In Love with My Defiant Bodyguard

Stacy Thompson had always gotten her way.

At twenty-four, she'd mastered the art of wrapping people around her finger-a smile here, a well-timed tantrum there, and even the most stubborn person would bend. Her father's employees? They jumped at her every whim. She had no friends and became so cold after her mom died. Even her father, the powerful David Thompson, owner of Thompson Industries and one of the wealthiest men in America, usually gave in sometimes....

Until today.

"Absolutely not," Stacy said, crossing her arms as she stood in her father's study in their mansion. "I'm not having some stranger following me around, i'm 24 dad!"

David Thompson didn't look up from the documents he was signing. His jaw was set in that familiar stubborn line that Stacy had inherited from him. "It's not up for discussion, Stacy."

"Everything is up for discussion dad!"

"Not this." Her father finally met her eyes, and Stacy saw something there she hadn't seen in the six months since her mother's death-fear. Real, bone-deep fear. "The threats are credible. After what happened to your mother, I'm not taking any chances."

The mention of her mother made Stacy's chest tighten, but she pushed the pain down like she always did. "Mom died in a car accident."Stacy says

"That's what the police report says."David replied

Stacy froze. "What does that mean?"

Her father's expression closed off. "It means you're getting a bodyguard, and that's final."

"I don't need protection. I need answers!" Stacy's voice rose. "You won't talk about what happened, you won't let me look into it, you just want to lock me away like some princess in a tower!"

"I want to keep you alive." David stood, his imposing six-foot-three frame towering over her. "And you will cooperate with your new bodyguard, or I will cut off your credit cards, your trust fund access, and every other privilege you take for granted. Do I make myself clear?"

Stacy stared at her father in shock. He'd never spoken to her like this before. Never been this harsh, this unbending.

"Crystal," she said coldly.

"Good. He'll be here in ten minutes."

"He?" Stacy raised an eyebrow. "You hired a male bodyguard to follow your daughter around?"

"I hired the best. Gender is irrelevant."

Before Stacy could respond, there was a knock on the study door. Marcus, their head of security, stepped inside. "Mr. Thompson, Isaiah Wright is here."

"Send him in."

Stacy turned toward the door, preparing her best dismissive expression. She'd have this bodyguard quit within a week. She'd done it before with personal assistants, and drivers. This would be no different.

Then Isaiah Wright walked through the door, and every thought in Stacy's head evaporated.

He was tall-at least six-two-with broad shoulders that filled out his black tactical jacket perfectly. His dark hair was cut short, military-style, and his jawline could cut glass. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. Bright blue, sharp, and utterly unimpressed as they swept over her