Hooked On My Boss: My Bodyguard's Forbidden Touch

VALENTINA

People like to call me a bitch behind closed doors.

They assume that if they lower their voices over crystal glasses at charity galas, their whispers won't reach me.

They're wrong.

I hear everything. I simply don't care.

Kindness in the corporate world is a luxury reserved for heirs who never had to claw their way to the top.

My uncles believe sharing my blood entitles them to a seat at my table. My board thinks I'm too young to run the empire my grandfather left me.

And then there's Charles.

Stupid, pathetic Charles.

The man I agreed to marry to protect my company's stock value and thwart my uncles' attempt at a board takeover.

The same man who couldn't go twenty-four hours without becoming a liability.

"Ah... yes, Daddy! Right there!"

The woman's moans echoed through the penthouse hallway.

The idiot hadn't even latched the door.

"Whose pussy is this?"

A sharp slap cracked through the doorway, followed by the rhythmic creak of the mattress.

"Tell me!"

"It's yours, Daddy!" the woman squealed.

I stopped at the threshold, took a slow breath, and adjusted my blazer cuffs.

Then I kicked the door open with the pointed toe of my red-soled heel.

The woman shrieked and scrambled backward, dragging the silk sheets over herself.

Charles, however, didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

He stood at the edge of the mattress, his miserable excuse for an erection still standing as he glared at me.

"Valentina," he sighed with a bitter laugh. "Do you enjoy being a buzzkill? Can't a guy have a little recreation without you storming in?"

"Recreation?" I tilted my head, letting my gaze sweep around the room. "If you're going to embarrass me with an affair, Charles, at least have enough self-respect to choose a five-star hotel and someone whose salary isn't paid by my company."

My eyes landed on Chloe, my secretary, cowering beneath the duvet.

Of all the women in the city, he'd chosen my secretary.

"Enjoy your stay here, Chloe," I said coldly. "Because you just lost your job. Pack your desk. Actually, don't bother. I'll have security dump your belongings in the alley behind the building."

Chloe yanked the duvet down, her eyes widening with terror.

"Ms. Rhodes, please! I-I was forced into this, I swear. I didn't mean to-"

"Valentina, come on. Don't be like that." Charles stepped between us. "She was just-"

"Shut the fuck up, Charles."

My voice cracked through the room like a whip.

He took a half-step back, the smugness on his face faltering.

I turned to Chloe, who was already crying.

"You have thirty seconds to get your cheap ass out of my sight before I make sure you never work in this state again."

She scrambled off the bed and gathered her clothes from the floor.

"Ms. Rhodes..." she whimpered, clutching them against her chest.

"Save the performance for someone who cares. Out. Now."

She sniffled before practically sprinting past me.

I waited until her footsteps faded before turning back to Charles.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, glaring at me as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

I folded my arms. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're so fucking mean, Valentina." He lit a cigarette. "It's why no one loves you. It's why you'll always be completely alone."

A dry scoff escaped me.

"Oh, please. I gave you one rule. Do not embarrass me. Yet here you are, fucking my secretary of all people."

I held up my phone, the screen still glowing with the tip-off email from a local tabloid.

"Do you have any idea what would have happened if that reporter had published these photos first? Do you even possess the basic intelligence to understand how a scandal like this could affect my company's stock value?"

Charles took a long drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke between us.

"I don't care," he muttered, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Of course you don't. Why would you care about an empire you didn't build?"

I turned toward the door, then glanced back at him.

"Now put some pants on. You look like a joke."

I walked out without waiting for a response.

How had I ended up in this position?

Marrying Charles had been a calculated move to protect my company from my uncles. But every day I spent tolerating him felt like another piece of my grandfather's empire slipping through my fingers.

And I'd be damned if I let them take it from me.

My vision blurred, and my steps faltered.

Before I could reach for the wall, a pair of strong hands caught me.

His familiar scent surrounded me.

I looked up to see Roman Calloway. My bodyguard.

The one man who could make me forget, even briefly, how much I hated my life.

His honey-colored eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I felt seen.

But Charles's words came rushing back.

It's why no one loves you. It's why you'll always be completely alone.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe I was completely alone.

Yet standing in Roman Calloway's arms, I realized there was one thing I'd wanted for far too long.

"Are you okay, ma'am?"

