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 4
Caden's Pov
Irritation stabbed at me like a sharp knife.
Why was this asshole my bodyguard? He's so rude. Stupid American. He doesn't even deserve his looks. Not his stupid sculpted muscles or his curly black hair or his gunmetal-gray eyes. He's very... ugly on the inside.
Why did grandpa have to hire him?
I sigh for the umpteenth time that evening and stare at my empty glass.
"Are you sure he's not a robot?"
Gatsby gave me a light nudge in the shoulder.
I shrugged. "How do I know? Go ask him yourself."
Gatsby stared at Asher who was busy scanning the living room of my, fireworks emoji, new home.
She turned to me and shook her head. "Hard pass. He looks like he'll kill me."
When we arrived at the penthouse an hour ago, I'd called Gatsby over but Asher gave me a hard NO, saying stuff about security measures and knowing your enemy bullcrap. I didn't listen to him. I called her right over and here we are.
Gatsby tried to lighten the mood but it didn't work out.
"So..." she began. "Why don't we get to know each other?"
"There's no need for that. I'm sure Gabriel has told you all about me." He said in a brisk tone.
Now that I think about it. He was the exact opposite of what Gabriel described. Experienced? Well, yeah. Those muscles could pack a punch but top-notch recommendations? This bloke lacks manners and is basically an animal. Sought-after professional my ass.
Gatsby lounged around for an extra hour before she left. I'd begged her to take me with her but she'd scurried off. Traitor.
A yawn escaped me and I covered my mouth with my good hand. I must be exhausted.
"Going to bed early?" Asher asked like the noob he was.
"What's that to you?" I rolled my eyes and turned towards the stairs.
I expected a retort but didn't get one. Nice, that'll teach him to shut up.
I crashed on the floor the second I entered my room, too tired to even move. Maybe, I'll just sleep on the floor.
The cold, tile floor was replaced with a familiar warmth I never thought I'd feel ever again.
Leather and sandalwood filled my nostrils as I floated, I believe, towards my bed. I didn't need to open my eyes to know that it's HIM - the man from 5 years ago.
I knew this was obviously a dream. I always see him in my dreams, watching me, touching my hair and my hand, and sometimes, kissing me. I never asked him his name after we hooked up but my therapist told me to ask him whenever I saw him in my dreams and so I did.
"What is... your name?" My words came out slurred. When he didn't reply, I tried to open my eyes but he placed his hand over them.
"Go to sleep, amore." He said in his lovely deep voice.
That's right. He also called me "amore" 5 years ago and told me he loved me. It's actually him.
"Don't go, Grey." I mumbled and snuggled into his arms. I never got to know his name so I called him grey because of his eyes.
I remember his touch, his kisses, the way he pounded into me like a madman, but I didn't remember his name.
I never do.
The following day, I woke up to emptiness.
The side next to me was cold, reminding me everything I felt last night would always be a dream. Fate, you fucking bitch.
I kicked off the bedcovers when I suddenly realized something. How the hell did I end up in my bed? I remember passing out on the floor.
I'd barely gotten my answer when the door suddenly opened and the grumpy American walked in.
"Don't you know how to knock or did your parents not teach you any manners?" I chucked a pillow at him, one he was quick to catch.
"My parents are dead," he said dryly. "Come downstairs for breakfast."
That stopped me. "You cooked?"
"No. I'm not your chef. Get your ass out of that bed and come make your own breakfast. Your physiotherapist will be soon." He scoffed and turned to the door, walking the way he came.
I clenched my knuckles so hard my fingernails cut into my palm.
I'm going to murder this asshole.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I went downstairs to the kitchen, only to be greeted by the smell of bacon and eggs.
He made breakfast after all.
"Morning, Caden." Gatsby beamed at me.
Of course, she made breakfast. The asshole lounged at the head of the dinner table with a cigar in his hand and a wine in the other.
"Cigar and alcoholic wine in the morning? I see you're hungry for death." I glared at him as I took my seat.
He blew smoke in my direction and I coughed.
"Please, smoke somewhere else. Caden hates the smell of smoke." Gatsby said in a semi-polite tone.
Asher doesn't move from his spot and only keeps smoking. He looked at me, mischief dancing into his stupidly attractive eyes. Does he know something I don't?
Suddenly, memories of the past flashed through my head - The grey-eyed man smoking a cigar and passing it to me while we drank more wine, smoked more weed and fucked.
Jesus. I hope my cheeks aren't red.
I cleared my throat. "Don't worry, Gatsby. I'll just have breakfast in my room."
"I'll let you know when the physiotherapist comes." She said, patting me lightly on the shoulder.
Thank God she read the air. There was clearly no point addressing the mountain-size elephant in the room.
I was used to eating breakfast alone so this shouldn't be too hard. But when I tried to eat, I couldn't.
Why did Asher stare at me like that? Does he actually know something about me that I don't? Or... oh no. Did he hear me call Grey in my sleep? God, that must've been so embarrassing. Of course, he'd heard me otherwise he wouldn't have been staring at me like that.
I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and started eating breakfast.
By the time I was done, I took the tray and reached for the door.
My stomach flipped when I saw who was standing on the threshold.
"The doctor's here." He said.
Those three words were my very undoing.
I stared at his eyes, grey, almost dark like two little storms waiting to break loose.
Where the hell have I seen those eyes and why can't I remember?
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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."