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"What?"

He held out his phone, the screen unlocked. "Call me." When she made no move to take it from him, his grin widened. "Call me so I can get your number."

Her mind reeled from his clever play on words but took the sleek, black phone from his hands.

"What did you think I meant?" Alejandro asked, a teasing tone in his voice, his words slippery. Once she had called his number and saved both her and his number on their respective mobile devices, she looked up and handed his phone back to him.

He accepted it and slid it into his pocket. Her eyes followed the movement. "Also, I think I have something of yours."

She looked up to meet his eyes. "What's that?"

Reaching behind him, he grabbed a familiar briefcase from the doorway. She must have missed it before because she was too busy ogling his handsome face and impressively well-built physique, especially in the dark suit he was wearing.

"This is yours, isn't it?" He smirked.

She nodded and accepted it graciously. "Where did you find it?"

"Hardy mentioned that you were asking for it so I picked it up from the police station."

"The police station? Why?"

"It needed to be checked out as a part of evidence collection." He shrugged. "It came back clean."

She nodded in understanding. "Thanks for returning it to me."

"So, aren't you going to invite me in?"

Layla didn't bother as she turned around and headed towards her living. Sitting down on the sofa, she placed her briefcase on the coffee table and opened it up. After a quick rummage through her belongings, a sigh of relief escaped her to find that everything was accounted for; the form, her papers, her business plan. Everything was there.

"What's inside the briefcase? And why is it so important?" He asked, crossing his elbows on the back of the sofa as he peered over her shoulder, his warm breath caressing her neck as he spoke. His face was so close to hers that if she were to turn, her lips would graze his cheek.

This man needed to learn a thing or two about personal space.

"Nothing important." She replied, closing the latches on the briefcase and laying it down on the table.

"Then why did I wait hours at the station waiting to get it checked out if it wasn't important?" He had her there. This briefcase was the beginning of the fulfilment of her dream but that didn't mean that she was about to pour her heart out to an absolute stranger, even if he was her supposed personal bodyguard.

She rolled her eyes and bit her tongue. He had been in her apartment for less than five minutes and she was already getting annoyed with him. "It's my business plan." She spared a quick glance at him from her peripheral vision, but huffed when he met her gaze with a knowing smirk.

Manoeuvring around the sofa, he sat down next to her, bumping his shoulder with hers. "Tell me more." He bumped his knee against her, baiting for a reaction.

Her scowl deepened but she found herself answering his question anyway. "I want to extend my café and open up a restaurant as well. I was at the bank asking for a loan."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he rubbed his jaw in thought. "I didn't peg you for a cook." He didn't remember reading that in her file. He had either forgotten that it was mentioned, or had been too distracted with her appearance to pay attention to anything else.

She frowned and scooted a little away on the sofa in attempt to put some distance between them. She probably wasn't going to be fond of his answer but found herself asking anyway. "What did you peg me for then?"

The action didn't go unnoticed by him as he smirked, his eyes lingering on the space between them. In retaliation, he spread his arms out on the back of the sofa, his fingers playing with a few strands of her hair as he gazed at her. "Some type of model." He shrugged. "Or a lawyer, perhaps."

"A model?" Her nose scrunched up in distaste, not that she had anything against models. She had just never thought of pursuing a modelling career. She didn't have the body for it. For one, her modest height of 5 foot 6 failed to meet the minimum requirements and two, she wasn't slim enough. With being an avid cook with her own establishment, there was never a shortage of food or sweet treats for consumption. It was only because she forced herself to workout regularly that she was able to have a somewhat flat stomach, though nothing compared to the standards that the modelling industry required.

A lawyer, that was more reasonable. She had considered it briefly back in high school, but figured it was more to do with all the crime series and documentaries she loved to watch, and less to do with wanting to spend the rest of her life doing it.

"You've got the looks for it." His appraised her, lingering on a few distinct parts of her body. "And the body too." When she coughed, his eyes snapped back to hers and his lips stretched into a wide grin. She had caught him checking her out, in her own home too, and while she didn't appreciate the gesture, he didn't seem to think anything wrong with it.

It was that grin. He thought all would be forgiven with a flash of a smile and he was right. Already she found herself staring at him, lost, for longer than she cared to admit.

How was she going to last with him as her bodyguard?

"Have you got any food? I'm starved."

"Help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

A breath she didn't realise she was holding, escaped as he stood up from the sofa and turned to head to her open kitchen.

It was late and she was tired, but he didn't seem to be in any rush.

"I had pizza for dinner a couple hours ago. It didn't really hit the spot." He called from the kitchen and she stood up to follow the deep, husky sound of his voice to find him heating up a plate in the microwave. "This chicken looks amazing."

