The Ceo's Secret Guard

Steph Munroe's POV:

There's something about rain-slicked streets that definitely makes even the biggest cities feel lonely and New York was no exception.As the cab's wipers fought hard against the downpour, smearing neon lights across the window like messy brushstrokes, my fingers stayed curled around the strap of my bag, my knuckles white and my heart doing that annoying thudding it does whenever I know I'm walking into something I can't walk out of easily.

The driver slowed to a stop in front of the Monarch Capital Group's towering glass building. One couldn't deny that even at night, it pulsed with life, a 54-story monument to ambition, money, and yes! people like Damian Pierce. People who didn't just sit at the top of the food chain... they basically owned the damn chain!

While I had never met him in person, I knew him through the press like everyone else did-The almighty thirty-two-year- old, self-made billionaire who was as razor-sharp in business as he was untouchable in the media. He was a man you didn't cross unless you had a death wish.

And yet here I was.

The revolving doors swallowed me into a lobby so polished it made me instantly aware of the rain on my coat and the wetness in my hair. I felt small just by standing in this building.Two receptionists sat behind a curved desk, both dressed in sleek black suits that said we notice everything and forget nothing.

One looked up as though noticing I had been staring and reading them like a book. "Ms. Munroe?"

"That's me." My voice didn't waver, thank God.

"You're expected." She slid a sleek, black visitor badge toward me. "Forty-ninth floor. Mr. Pierce will see you now."

The elevator ride was a silent countdown. I didn't check my phone nor did I check my makeup. Whatever this meeting was going to be, I could tell it was already set in motion. I just had to survive it.

When the doors finally opened, I was greeted by a wall of glass that revealed the city skyline in all of its stormy glory. His office was at the end of the hall, door ajar, light spilling out.

I stepped inside, heart in my pocket.

He matched the article's description perfectly and at the same time he was nothing like them at all. Standing by the window,phone in hand, in a charcoal suit fitting him like it had been stitched directly on his body was Damian Pierce. But it wasn't his height or the sharp cut of his jaw that hit me first. It was his stillness. His stillness had something to it that made you wonder if he was about to tell you a secret or end your career.

He ended his call, slipping the phone into his pocket. "Steph Munroe." His voice was low, smooth, but it definitely wasn't the kind that made you want to relax.

"Yes." I didn't sit, well until he told me to.

He studied me for a bit longer than comfortable, then gestured to the leather chair across from his desk. "Please."

I sat, my bag on my lap.

"I read your file," he said, walking around the desk. "Military background. Honorably discharged. Freelance security work. Two years working for a private investigative firm. Impressive."

I kept my expression neutral trying my best to hide my nervousness and mostly how intimidated I felt just by his presence . "I didn't know I was applying for a job."

"You're not Ms Munroe." He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "You're being offered one."

I could feel the air between us shift.

"I'm listening," I said.

His gaze was sharp. "I have enemies, Ms. Munroe. That's the nature of my business. But you see,lately, they've been... bolder. I've had security for years, but this is different. I need someone who can be close without being obvious. Someone who can protect me without drawing attention."

It clicked. "You want a bodyguard."

"I want a shadow," he corrected with a smirk. "You'll be brought on under the guise of a special assistant. You'll handle certain tasks, Travel with me. Be where I am. And if anyone tries anything..." He didn't finish the sentence but he didn't need to.We both understood

I know I should have said no, better still, I should have gotten up that minute and walked right out before my little life got tangled in whatever web Damian Pierce spun around himself.

But then he said, "The pay is triple your current rate. Discretion is non-negotiable. And if you accept, you start tomorrow."

My pulse kicked so hard against my ribs.

"How do you know you can trust me?" I asked.

He leaned forward, eyes locking on mine. "Because I already know your secrets, so being kind to yourself would mean helping me trust you...right Ms.Munroe?"

The words landed like a weight in my chest.

As I sat there scanning my brain for a response, the phone in his office rang. He picked it up, listened for a few seconds, then hung up again. "Have you decided yet, Ms. Munroe?"

My mouth was dry but I went ahead to say "I'll take it." Funny how I answered like I had any choice

His expression didn't change, but something in the air did, it felt like a deal had been struck in a room where nothing was ever undone.

"Good," he said, standing. "My driver will pick you up at 7 a.m and wear black. Bring nothing you can't afford to lose."

I rose to my feet, my mind already spinning with questions I knew would never get answers.

As I reached the door, he called after me. "And one more thing."

I turned.

"From the moment you step out of this building tonight," he said, "you're already on the job."

As the elevator doors closed in front of me, sealing me in with my reflection. I couldn't help but wonder for the first time in a really long time, if I was stepping into the new life I wanted or actually walking straight into a trap.

