BILLIONAIRE Boss Protector

Clutching my purse, I march back toward the black Mercedes Maybach waiting at the entrance of the cemetery. It's only about three in the afternoon, but the clouds have turned gray suddenly without warning, the moisture in the air growing heavier each second, causing the world to turn dark and dank all around me. Pressing my eyes closed, I flinch, rooted on the spot when a sharp streak of lightning cuts across the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. Biting my bottom lip, I swallow my tears.

Damn it, Natalie. You're twenty-four years old and still scared of a little

desert monsoon?!

As the sound fades, I take a deep breath to gather my strength and begin to sprint as large droplets of water start to fall. Panicking, I dash, not noticing the puddle of mud at my feet, only to slip and fall on my butt with a thud.

Jesus! What a klutz!

With gritted teeth, I attempt to scramble to my feet, only to be startled when low thunder booms again. Heavy rain begins pouring down in sheets and it only takes a moment for me to get drenched pitifully. Feeling my strength escaping my body, my knees grow weak before I can straighten up. My vision is blurred by the driving rain as my eyes catch sight of a familiar figure getting out of the car.

Come on, Nat. Just a few more steps. Get up!

I give up my attempt as the skies grumble again while my hands subconsciously find their way to cover my ears. The cold air seeps into my skin

and I shiver harshly. I can't be sure if it's because of my fear, the chilling wind

through my damp clothes, or the icy cold glare coming from the approaching figure of a man carrying a black umbrella. Within a few breaths, he successfully rescues me from my pathetic pit of mud and despair and seamlessly deposits me on the passenger seat.

I purse my lips as he throws his coat over me, blasting the heater, and. adjusting the vents so that they're all aimed directly at me.

"I-I..." I stutter when he shoots me a look. His jaw is clenched, and his steel

grey eyes look deadly as he squints ever so faintly. "I-I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

"Mmh," he hums simply.

Averting my gaze, I bow my head and stare at the droplets of water through the window as he maneuvers the vehicle from behind the steering wheel. I close my eyes and utter a silent prayer when lightning flashes again. Fortunately, the

noise is muffled in the cabin of the car, and the ride back home is quick.

I get out of the vehicle the moment it pulls to a stop in the driveway. Without sparing the man another glance, I sprint up the stairs and head straight to my bedroom. My clothes are already mostly dry, but I feel sticky and humiliated. I

take a warm shower, blow-dry my hair, and fall onto my bed, staring blankly at

the ceiling.

Today is the third anniversary of my grandfather's death. For the same amount

of time, I've been living under a roof with the cold and despotic Derik Lewis.

Throughout these years, I still can't seem to get used to his demeanor.

Sometimes he's okay, but most times he's overbearing and difficult to read. I still

cannot understand why my grandpa trusted the man so much, to leave me in his

hands. These thoughts linger in my mind as I doze off.

It's pitch-dark when I wake up, making me shoot up from my bed.

It would be detrimental if I came late for dinner. Derik hates tardiness and

values his timetable. The best I can do is adjust and avoid stepping on his toes.

After all, he is my guardian.

I hurriedly slip into a pair of denim shorts and an old t-shirt from the stack of

old clothes in my wardrobe, quite pleased that they still fit. The trip back to

Tucson was planned, but I didn't really pack anything since the villa has been

under trusted care these past few years and I'd never moved all my things out

when I left for college.

"You're awake," Mrs. Whittle greets me when she sees me enter the dining

hall. She's the caretaker, and I've been familiar with her since I was fifteen.

"Good evening," I greet back with a smile.

Settling on my chair, my eyes fall on the man sitting at the center of the long

table. He looks at me grimly, as if I've committed a crime.

I shudder uncomfortably.

"I-I...dozed off."

"Mmm," he acknowledges absently before continuing with his meal.

I perch on my seat, observing his form while waiting for my food. Derik looks

like he's shooting an ad for a high-end brand of cutlery. His movements are

graceful and refined. Mesmerizing would be an understatement. Without question, with his impeccable looks, regal aura, and bottomless pockets, women

would easily line up from his doorstep to Tokyo for a chance with him.

The sleeves of his black shirt are folded to his elbows, revealing his strong

forearms. His muscles contract faintly with his every move. My gaze unconsciously travels to his wide chest and shoulders. Undoubtedly, he's the

only man I've ever seen with such a flawless physique. His face is out of this

world. Seriously, if Lewis Corporation ever declares bankruptcy, he could still

maintain a lavish lifestyle by becoming a model or an actor. From his sharp jaw,

chiseled nose, thin lips, and tantalizing grey eyes that seem to suck the energy

out of everything he lays them into–he is every bit gorgeous. If someone were to

claim he stepped straight out of a romance novel, I wouldn't argue! To top it all

off, he's only in his early thirties, and already possesses everything any woman

could desire in a partner. I can't help but wonder why he's still single.

I snigger inwardly, realizing that regardless of how perfect he seems, he's

human, too. He's not actually flawless. And because of that, he possesses the

greatest flaw–his attitude. Any woman would want a warm and happy life full of

love.

Derik cannot offer them that.

He's a statue, after all. Soulless, ruthless, and devoid of emotion.

"Eat," Derik orders, pulling my thoughts back to the present. I feel heat

creeping up my cheeks when I realize he just caught me staring at him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Mrs. Whittle arranges my cutlery and I focus on my meal in silence. From the

corner of my eye, I observe Derik finish eating, but he remains seated, scrolling

on his phone impassively. When I'm done with my meal, I feel his eyes linger on

me.

"Your grandfather entrusted you to me for one reason. Starting on Monday,

you'll be learning how to run Quinn Industries. You'll be taking over your family's business soon," he states gruffly, breaking his silence.

I frown and raise my head to meet his gaze.

"I just graduated. I was hoping I could take a little break," I plead timidly.

He frowns in disapproval.

"Ms. Quinn, there are many people who cannot afford for you to take a break.

Quinn Industries employs thousands of people, and whether you like it or not,

their livelihoods are in your hands. This is a serious responsibility."

I look down, my hopes deflated. I've already planned to catch up with my old

friends here in Tucson. I want to take a stroll through the places my parents used

to take me and reminisce about how happy my life used to be. Is that too much

to ask?

"I-I...I just want to stay here for a little while," I redirect my gaze to the

droplets of water cascading down the windowsill and muster some courage to

look him in the eyes again. "Can't I?"

Derik pauses and squints his eyes, sending shivers down my spine. I can feel

my ass sweating in anxiety, but I dare to offer him a pleading look–the same

puppy eyes I used to give my grandpa when I was asking for something.

His mouth rises into a mocking grin.

Okay, that was a futile attempt.

"You'll start on Monday."

My shoulders drop.

"William will arrange your position and the duties you'll be assigned. Lewis

Corporation and Quinn Industries have a joint project in Tucson. You'll be

working on that."

Hearing this, happiness surges through me. Blinking, I glance up at him in

disbelief as a smile slowly creeps across my lips. If I didn't know him so well, I

would pounce on him in an outpouring of gratitude.

"Are you serious? Thank you, Mr. Lewis!"

"Mmm," he replies before getting up.

I watch him climb the grand staircase to his study, feeling conflicted.

I'd hoped to ask him about the possibility of moving out on my own, but he

doesn't seem to be in the best mood today. Maybe tomorrow.