Safe & Sound Ch. 01byShatterMe©
Notice: This story is more on the character-based, romance side and less about the sex or kinkiness. There will be sex, though not too much of it. The first few chapters might not have it yet, since I want to make the romance a little more realistic and not rush things. Hope you guys enjoy!
Tonight I'm curled up on the couch in my loft, eating takeout and watching RuPaul's Drag Race. I've been living here by myself for almost two years now and it's awesome, although I do admit it gets a bit lonely. It feels good to live in your own place, even though my dad insisted to pay for everything. Despite my countless efforts to explain to him that I want to actually earn my own money, he always shook it off and basically gave me no choice.
Daniel Glass is the CEO of Glass Enterprises, a multi-trillion-dollar empire that's known globally around the world because it pretty much covers any platform of consumer products from clothes to electronics to vehicles, you name it. It owns the majority of the buildings in the country, and also owns many hotels, record labels, film studios, I could go on and on. We live in a Glass world is what people always keep saying, and I'm pretty sure that became the company's official tagline.
Daniel Glass also happens to be my father.
I won't deny that I'm spoiled, because I've been spoiled rotten ever since I was born. Although obviously, as I grew, I started to have the urge to actually earn money for once, and work it. Although I didn't get into modeling or acting or reality TV or any of that crap, no. I do not want to be more in the spotlight than I already am. But I have always wanted to be a young adult author, even though my writing is quite horrifying.
My father let me take up jobs, he didn't really care. What he always said was, "What's the point?" because he already has my trust fund ready, and I'm pretty sure it's enough money to last until I die, really. I guess my father never thought I would need to learn how the real world works. My older brother apparently did, though, because he's the heir to the Glass "throne", if you will. He's overseas in college right now, and from what I last heard from him, he told me that Daniel (I don't like calling him Dad--for specific reasons I won't mention, not yet at least) gave him a list of jobs to do for a whole year, jobs that'll apparently make him change his bad boy ways, I guess. But even with his attitude, he's still Daniel's pride and joy, because he's the heir.
Me, I'm just the youngest daughter he doesn't seem to care much about. See, the thing is, Daniel has no problem about giving me money or whatever. I could ask for a freaking private island and he'd just shrug and get one (although I wouldn't actually be dumb enough to ask that). But not once in my entire eighteen years of existence did he ever give me the one thing I desired the most: a father's love.
My mom had passed away after birthing me, and I've spent all my life being taken care of by many maids and bodyguards and just generally people that my father hires. I'd only get to see him for a few minutes a day, at the very most, and he'd just give me a quick peck on my cheek before he leaves again. And that was only when I was little. As I got older, the pecks stopped and became just small smiles with emotionless eyes. And then those stopped too, because eventually I stopped seeing him overall. Or rather, he stopped seeing me. I've attempted to go to his office numerous times yet he was always too busy.
He didn't come when I won first place for a talent show when I was in fourth grade. One of my caretakers did. He didn't come to the swimming match I had my freshman year, where I didn't win but support would have been nice. I did get it, but once again from one of my caretakers.
He didn't even come during my graduation. My fucking graduation. Guess who came instead? Just guess. One of my goddamn caretakers indeed, you are correct, sir.
I've seen pictures of my mom, and I can't deny that I look a lot like her--same fair skin, same deep blue eyes, and the same pale blond locks, although my hair is dyed pastel pink at the moment--and I've had this thought that . . . maybe the reason Daniel avoids me all the time is because I remind him too much of her. I don't know, I've just never seen him as a person capable of love, really. He's probably at his 357th model now, and all of them have just blurred to me. They're usually just arm candy, and they barely last two weeks.
So despite my being the daughter of a trillionaire, I've never had . . . someone. I have friends, of course, and have had a couple of flings here and there, but . . . I feel like these people would never have given me the time of day if I weren't Daniel Glass's daughter. If I were just some ordinary, small town girl, I feel like these people could care less about me. Yet, despite their superficiality, I hang out with them anyway, because . . . well, it's better than having no one. The people Daniel hired for to care for me all my life never counted because they were fleeting, and they were only doing it for the cash. None of them ever truly cared about me.
I've wondered many times what my life would've been like if my mother survived. I know it's unhealthy to dwell in "what if's" but . . . I just can't help imagining it. Would I actually have love in my life? Would my father look me in the eyes for more than half a second? I could go on forever just asking what if what if what if but there's no use in that.
I shouldn't be all woe is me about my life. Many girls would kill to have it. And yet why do I feel so . . . empty? Unhappy?
Probably because the one thing I want, the one thing I need, money can't buy.
I let out a sigh and finish up the rest of my dinner, turning my attention to the TV screen as the bottom two drag queens lip-sync for their lives. In the end, the one I'm rooting for stays, and I sigh in relief, then get up from the couch to throw away the now empty takeout box. I take a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and gulp it down, and am just about to go back to the couch when I hear a knock on the door, making my eyebrows shoot up. I glance at the clock. Almost 10 p.m. Who would be dropping by this late?
