THE BODYGUARD WHO TAMED THE TRILLIONAIRE CEO
Caden Booker, the arrogant heir to the Booker Legacy group has everything-wealth, power and everything that comes with it. Things take a turn when he survives a car bombing that was meant to kill him, sparking the need for a bodyguard, his bodyguard. Ruthless, secretive, and finally close enough to make Caden pay, Asher takes the job not to protect him, but to end him.
As time unravels everything he thought he knew, Asher must decide between following through with the revenge he has planned all his life or to risk it all for the man he has learned to love.
A tale of betrayal, power and abominable romance, born out of revenge and sealed in love.
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Chapter 2
Caden's Pov
I thought too much last night because why the heck does my heart hurt? I threw my eyes open and winced at the bright lights in the room.
"Jesus, fuck. Kill the lights." I groaned as I rubbed my eyes. "What happened to good morning?" A female voice replied to me in a sarcastic drawl. I peeled my hands off my face and snorted. "Good morning, Gatsby." Her lips curled into a weak smile. "You're finally awake."
My brows furrowed at her words. "Finally?" I could barely get any word out before she drew me in for a hug. "Um... Gatsby, what are you doing?" I panicked. I'm not a hugger and she knows that. "I thought we'd lost you." she whispered in a shaky voice as she tightened our embrace.
Lose me? What is she talking about? I pulled away from the hug and looked at her. Her dark curls were disheveled and there were bags under her eyes. She looked nothing like the disciplined Gabrielle who maintained a strict appearance. She was... exhausted. Okay. What the hell happened?
The unmistakable smell of antiseptic wafting in the air hit my nostrils and I froze. Wait a goddamn minute. I looked around the room and holy cow - pale white walls, blue curtains, a beeping heart rate machine. I wasn't in my 18 million dollar penthouse. I was in a freaking hospital. "What am I doing in a hospital?" I asked Gatsby with a shaky breath. "Oh no. Did I get drunk and do something stupid again?" A tired laugh escapes her and she shakes her head. "No." She looked at me and her eyes began to fill.
"There was an assassination."
I tried to sit up but a sharp pain shot up my arm and I winced. My gaze dropped on my right arm and I stared at the cast wrapped around it. I was hurt. Someone had hurt me. "An assassination?" I repeated her words slowly. "Yeah," Gatsby wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "Someone planted a bomb in your car. You were lucky to escape the explosion."
An assassination? That's not possible. No one has ever tried to kill me. Not even once. They couldn't try if they could. I'm a Booker and no one dares to assassinate a member of the Booker family. A news jingle made me lift my head and now, I'm staring at the TV across the room, laying on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over my face with paramedics fluttering around me like pigeons over bread while a group of firemen in the background battled to put out a flaming car.
My car.
My 12 million dollars. I jolted from my bed not feeling the pain in my arm. "That car was over 12 million dollars. Does this fucker know how long I waited to buy that shit?!" Gatsby stared at me as if I grew another head. "I'm sorry. What?" "You heard me," I ran my good hand through my hair. "My BMW 507. I never even got the chance to drive it. It was a new car. If he had planted a bomb in the SUV, I wouldn't be upset."
"Woah. Woah. Woah," Gatsby rose to her feet. "You were almost killed and the first thing you're worried about is a car?"
"Yes!" I yelled.
"I'm out of here." She picked up her purse. "Hold on. You're just gonna leave?" I called after her but she flipped me the bird. The moment the door clicked open, she paused and took a step back inside.
"I'm glad you understand how I feel." I said with an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, that car was ..." "... an eyesore to begin with. Flashy things attract criminals, Mr. Booker." A familiar American accent filled the space and I recognized the owner before he even crossed the threshold - Gabriel Foster. And he wasn't alone. He brought the whole gang with him. "To what do I owe this unscheduled meeting?" I replied with an edge to my voice. Mrs. Benito grabbed the chair Gatsby once occupied and took a seat. "We heard what happened two days ago and rushed over to see you." She said in her slimy, Italian accent. "You only come to see me when something bad happens. It seems you've been waiting a long time for this to happen." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Caden!" Jonathan barked. "You will not speak to her like that!" "Ah, I see. The calvary is here. Want me to give you a round of applause?" I said with sincere sarcasm.
"Caden, stop that." Gatsby shot me a glare. "They have something important to tell you."
"By all means, entertain me." I leaned back in bed and looked at the three musketeers. Garbriel Foster, Casa Benito, and Jonathan Whipply are one of the company's board members and the pain in my glorified behind. They always show up whenever I mess up, like that one time I got drunk and hooked up with a stranger back in college and it made it to national TV. These people showed up at my penthouse the very next day and gave me peptalks about being the future heir, taking responsibility, and blah fucking blah. It's not a shock they're here to say the same damn thing.