His voice pulled me back to the present.

"No," I whispered.

One of his brows lifted, but he didn't release me.

"Is there anything you want, Ms. Rhodes?"

My gaze dropped to his lips before returning to his eyes.

"I want..." I hesitated, then forced the words out.

"I want you to fuck me."

VALENTINA

Roman's brow lifted, and his grip on my waist tightened slightly. He tilted his head, studying me as though waiting for an explanation.

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

For one horrifying second, neither of us spoke.

Then I remembered who I was.

Valentina Rhodes.

CEO. Billionaire. The woman who could silence an entire boardroom with a single look.

I didn't get flustered. I didn't make reckless demands, and I certainly didn't proposition my bodyguard in a hallway.

I slapped his hands away and took two steps backward.

"I said I want you to fuck Charles over," I lied smoothly, forcing my expression back into its usual composure. "Go into that room, take his phone, wipe any evidence of that woman, and make sure he understands what happens when he embarrasses me."

I crossed my arms, glaring at him as though he were the one who had crossed a line.

"You're paid to keep me alive and the press away, Roman. Not to hold me in hotel hallways while my useless fiancé smokes in a room that smells like cheap perfume."

I lifted my chin.

"Do your job."

Roman stared at me.

I narrowed my eyes. "Unless your hearing has suddenly become selective?"

His honey-colored eyes lingered on mine, far too knowing for my comfort.

He knew I was lying.

I knew he knew.

But he was far too professional and far too smart to call his boss a liar to her face.

"My hearing is fine, Ms. Rhodes," he replied, his voice low and unhurried.

His gaze flicked briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

"I'll handle Mr. Thorne."

He made no move to leave.

Neither did I.

The silence stretched between us, thick with everything we refused to acknowledge.

"Anything else, Ms. Rhodes?"

My stomach tightened. "No."

His gaze dipped to my mouth again.

"Are you sure?"

My pulse jumped. "Yes."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Good." He finally stepped back. "Then I'll take care of your fiancé."

"Get to it," I muttered, turning away before he could notice how thoroughly he'd unsettled me.

By the time I reached the hotel's entrance, rain had begun to fall.

Of course it had.

As if the day hadn't been miserable enough.

I paused beneath the awning, glanced at the dark sky, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

Before I could step into the rain, a black umbrella opened above me.

I turned.

Roman stood beside me, holding it over my head.

How did he always manage to move without making a sound?

The man practically appeared out of thin air.

"Have you handled Charles?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

His voice was perfectly even, as though our exchange in the hallway had never happened.

"I've assigned people to deal with it. I'll take you home now."

Right.

Home.

Where I could disappear for the rest of the night and pretend none of this humiliation had happened.

Roman led me through the rain, keeping the umbrella angled over us until we reached the car. He opened the passenger door, and I slipped inside.

A moment later, he settled behind the wheel and started the engine.

I leaned against the headrest, rolling my neck to ease the tension that had settled there.

"Call Evelyn. I need her tonight."

"All right, ma'am."

Roman kept his eyes on the road, his voice giving nothing away.

I caught his reflection in the rearview mirror and stared a second too long.

As if he'd sensed my attention, his eyes flicked upward and met mine.

I looked away immediately, silently cursing myself.

For the rest of the drive, I kept my gaze fixed on the window. Wet streets blurred past in streaks of reflected light, giving me something to focus on besides the man behind the wheel.

Anything was better than thinking about what I'd almost said to him.

My nightly routine was non-negotiable.

Every evening, I retreated to the private sauna on the lower level of my estate, where an hour of massage helped ease the tension the day had left in my shoulders.

Tonight was no different.

I lay facedown on the padded table in the cedar-scented room, a white towel draped over my hips. The warmth enveloped me, gradually easing the knots in my muscles as I waited for Evelyn to arrive.

My face rested against my folded arms, my eyelids growing heavy.

The door creaked behind me.

I barely registered the sound. Evelyn was always punctual.

Then I felt a pair of hands settle on my shoulders.

I stiffened.

These weren't Evelyn's familiar, delicate hands. They were larger, their palms warm against my skin.

My eyes snapped open.

I lifted my head, the haze of sleep disappearing instantly.

Roman stood at the head of the table.

His dark jacket was gone, and his shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing his forearms. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest.

