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modern-day-bard · 5 months ago

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Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 3: Headache

Gwen

If someone doesn’t enter this boardroom in the next two minutes, I might have to puke again just out of spite. Though honestly, I could’ve done without that part of the evening. I possibly could have also done without that speech. My plan before was just to dance and have fun in my new dress, cause a bit of stir, embarrass that facade of a gala. But when Daniel so kindly pointed out that I would be giving a speech, I revised that plan. With the help of booze.

This morning, however, booze was not on my side. Nyah was finally back in town, and she insisted we go out last night to celebrate. Not that I would have objected in the first place. But now, my hands are gripping either side of this chair to keep from getting sick. And every small spin this thing makes is like tossing my stomach over the side of a yacht. Unless we get this thing started soon, I might start to sweat through my silk shirt. Either way, the remnants of last night are insisting on coming out.

I’m doing my best to prop myself up appropriately when there’s finally some movement behind the glass wall. The first person I see is Amari, followed by Arthur, and another man looming behind him, but he’s hidden behind the glare of the sunlight coming through the windows to my left. Amari opens the door, and Arthur seemingly tells the man with them to wait outside. Now all I can see is a broad shouldered, flannel-clad backside.

“Amari,” I stand when he enters, trying my best to ignore the sloshing of my stomach, and failing. “Good to see you.”

He inclines his head slightly. “Miss Russell, always a pleasure.”

Except, it wasn’t. Not really. I liked Amari, but I didn’t like what he represented. Usually when the head of security shows up, it means that I’m going to be attending someone else’s gala, broadway show, sporting event, or movie premiere where we can’t station our people at every entrance. That is the last thing I want right now.

“Take a seat,” I say as if I’m the one who called the meeting. But it only feels right seeing as my name is on the building.

Arthur follows in after him, giving me a polite nod.

I give him a small, tight-lipped smile. We haven’t spoken since the gala, even though I expected him to thoroughly chew me out the following morning. I’d stayed in my apartment almost all week avoiding everyone until Nyah invited me out last night. Even when I checked my phone, he hadn’t so much as texted. I hadn’t heard anything until Arthur’s assistant called me yesterday to schedule this meeting. My father hadn’t called either, even through Ezra or another assistant. Though for that, I was grateful.

“So,” I thrum my fingers along the conference table in front of me, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Unsurprisingly, Arthur is the first to speak, “Miss Russell, due to recent events, your father has decided to make a few changes.” He’s already averting his gaze, playing with his cufflinks, “I’m just going to cut straight to it.” Despite what the words would indicate, he takes almost a full minute to vocalize the next sentence. “We’re assigning you a personal detail.”

I wait for there to be more, but he doesn’t continue. Amari has focused a majority of his attention on the city skyline to my left. “Uh…okay? For which event?”

Both Arthur and Amari straighten their shoulders. “No, no. Full time.”

A laugh is forced out of me. “What?”

“Miss Russell, the higher your influence grows, and the older your father becomes, the more harm can come to you,” Amari says gently. “Simply having a driver isn’t enough for your day-to-day anymore.”

I take a deep breath, not wanting to take out any of this on Amari. A small hope grows like a balloon in my chest. Maybe it’s not the worst case scenario. Maybe they mean I’ll have someone assigned to me full time, but he’ll just cover me at larger, corporate events.

“When you say full time,” I ask carefully, “What exactly do you mean?”

“I mean that we have hired someone as a live-in bodyguard. He will accompany you to all events, as well as wherever your daily activities take you.” Arthur says matter-of-factly, as if this isn’t a ginormous invasion of privacy.

And the balloon is popped.

“Live-in. Live-in? Have you lost your mind? What am—am I fucking princess?” I can’t feel my stomach ache over the rising anger in my voice.

“Miss Russell, please. You might as well be—”

“No, Arthur, enough. You hired a babysitter for a twenty-eight-year-old woman! You have how many degrees? How many accolades? And you spent the last week procuring a babysitter.”

“I would advise you to lower your volume, Guinevere.” Arthur says through a clenched jaw.