"Here you go." Gabriel passed me a brown folder.
"You want me to read this time. Cool."
I snatched the folder from his hand and tore it open. Gatsby was a darling and passed me my reading glasses. After reading a few lines, I told myself I'd had enough of this thing. "This is a load of crap." I tossed the paper aside. "Caden!" "You expect me to be watched 24/7? I'm not a child!" I yelled. "You act like one." Mrs. Benito mumbled and I glared at her. "You are the sole heir to the Booker Legacy Group. If anything happens to you, your family's legacy dies. We have to do everything in our power to keep you safe."
Gabriel explained or more like gave a word-vomit. "You want to keep me safe or keep me alive to be your puppet?" I hissed. "Don't be rude, Caden." Jonathan stared at me like he was disappointed. Well, I'm not surprised. He always looked at me that way.
"Hiring a bodyguard wasn't our decision to make!" Gabriel's voice cut through the chaos and everyone froze. "Grandpa is dead so the three of you all pull the strings now. If you're not the one who made the decision then who the hell did it?!" I asked, staring at their faces for an answer.
Gastby heaved a tired sigh before picking up the paper I tossed. "Your grandfather." My stomach churned. "What?" She passed the agreement plan to Gabriel who folded the paper like scripture. "This is a mandatory executive protection written by his grandfather, Caden. You must obey it."
So grandpapi is still giving orders from the grave. I'm impressed. I lift my chin defiantly and grin. "And if I refuse?" It was Gabriel's turn to grin. "If you refuse, Caden, we will freeze all your shares." He flashed me with a grin and I was tempted to wipe it off his red American face. Dumbass.
"You can't be serious. Freeze all my shares? I'm the biggest shareholder in the company. You can't do that to me!" I screamed . "Oh but we can." Gabriel grinned.
I turned to Gatsby, waiting for her to tell me this is a fucking dream and I need to wake up. But she just shook her head and looked the other way. Fuck. This is as real as my depression.
"We've already hired your bodyguard." Gabriel added, replacing his grin with his usual unreadable look. "He's an Ex-Navy SEAL, has top-notch recommendations, and is experienced with guarding high-profile personalities. He's a sought-after professional and the perfect fit for this job."
God, this is really happening. In all my 27 years, I'd never had a bodyguard. Now, I'm going to be babysat by one.
"Take a look." He passed a picture. I took the picture and stared at the man in it. He had longish black hair grazing his collar and gunmetal-gray eyes. Most veterans kept their hair cropped or short but this dude clearly wasn't one of them. I spotted a thin scar slashing through his left eyebrow and a hint of a tattoo peeking out from both sleeves of his shirt.
I've seen this man before but where?
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7.8
She woke up in a billionaire's arms in a penthouse with a view of the Seine. She was wearing a ring she didn't remember saying yes i do to
When Lana Cruz wakes up after a terrible accident, the only person there is Adrian Black, the powerful CEO who says she is his wife. His touch is familiar, and his voice is strong but all of my memories of him are gone.
They look like the perfect couple to everyone but this is the revenge Adrian has been waiting years for. Lana broke his heart once, and now he plans to make her fall in love with him again, only to break her heart when she is most vulnerable.
But Paris is a city full of life and danger. Rooftop parties under the sparkling Eiffel Tower, moonlit walks along the Seine, and sparkling galleries set the stage for love, lies, and secrets that could ruin both of them.
As they fall in love, the line between revenge and desire gets blurry. Lana and Adrian must choose between letting the past take over their lives or giving in to a love that is strong enough to heal even the worst wounds.
A storm of passion, betrayal, and redemption in the middle of modern Paris.
8.9
I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go.
The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside.
The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal.
I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate.
But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone.
"Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands."
The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.
7.9
For five years, April Gamble loved Julian Travis with everything she had, trusting him completely.
But on a stormy night, he casually tossed a liquidation agreement at her feet, single-handedly destroying her grandfather's company.
He coldly admitted he only dated her to steal Vance Group's internal financial data.
"You were convenient," Julian said, swirling his whiskey without a shred of guilt.
Before April could even process the brutal betrayal, a breaking news alert lit up her phone.
She watched in absolute horror as her grandfather jumped from the ledge of the Vance Tower on live television.
Julian looked at her writhing, screaming form with utter boredom and simply ordered his bodyguard to throw her out.
Blinded by grief and tears, April sped into the torrential rain, only to be completely crushed by a hydroplaning transport truck at an intersection.