For a moment, I forgot what I was about to say.

Then I remembered that he had absolutely no business being here.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" I demanded, forcing my voice into its usual icy tone.

"Evelyn couldn't make it tonight," Roman replied calmly.

His hands remained on my shoulders, his thumbs moving in slow circles over the tension gathered there.

"An emergency came up."

"And you thought that gave you the right to come down here and put your hands on me?"

My jaw tightened as an unwelcome flutter stirred in my chest.

"Remove your hands before I have you replaced by morning."

I planted my palms against the table, intending to push myself upright and look him directly in the eye.

Then cool air brushed against my hip.

The towel.

It was barely secured around me. One wrong movement, and it would end up on the floor.

I froze.

Roman's gaze flicked toward the shifting fabric before returning to my face.

His hands remained on my shoulders.

"Lie still, Ms. Rhodes," he murmured, utterly unfazed. "Unless you want that towel on the floor."

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

"Not at all." His thumb traced the nape of my neck. "I'm only offering to give you a massage."

A disbelieving laugh escaped me.

I kept my body rigid, unwilling to risk the towel slipping any further.

"And what makes you think I'd let you touch me like this?"

"Because I can give you what you desperately want right now."

His confidence sent my heart slamming against my ribs.

I forced my expression into a glare. "And what's that?"

Roman didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he crouched until his face was level with mine.

His honey-colored eyes held mine, and the warmth radiating from his chest made the narrow space between us feel even smaller.

My breath caught.

"Should I say it in words," he whispered, his voice sending a shiver across my skin, "or would you rather I show you instead, Valentina?"

VALENTINA

For the first time in my life, I had absolutely no idea what to say.

Roman was still crouched in front of me, his honey-colored eyes holding mine with an infuriating calmness that made me want to slap him and kiss him in equal measure.

Neither option was acceptable.

Especially the second one.

I swallowed hard.

"I'm your employer."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I know."

"You're my bodyguard."

"I know that too."

"And I'm engaged."

That finally wiped the amusement from his face.

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before returning to my eyes.

"I know, Valentina."

Hearing my first name roll off his tongue felt infinitely more intimate than it had any right to.

With him this close, I couldn't help noticing just how good-looking he was. I'd always known Roman was attractive, but staring at him from this distance was different.

Far too different.

There was something about the way his eyes held mine, the quiet confidence in his expression, the sheer proximity of him that made looking away feel almost impossible.

Even though I knew damn well I should.

I was supposed to walk away.

That was the obvious thing to do.

Stand up. Pull the towel into place. Walk out of the sauna. Call Evelyn. Fire Roman in the morning.

Simple.

Very simple.

Except my body refused to cooperate.

Roman's eyes remained locked on mine, patiently waiting for an answer.

I lifted my chin, forcing every ounce of ice into my voice.

"I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing, Roman, but you're dangerously close to forgetting who you're talking to."

He studied my face for a long moment.

Then a slow, infuriating smile tugged at his lips.

"You know," he murmured, leaning forward just enough for the warmth of his body to brush against my skin, "if you truly hated this, you would have ordered me to leave five minutes ago."

His eyes held mine.

"But you haven't said the word, Valentina."

My pulse stumbled.

Fuck.

I opened my mouth to respond, but he smoothly cut me off.

"Let's make this simple for both of us."

He rose to his full height, his broad frame suddenly looming over me.

"Lie still and let me give you the massage."

"Oh." I scoffed, shifting so I could look up at him. "You think you're calling the shots now?"

Before I could move, his broad hand settled firmly on my shoulder, keeping me in place.

"I think you're exhausted."

"I'm always exhausted," I shot back. "It's a side effect of dealing with useless, entitled idiots all day."

"Right."

His answer was so smooth it only irritated me further.

From the corner of my eye, I caught the glint of the amber bottle as he poured massage oil into his palms. He rubbed his hands together, releasing the warm scent of cedar into the air.

"I can't imagine what it takes to manage people like that every day," he murmured.

His thumbs pressed into the base of my neck, working slowly into the tension there before dragging down in long, deliberate strokes.

A sharp shudder traveled down my spine.

Against my better judgment, the tension in my shoulders began to melt beneath his hands.