His back was to her as he watched the microwave timer. The suit jacket he was wearing before had been abandoned and placed on one the stools along with his tie.

Her eyebrows furrowed together. "That's my chicken." She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. Sure, she hadn't wanted it but that didn't mean that she wanted him to eat it. it was supposed to be her midnight snack but now she would have to settle for something else.

He shook his head and waited for the beeper to go off. "Not anymore." And when it did, he grabbed it along with a knife and fork before turning around to sit at the kitchen island for his second dinner that evening.

She sighed and grabbed two beers from the fridge. Uncapping them, she placed one down in front of him while nursing her own, choosing to sit across him instead of next to him. That would put some much-needed space between them both, not that, that would save her from him.

She glanced at him from the top of her bottle. "We need to talk."

He quirked a questioning brow, his mouth full of chicken soaked in pretty much all the gravy she had made. "Already?"

"Already?" She echoed him; her mind perplexed.

A low chuckle passed his lips. "We've just met and you already want to talk."

Layla rolled her eyes and sipped at her beer. She wasn't enjoying it unlike most evenings. The company she was currently keeping probably had quite a lot to do with that. "So, you're my bodyguard?"

"I thought we already established that, beautiful." There he went again with that word.

Beautiful.

She certainly didn't feel beautiful in the oversized hoodie she was wearing having been released from the hospital the previous morning.

"Don't call me beautiful. I thought we already established that."

"You need to stop using my lines and come up with your own material. We wouldn't want it to become boring now, would we?"

She didn't bother responding.

Silence engulfed them as he finished the rest of his – her – meal and she gave up on her beer, only managing to throw back less than half of it. Once he finished his, he suggestively eyed the bottle she was holding before she sighed, and she slid it over towards the counter to him. He accepted and finished threw it back in a few gulps.

She felt the need to gulp herself as she watched his mouth close over the top of the bottle, his jaw move and his Adam's apple bob up and down as he drank.

"You're an amazing cook. You should open up a restaurant." The complemented her, his words laced with mirth.

"Funny." She muttered quietly, not in the mood for humour. The events that had transpired over the last couple of days was finally catching up to her. "It's getting late. You should go."

He eyed her for a few moments, his light eyes drinking her in as she avoided all eye contact. If she looked at him, she was afraid he would know exactly what she was feeling. "I'm Alejandro Serrano."

"I know." She replied cautiously. "We already did the whole introduction thing."

"But not properly. Not really." His mouth turned up into a small, barely-there smile and he held out an outstretched hand towards her. "I'm Alejandro Serrano."

At first, she hesitated but when he made no move to retract his hand, she accepted it. "Layla Abraham."

Her hand felt so small in his, and she felt even smaller when he held onto his for a little longer than what was deemed necessary or appropriate. When he did finally release her, he made sure his fingers ran over the back of her hand, his touch electrifying.

She wasn't sure if he knew what she was feeling. The way his eyes studied her suggested he did, and that was scary.

"Layla Abraham, nice to meet you. I'll be your bodyguard for the unforeseeable future."

"What does the job description entail?"

"It involves me guarding you and your body with my life." An innuendo. She had expected something of the sort from him and was surprised that he had even managed to last for as long as he did. Alejandro seemed to get a kick out of making people uncomfortable and unfortunately for Layla, it appeared that she was his next victim. For the unforeseeable future.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. I take my job very seriously."

"How is this going to work then? You're going to follow me around all day?"

"And night."

Layla frowned and blinked up at him. She was sure she saw something glint in his eyes, but didn't voice her concerns aloud. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Alejandro leaned forward and reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She refused to move away. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction that his presence was bothering her because she knew that he was doing all of this on purpose, to bother her; to make her uncomfortable. "I think you know exactly what I mean."

"I'm going to call Detective Hardy." She stood up with the very intention of heading to the living room and grabbing her phone to call the man in question and give him a piece of her mind. She was never told that having a protective detail consisted of having him around 24/7. And someone as obnoxious as Alejandro Serrano, as well.

"And disturb his sleep?" He questioned, stopping her in her tracks. "He's a very busy man and I imagine; he has to be up early in the morning. You sure you want to wake him over an issue this small?"

She turned around and threw her hands up in the air. "This can't be part of the deal."

He leaned back, his eyes watching her as she walked back and forth, trying to collect her thoughts. "So, how about the sleeping arrangements? You going to make me sleep on the sofa?"

She snorted at his suggestive tone. "Anywhere but my bed."

"Too bad."

"Yeah, too bad." She whispered under her breath.

"What did you say?" He called from the sink, washing his dishes.

She forced a smile on her face. "How many pillows do you want?"

-

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L A Y L A K N I G H T

26.04.2020