As the shattered glass tore into her skin and the metal crushed her ribs, she died with a hatred so pure it made her teeth ache.
Why did five years of devotion mean absolutely nothing to him? Why did her family have to die just to feed his ruthless greed?
When she opened her eyes again, the harsh hospital lights blinded her, but the familiar burn scar on her arm was gone.
She wasn't the betrayed financial analyst April Gamble anymore.
She had woken up in the body of Altagracia Blanchard, the most notorious, obscenely wealthy heiress in New York.
Julian had taken everything from her, but now, armed with a billionaire's empire, she was going to bury him.
7.5
I lay paralyzed in a luxury Swiss clinic, my body a heavy sack of meat I no longer controlled. The heart monitor’s rhythmic beep was the only thing louder than the silence, a mocking countdown to my inevitable end.
My fiancé, Jordan, walked in looking impeccable in the custom suit I had bought him for his birthday. He wasn't alone; my best friend, Chloe, followed him into the room, wearing the vintage Givenchy dress I had saved for our anniversary gala.
Jordan didn't look like a grieving man; he looked bored as he held up a blue folder confirming that my family's offshore trust had finally cleared. Chloe giggled, leaning over me to ask if I finally realized it was the engagement wine she had spiked seven days ago. Jordan brushed a cold hand over my forehead, calling me a "perfect little asset" before pulling Chloe into a hungry kiss right over my dying body. To ensure there was no turning back, he pulled out a silver lighter and set my living will on fire, watching the only document that could have saved me turn to ash.
I tried to scream, to curse them both to hell for stealing my life and my legacy, but all that came out was a wet, rattling wheeze. My own father, I would later learn, had known about the takeover and chose the profit over his own daughter's life.
As the darkness swallowed me whole, I made a silent, desperate promise: if there was anything after this, I would come back and destroy every single one of them.
I gasped, my body jerking upright as air rushed into my lungs like liquid fire.
I wasn't in Switzerland, and there was no poison in my veins. I was back in my Manhattan bedroom, staring at a phone that read June 12—the morning of the wedding, the day I was supposed to die, and the day I decided to burn their world to the ground.
9.4
Dorene survived a terrifying night with a bleeding, dangerous intruder in her hotel penthouse, only to receive a far more devastating blow the next morning.
A black and gold envelope arrived. It was an engagement invitation. Her boyfriend of seven years, Kadyn, was marrying her sweet, innocent best friend, Dolly.
Refusing to hide, Dorene crashed the gala in a blood-red gown. But Dolly was ready. Grabbing Dorene's wrists, Dolly purposely threw herself backward into a tower of champagne glasses, shrieking about her stomach and her unborn baby.
"If anything happens to Dolly or my child, I swear to God, I will destroy you!"
Kadyn roared, holding the weeping Dolly in the broken glass. He didn't ask a single question. He branded Dorene a jealous monster. To completely break her dignity, he publicly handed her over to the city's most notorious, sleazy playboy just to appease Dolly's fake tears.
"Give him a shot," Kadyn told her coldly.
Seven years of love were ground into the marble floor. She was framed, publicly humiliated, and discarded like trash by the two people she trusted most.
Dorene didn't shed a single tear. She gave them a smile of pure, freezing mockery and walked out of the gilded cage into the freezing Manhattan night. She didn't know that as she left, the lethal, blood-stained man from her penthouse was watching from the shadows, ready to help her burn their world to the ground.
8.5
After surviving twenty-one years in a brutal orphanage, I finally returned to my billionaire biological family with the silver pocket watch that proved my identity.
But my relatives didn't care about me; they only loved Corie, the fake daughter who had stolen my life after our mothers switched us during a hospital fire.
On my very first day home, the family faced total ruin over a thirty billion dollar debt.
The creditors demanded a Dunlap daughter marry their comatose, vegetative heir to settle the score.
Without a second thought, my grandmother and uncle pointed their fingers at me.
They claimed Corie was too delicate and precious to spend her life nursing a corpse with a heartbeat.
"You're used to hardship and deprivation," my grandmother sneered, demanding I fulfill my so-called family obligation to save them all.
I looked at these strangers who had ignored my existence for two decades, expecting me to sacrifice my future just so a thief could keep enjoying my stolen wealth.
They thought they were tossing an unwanted orphan into a living hell.
But when I saw the medical file of the comatose heir, a cold thrill ran through my veins.
It was Andres Gillespie.
The man who had taken my innocence during a mountain storm four years ago, and the secret father of my hidden twins.
I calmly set down my coffee cup and smiled at my arrogant family.
"I'll do it. I'll marry him."