I look down and tug my oversized sweater down a little, because I'm not wearing anything under it besides my bra and panties. This is what I usually wear when I'm at home, a big sweater that reaches my thighs. I probably should put some pants on before I answer the door, but seeing that it's so late, it's probably one of my girlfriends. My friend Kia once kept banging on my door at about 1 a.m., and she was drunk off her ass.
I make sure my sweater covers me almost to my knees and then head for the door, unlocking and opening it. The first thing I see is someone's chest, and I have to look up to see his face. When I do, my jaw almost reaches the floor.
Maybe this guy is a stripper and he got the wrong address or something, because what I see standing in front of me is a freaking sex god. He's well over six feet tall, dwarfing my five-foot-two petite frame. He's wearing a dark gray shirt under a black jacket, and even with him clothed, I can tell that he's ripped underneath. He has dark, tanned skin, without a speck of imperfections in sight. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, thick eyebrows that match his effortlessly tousled black hair, and emerald eyes that are staring back at me. Those eyes seem familiar to me, but I'm sure I would remember being face-to-face with someone like him.
It takes a while for me to snap out of it, and when I do, I try my best to hold back from blushing at his amused look. "Um . . . can I help you?"
He chuckles, a deep, warm sound that sends tingles down my body--in a good way. "I had a feeling you wouldn't remember me."
I furrow my eyebrows. "Am I supposed to?" My eyes travel downwards and see that he's carrying two suitcases, and my eyebrows furrow even more. "I think you got the wrong address."
"Aura Glass, right?" he asks, and I nod. "Yup, I got the right address, alright."
"I don't understand. Who are you?"
He smirks. "Jackson Rivera."
Jackson Rivera. I know that name . . . My eyes widen as I remember who he is. We were somewhat friends when I was in middle school and he a high school freshman. At least, until he had to move away. But back then he was lanky and freckle-faced, yet I always thought he was cute. How did he turn into . . . this?
I let out a chuckle of disbelief. "No way."
"Yes way," he says, giving me a lopsided grin. The same contagious grin he'd give me back then, although this time it's infinitesimally more dazzling than it ever was before.
My jaw drops again. "What . . . happened to you?" I say in awe and disbelief.
He laughs. "The army happened. Training, and lots of it. Your dad assigned me to be your bodyguard."
I almost fall over. "Excuse me?"
He nods. "He's told me to stay here with you, keep you safe."
"Since when did I need to be kept safe?" What the hell is Daniel up to now? I was not notified about this whole "personal bodyguard" thing, and I didn't get a say. But I guess that's typical of Daniel Glass, always doing what he thinks is right without hearing or caring about what I have to say.
"It's . . . complicated. There have been threats made against your father, and a lot of them involve harming you."
I feel a twinge of fear. Why was I not notified about any of this? "Threats from who?"
"From people who think they've been manipulated by your dad, I guess. Or protesters." He shrugs. "He didn't tell me the specifics. Just that I need to keep you safe. Technically you have other bodyguards, but he picked me specifically to be with you at all times because he knows we know each other, although we have a lot of catching up to do, I suppose." He chuckles. "And I'm also more trained in combat than the other ones, so."
"So . . . you're supposed to stay here, at my loft?"
He nods, shrugging. "That was part of what he told me to do."
I bite my lip. So my former (I think) friend who has turned into a sex god has to live in the same roof with me? I wonder how that's going to turn out.
"So can I come in then?" he asks politely.
"Sure," I say with a nod, heart pounding for whatever reason. I step to the side to make room for him.
He has to duck slightly to get through the door due to his height. He looks around my loft for a moment. "Nice place you got."
"Thanks." My loft isn't anything impressive in size. I didn't want to get one that was too big because I didn't really need all that space. I loved the futuristic look and feel of it, though, and I decorated the interior with furniture of that particular theme, all varying colors because I didn't want it to be too dull and have just a simple palette of colors. I wanted vibrance, yet I also wanted it to look homey and cozy. In the end, I think I pulled it off quite well.
The TV's still on, and it's showing the Untucked portion of RuPaul's Drag Race, where it shows backstage catfights and drama between the queens. One of them is currently in a heated battle with another, and Jackson turns to the TV with raised eyebrows, then to me. "Drag queens? Really?"
"Hey, don't judge me! I love the show." I giggle softly.
He grins, and for a moment he looks me up and down, making my cheeks flame. There's a few seconds of silence before he asks me where the guest room is. I point it out for him, and he nods politely at me before turning away and heading for the door to his new room. Only when he's out of sight do I stop staring at him.
So apparently I'm living with a guy who could make Greek gods insecure now.
Sure, no big deal.
That's the end of chapter one! Hope you guys like it so far. Expect more sexual tension in the next chapters. ;3 Also, I'm really only writing this for fun, but constructive criticism is appreciated!