“What is this really about, huh? What, I embarrassed some shitty people? You didn’t like my dress so now I have to live with a permanent, ongoing home invasion?”

“Cut it with the melodramatics—” Arthur starts before Amari cuts him off.

“Miss Russell, there have been some serious concerns for your safety. It goes way beyond what happened the other weekend.”

I glance back and forth between them both, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I continuously fail to take in calming breaths.

“Is this about—” I stop myself, bringing my hands back to dig into the arms of my chair. There’s no way I can phrase that without revealing too much. I try a different tactic. “Are you trying to get someone to watch me, all the time? To report back?”

Arthur looks confused.

“We’re trying to have some watch over you. Not watch you.” Amari says in that same calm tone.

“I see. And I just have zero say in this, whatsoever.”

“It’s not just you, Miss Russell. It’s the company, it’s our reputation, and it’s your safety. I know you’ve seen your comments, the mail that’s been sent to your personal address.”

“Nothing has ever happened! Thanks to Amari and the very expensive security system I already have.”

“And I am telling you that it is not enough!” Arthur nearly shouts, startling me only a little. Amari remains stoic as ever, but even he must know that this is a rarity.

Silence stings the room for several minutes. I’m still trying to get control over my breathing, but my chest feels tighter by the second. This is just like the gala, and every event before that. Realistically, I know that there is no way to get out of this. Even if I forfeit my inheritance and my future career, which is out of the question, I would still be well-known. It wouldn’t change the fact that I have received more than a handful of death threats. The internet and a few anonymous flowers don’t scare me as much as it scares Arthur, but still. I’ll have to do what I did for the gala. I’ll agree to it, but I’ll be doing it my way.

“I’m assuming that’s him?” I hiss, pointing to the back behind the glass.

Arthur’s eyes widen, just a little. I think he expected another outburst from me. “Yes. His name is Joel Miller, former military special forces. He’s worked for several U.S. ambassadors as well as private security. He came very highly recommended—”

“You could have offered me the decency of choosing my own bodyguard, Arthur.” I know he hears the defeat in my voice because he straightens up once again.

“We felt that there wasn’t enough time to do so.” He mutters, and Amari starts talking before either of us can add any fuel to this dwindling fire.

Amari goes over the new plan. Mr. Miller is to stay in the building with me, whatever building it may be, at all times. He’ll be staying in my guestroom indefinitely. The rest of the staff has remained unchanged, but Amari informs me that part of the reason Mr. Miller was hired is to revamp security. He may wish to add new employees, new systems, and new routines if necessary, and my father and his team have given Mr. Miller full permission to do so. Wonderful. That is, if he sticks around long enough to determine what those changes will be.

Amari has me sign off on an agreement. I look it over despite the fact that this company owns every part of me. I couldn’t exactly say no, but I still always prefer to know what I’m getting into. Nothing jumps out, except for what they already told me about him having permission to be around me 24/7, and he has full access to my apartment. My chest constricts again as I fill the dotted line.

“Well, then,” Arthur stands and Amari and I follow.

“Thank you, Amari,” I give him the best smile I can manage on our way to the door.

He nods, “Of course, Miss Russell. If you run into any questions, please give me a call.”

Amari holds the door for Arthur and me, and I avoid any of the Russell Corp. employees’ stares. I suppose they haven’t seen me in the building for some time, and they definitely haven’t seen me since the gala. Since seeing so much of me at the gala.

“Miss Russell,” Arthur lightly taps my arm which I immediately tug away, “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Miller.”

I glare at Arthur before turning my attention to Mr. Miller. In my heels, he must still be at least half a foot taller than me. I could tell that his shoulders were broad from staring at his back through the glass, but standing in front of him, he could cover me two times over. I guess that is the point with a bodyguard. The thought of his stature makes me give him a once-over, noticing how completely out of place he looks in his jeans and flannel. When I flick my eyes back up to his face I’m…pleasantly surprised. I had never really noticed how security looked before, beyond recognizing their faces so I can put a name to them. Mr. Miller’s face, however, has a chiseled jawline covered in a five o’clock shadow. A little more than a five o’clock shadow, considering it extended to a mustache that matched the dark chocolate waves on top of his head. His eyes, big and brown, look expectant as he reaches his hand out to shake mine.