"Don't talk like you know a single thing about me," I snapped, desperately trying to hide how quickly my body was relaxing beneath his touch.

"I know you, Valentina," he said quietly.

His thumbs found another tight knot near my spine.

"What the fuck do you think you know about me, Roman?" I demanded, throwing up every wall I had left.

Roman leaned closer.

His voice dropped into a low, dangerous murmur beside my ear.

"I know you want me."

A sharp gasp caught in my throat.

Heat rushed to my face as I lifted my head and glared at him.

"You must be completely out of your goddamn mind to think that."

Roman laughed softly.

"You shouldn't lie while getting a massage, Ms. Rhodes. The muscles in your neck just locked up completely. You give yourself away every single time."

I bit the inside of my lip, my body tensing with irritation and something far more dangerous.

For a fleeting second, I wanted to shove him away.

Then I remembered I was wearing nothing but the towel wrapped loosely around me, and the last thing I needed was to risk losing it.

So I forced myself to lie still.

I couldn't help marveling at how skilled his hands were, firm enough to work out every knot yet gentle enough not to hurt.

"Where did you learn to do this?" I asked, my voice muffled against my folded arms.

"I had some sports training years ago," he replied smoothly.

The faint sound of oil being poured filled the quiet sauna.

"Are you enjoying the service, ma'am?"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes against the vinyl padding.

"Don't flatter yourself, Roman."

Even with my face buried in my arms, I could practically feel the smug curve of his lips.

His hands returned to my shoulders and upper arms, slick with warm oil, kneading away the lingering tension of the day.

I exhaled softly and closed my eyes, allowing myself to surrender to the rare sensation of being cared for.

I hated how good it felt.

I hated that my bodyguard was the only person in this city who could make me feel safe enough to let my guard down.

Five more minutes.

Five minutes, then I'd tell him to leave, take a shower, put on my robe, and go upstairs to bed.

That was the plan.

Then his hands left my back.

I opened my eyes, tilting my head just in time to see him move toward the end of the table.

Without warning, his warm, broad hands closed gently around my ankle, his thumbs pressing into the arch of my foot.

I gasped, an involuntary laugh slipping through my lips.

"Hey! I'm ticklish there!"

"My apologies," he murmured, amusement evident in his voice. "I'll be gentle."

He ran a finger along the delicate arch of my foot, making me squirm against the vinyl. His broad hands lifted my foot, meticulously working over each of my toes before easing their way back toward my ankles.

My body began to relax again.

I tried to ignore the terrifying fact that I was enjoying this far more than I should.

Roman took his time.

When he finally finished with my feet, his hands moved to my calves, his touch steady and practiced. The warmth of the room seemed to intensify with every passing second, until I could barely tell whether the heat came from the steam or from him.

My nipples were already hard, pressing painfully against the padded table every time I drew a breath.

His calloused palms worked over the sensitive skin behind my knees, his fingers sliding higher until they brushed the fraying edge of my towel.

I sucked in a breath, suddenly hyper-aware of how close his hands were to my bare backside. Every stroke along my thighs left a burning trail of heat in its wake.

This ends now, I decided, clinging to the last shred of my sanity.

He had finished my shoulders, my back, and my legs.

I lay rigid, waiting for him to step back, wipe his hands, and tell me he was done.

But he didn't.

Instead, I felt cool air brush against my lower back as his fingers slowly parted the towel, leaving me completely naked.

"What the hell?!" I snapped, my hand shooting out to grab the towel, but Roman was faster.

With one smooth flick of his wrist, he tossed the damp cotton onto the cedar floorboards.

Heat rushed across my skin as the warm steam enveloped my bare back. I twisted around to glare up at him.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Relax," Roman said calmly. "You'd let a professional masseuse handle you without a towel, wouldn't you? What's the difference?"

"There's a hell of a difference, Roman, and you know it!" I gritted out, my jaw tightening. "You know what? We're done here. Get out."

He didn't move.

He simply stood at the foot of the table, his eyes holding mine with an infuriating calmness.

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you deaf? I said get the fuck out of my house."

"No."

My heart gave a sudden, violent jolt.

"What the fuck do you mean, no?"

"I'm not done with you, Valentina," he murmured.

He stepped toward the side of the table and planted both palms against the vinyl, leaning down until his broad, bare chest blocked out the light.

"Turn over."