The rain had already eased off by the time I was out of the building of Monarch Capital Group, but the city still smelled of wet asphalt and diesel. I was halfway down the steps of MCG when a black SUV slid to the curb. It had a government-grade tint and the type of purr under the hood you don't get from anything sold to the public. Damn!!! Everything about this place was just class, power and luxury

The back door opened.

"Ms. Munroe," the driver called out to me. He was tall with a military build, his eyes scanning the street even while addressing me. "Mr. Pierce asked me to see you home."

I hesitated. "Home? How do you know where I live?"

"Hop in, ma'am."

Wow... just wow.

I climbed in. The leather smelled faintly of something familiar and somehow darker-his cologne. I didn't even need to ask whose car it was. Everything in it screamed Damian Pierce

The driver pulled away. City lights streaked past us, but a movement in the reflection caught my eye,a sedan, two cars back, keeping pace. My instincts prickled.

"Friend of yours?" I asked casually like I wasn't worried that my past had probably dug its way up, finding me almost immediately before I could even find my foot in this well crafted new life of mine

The driver's eyes flicked to the rearview. "Miss Munroe...Do not turn around." He ordered

I didn't, actually I'm not even sure I was going too. I just sat back and watched his gaze shift between the road and the mirror.

"Lose them," I said.

The SUV surged forward without hesitation , weaving through traffic with controlled aggression. Three turns later, the sedan was gone.

When we stopped in front of my building, he didn't immediately unlock the doors. He looked around first then went ahead to list"Be ready tomorrow, 7 a.m... and Ms. Munroe..." His eyes met mine in the mirror. "From now on, be at alert, lets always try to assume you're being watched."

As the door lock clicked open. I took a deep breathe as I stepped out, scanning the shadows before heading inside.

I didn't sleep well at all, I tried but I just couldn't, my brain kept running laps and it was not just because of the job, but because of that sedan, I couldn't stop wondering if they were after me or if they were just after the car with the hopes that Damian was in it, and then I also couldn't stop thinking of the way Damian had looked at me, it was like he already knew exactly where I had been and what I had done. I couldn't stop thinking about what he meant when he said that he knew my secrets.

At 6:59 a.m., the SUV was waiting again. I wore black slacks, a fitted turtleneck, and boots practical but passable for an assistant, right?

When I slid in, Damian was already there.

"You're definitely punctual," he said, not looking up from his phone. This man makes me feel like a voice from a radio than a human being physically present

"And you're in my car," I shot back.

A smirk, just barely. "It's still my car."

We drove in silence until the SUV stopped outside a luxury hotel uptown. Inside, the lobby was a cathedral of marble and glass. It was a place where you felt time slow and where people spoke in hushed tones

I could assure you it was possible to be murdered and buried here

Remind me why I took this job again...

"Stay close," he murmured as we entered a private elevator.

"Am I expecting trouble?" I asked, like I didn't already know what I had signed up for, like I didn't know moving forward trouble, chaos, fear and bravery were my new companions

"Always," he said.

The doors opened into a penthouse suite with floor-to-ceiling windows and a man already waiting. He looked older, heavyset, with eyes that missed nothing. He smiled at Damian, but it didn't touch his face in the slightest.

"Pierce," he said. "You didn't say you were bringing company."

"She's not company," Damian replied. "She's insurance."

The man's gaze slid to me. "Pretty insurance."

I felt a heavy rush of irritation but I didn't flinch. "And armed."

That statement earned me a brow raise.

They talked business, You know,mergers, asset transfers, offshore holdings. I listened while storing details and also observing this old man, something in the man's tone was just too smooth, it sounded way too rehearsed.

Then it happened,a faint vibration against my leg. My phone. It was a call from...an unknown number?

I know I shouldn't have answered.

"Steph Munroe," a voice whispered, low and metallic. "Walk away from him before it's too late."

The line went dead immediately.

My heart spiked, but I tried to keep my face blank as I didn't want my fear mirroring in my face

When the meeting ended, Damian walked me back to the elevator. And as the doors closed, he spoke without looking at me...this man

"So who was on the phone?"

I froze. "How...did..."

"I told you, Ms. Munroe. I know your secrets. And now, someone else does too and that's a big problem."

The elevator chimed, it's doors sliding open to the lobby. That's when I saw it, a single white envelope lying directly in our path. My name was written on it in bold black ink.

"TO STEPH MUNROE".

I couldn't help but ask myself what exactly I had gotten myself into

Damian bent and then picked it up, and handed it right back to me.

"Go ahead," he said softly. "Open it."

Whatever I saw inside creeped me out...so much for trying to start all over again right?!!!

Inside the envelope was a single Polaroid.

It was me from last night,stepping out of the SUV.

And in the corner, barely visible was the reflection of a man in the glass door.

Watching me

The glass-walled conference room on the forty-second floor of Monarch Capital Group was a cathedral of power, all gleaming steel, panoramic views of Manhattan, and a table long enough to host a small war.