“Miss Russell, nice to meet—”

“I’m leaving.” I say to Arthur, ignoring the bodyguard’s hand to push past them both. I can feel more eyes on me as I walk through the opulent office floor, but I keep my chin high. When I’m by the elevator, I can hear the damn bodyguard’s footsteps only a few paces behind me.

“Oh, right, I suppose both of us are leaving.” I mutter. He doesn’t say anything. I don't even see him in my peripheral vision.

When we board the elevator though, he’s right there. I go to press the lobby key, but he is already leaning forward to do so.

“Unless the button has an explosive in it, I can press it myself.” I say plainly.

“Yes, Miss Russell.” To his credit, his tone remains calm. Relaxed, even.

After a silent elevator ride, he opens both of the lobby’s doors for me, though I roll my eyes each time. He also gets my car door before jogging around to the other side and sliding in next to me.

“My father didn’t want to spring for your own driver, huh?” I look out the window as Rod pulls away from the building.

“It was an option. Just not the safest one.”

I glare over at him, but he’s looking out the window as well.

“I’m guessing you’ve already been introduced to Rodney, then.”

“We were both briefed. I haven’t met him in person yet. Rodney, I’m Joel. Nice to meet you.” He doesn’t look away from the window.

“Hi Joel,” Rod says from up front. He’s never been much of a talker, especially not while driving. I often wonder if that’s just because he wants to give me a break while I’m riding in between social obligations though. “Where are we heading, Miss Russell? The Mandarin Oriental as planned?”

“Yes, please, Rod. You can drop Mr. Miller off at my father’s on the way.”

“I go where you go, Miss Russell.” Joel’s gruff voice pipes up.

I let out one, tight laugh. “You’re going to come to the spa?”

“If that’s where you’re goin,’” For the first time, I detect a slight twang in his voice.

“Rod, please take me back to my apartment instead.”

Rod glances back at me through the rearview mirror. “Absolutely.”

“You should feel free to go about your routine as planned, Miss Russell.” I can feel him looking at me as he says it.

“You’re right, Mr. Miller. I should feel free to do just that. Except now you’re here to watch my every move.”

“You’ll hardly know I’m here.” Yeah, definitely a southern twang. Not that it matters. Though it does add to the absurdity of his presence in a place like New York. If I liked him, I would offer to get him some clothes that would better suit his environment. But that severely clashes with my plan.

“I highly doubt that.” I snap. I hear him grumble something, but I’m too hungover and sleep deprived to call him out.

When we pull up to my building, I leap out of the car before Joel can get the chance to get another door for me. This time, I beat him to the lobby. I assume he’s behind me by the time I get to the elevator, but when I glance back, he’s too busy staring at the front of the building. I notice that my doorman, Teddy, pays him no attention, which only fuels my anger. Amari must have already sent over Joel’s information. They could have shown me some respect and sent me the information before actually dumping the guy on me.

Of course he’s right on time to ride up the elevator with me, though he lets me push my own buttons this time. Maybe he’s trainable.

Arriving on my floor, I can sense him hesitate behind me.

“The elevator takes you directly up to your floor?” He asks, scanning the contents of the big metal box like it’s the lineup for Nascar, or whatever people from the south might care about.

“Yes. There are two penthouses in the building, and this is one of them.” I drop my purse on the floor and make my way into the kitchen.

“Is there a passcode to arrive on this floor?”

“You can use a passcode, I use a key fob. Don’t have to type anything in that way.”

Joel follows me to the kitchen, but he’s still surveying the entire loft. You don’t have to move around much to do so. From the front door, you can see everything but the bedrooms and bathroom.

I pull out my blender, wincing as it clanks on to the marble countertop. It’s almost eleven and this hangover refuses to fade. Not that the tall, handsome, human-headache standing at the edge of my kitchen is helping. No, not handsome. Just a headache. I need a fucking nap.

I add in blueberries, spinach, almond milk, and some protein powder all the while feeling his eyes on me.

“Do you have any eggs?” His voice surprises me.