Damian Pierce sat at the head of it, a human portrait of effortless control. His tailored charcoal suit caught the light in sharp angles, his cufflinks glinting like quiet threats. Around him, board members shifted in leather chairs, speaking numbers and strategies in tones that didn't dare to rise above polite urgency.

it was like they all feared him.

But I was only there to take notes. At least, that was the role I played.

From my seat near the far corner, I let my pen move while my mind stayed two steps ahead, cataloguing who leaned forward when profits were discussed, who avoided eye contact when Damian's gaze swept the table. Corporate politics was a chessboard, and right now? I was busy watching for the pawns who didn't know they were already in check.

"Steph," Damian's voice cut through the low murmur smooth.

Every head turned towards me.

Damn,I hate the spotlight!

"Yes, Mr. Pierce?"

His eyes, storm-grey and unblinking, pinned me where I sat. "Rerun the projections from last quarter. The ones you gave me yesterday."

"Of course Mr Pierce." I tapped on my tablet, projecting the numbers onto the glass wall.

He watched me a fraction longer than necessary. To the board, it looked like mere scrutiny but I knew better. We knew better, we knew what the look meant, It was his own way of confirming I was still here, in place, still guarding the man who was trying way too hard to make himself believe he didn't need a guard.

The meeting dragged for another forty minutes before Damian finally dismissed everyone with a clipped, "We're done here." Chairs scraped back as murmured goodbyes filled the air, and in less than a minute, it was just the two of us in the echoing space.

"Something's off," he said, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets.

I closed my tablet. "When you say off...what do you mean exactly?Define off."

Somehow I found myself, so unstable whenever he was around me like this

He turned slightly toward me. "Two contracts pulled out last week. Both had ironclad agreements. And someone's been digging into our private acquisitions,ones that aren't public knowledge."

That flicker in my gut appeared the one I had learned to trust in the field. For me danger wasn't always a shout, it wasn't always loud,sometimes it was the whisper in the corner of the room.

"You have any idea who?" I asked.

"Plenty," he said dryly. "But I don't deal in guesses."

I stepped closer, the low hum of the city seeping in from beyond the glass. "Then we find out."

He gave me that half-smile that wasn't really a smile.

At this point I was sure he even knew what a smile meant "You make it sound easy."

"It is easy," I said, meeting his gaze. "You just have to be willing to get your hands dirty."

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes curiosity, or dare I say...trust?But it was gone within the twinkle of an eye, shuttered behind the usual cold CEO mask.

"Go home, Steph," he said, turning back to the city.

I didn't argue and it wasn't because I was taking orders, but because I actually had somewhere else to be.

The elevator ride down was quiet, but my reflection in the mirrored doors betrayed me, eyes alert, shoulders tense, hands loose at my sides, ready for whatever might be waiting.

It was waiting.

The black SUV was parked a little too perfectly across the street...it wasn't moving nor was it parked idle...it was just perfect

I didn't head straight for the subway like a civilian would. Instead, I ducked into the coffee shop on the corner, ordered something I didn't plan to drink, and took the back exit into the alley. The air was damp, so cold it stuck to your skin

By the time I circled back toward my building, the SUV was gone.

My apartment was quiet when I stepped inside. Actually way too quiet.

I didn't own much, but I owned just enough to keep up the façade of a mid-level executive assistant's life. Minimal furniture, neutral walls, no photos, and most importantly no past.

But I knew every inch of it. And I knew for a fact the scent in the air wasn't mine.

I didn't draw my weapon immediately. Instead, I slipped off my heels, my steps silent as I moved through the small space. Bedroom... clear. Kitchen... clear.

Bathroom... not clear.

The shower curtain was drawn.

I gripped the handle of the knife hidden in the towel cabinet and yanked the curtain back.

Empty.

But there was something

A note...

The note was taped to the tile where the steam would hit.

Two words, typed in bold black letters: BACK OFF.

I burned the note over the sink before I called Damian.

"You're being targeted," I said when he picked up.

"I know that, I'm well aware," he replied, but his tone had changed, it was suddenly tighter or sharper. "What happened?" He asked

"Nothing you need to panic about," I said. "Well, at least not yet, I suppose."

"Steph-"

"It's fine, it's nothing...I'll handle it."

A pause. Then: "Don't get yourself killed Miss Munroe."

For a man who supposedly didn't care about anyone, it almost sounded like concern. Well Almost.

When I hung up, I sat in the dark for a long time, the city's distant sirens filtering in through the cracked window.

Whoever had been in my apartment had left without taking anything. They took no valuables. Every file belonging to me was still in place. They only left me a note.

This wasn't a robbery. It was in fact a message.

And you know one thing about me?

I never ever ignore messages.