“Uh,” I begrudgingly check the fridge again, not actually sure what the personal shopper dropped off earlier in the week. “Yeah. Are you…hungry?” I hadn’t thought about how to feed this man. The thought of him cooking and eating in my kitchen is unsettling.

“No, thank you. But you should add at least one of those into your, uh, smoothie.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “So you’re a bodyguard and a nutritionist now?”

I think I see a small quirk at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly becomes impassive again. “To help with the hangover. That’s all.”

“I never said I was hungover.”

“You didn’t have to,” He mumbles, moving into the living room seemingly to check the windows.

“Dick,” I curse to myself. I stare at the carton for another second, and making sure his back is still turned to me, I let out a light cough as I break one of the eggs into the blender. Couldn’t hurt.

After pouring my smoothie into a glass, I pull my silk shirt so that it’s untucked from my pencil skirt. I have roughly twenty minutes left before I either knock out completely or puke up everything I’ve got. Again.

“Miss Russell?” Joel calls from the end of the living room.

“Mr. Miller,” I mimic his tone, hoping his protective instincts are strong enough to feel my snark from several yards away. I take a seat on one of the sofas, curling my knees up beneath me as best I can without sweatpants.

“Would now be a good time for us to go over some safety measures?”

I take another sip, and try taking another deep breath with it. “Sure. But I have some items I’d like to go over as well.”

He doesn’t even look surprised. “Alright. Would you like to go first?”

“No.” I gesture to the sofa across from me so he’s not just an ominous, somewhat awkward presence in the corner. He opts to stand next to it, leaning his hand onto the armrest.

“Well then, we should start with your building. You should get rid of your key fob. Anyone can steal it when you’re not looking. They can copy it. Some programs are sophisticated enough to get access merely by scanning the purse that your key fob is in. I’ll settle for the passcode for now, but we’re going to need to choose something that no one knows. Not even your friends.”

I scoff, “Oh, that’s where we’re going to start? Just limiting access for the people I actually want to visit?”

“Yes. It also limits anyone they might bring with them from seeing them type it in, breaking in here later, harming you, or robbing you blind.” So, Joel has some snark to him, too. Mildly interesting, but irritating nonetheless.

We just stare at each other for a moment before he continues.

“I’ll be installing a new security system. There’s nothing on these windows. You’ll need something that both alerts you and the authorities if they’re opened or broken.”

I blanch at him. “Mr. Miller, we’re on the tenth floor.”

“I understand that.”

“Do you understand why it might be a fair assumption that most people couldn’t break-in through a window on the tenth floor? It’s a remodeled building, I’m not even sure they can open.”

Joel’s eyes narrow a bit. “If you wanted to hire someone to make it into the building next door, leap across to this one, and scale down the side of the building and break the window, do you think you could?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Do you think you could?”

“Yes. I probably could. Because of my incredibly wealthy family.” I state it as a fact.

“And do you know other wealthy people? Even those who work for your family?”

“Obviously.”

“Then they could hire them, too.”

I purse my lips, “You sound a little paranoid to be a bodyguard.”

“Personal Security Officer. And that comes with the territory.” Did he just correct me? His tone is still that weird mixture of gruff and calm.

“Anything else?” I say sweetly.

“I’ll speak with Rodney, but your car should arrive and exit underground when possible. Walking out in the open without anyone surveying the street isn’t the best course of action. On that note, I’ll need you to stay close when we arrive or exit. We can deal with the rest when we come across it.”

“The rest? There’s more?”

“I’ll have to follow your routine for a while to determine any other blind spots.”

“Blind spots…mhm.” Between the set of his shoulders and his word choice, I think Joel will be in a shock when he realizes how anticlimactic this job actually is.

“Why even bother with this conversation if I have practically no say in the matter?” Maybe I’m just trying to agitate him, but I’m also slightly curious.

“Because I believe in transparency. And there is usually some room to compromise.” How noble of him. Though he emphasized ‘some room’ a little too much for my liking. “And what are your requirements, Miss Russell?”

“Space.” I say.

“Can you…be more specific?” He raises a dark brow at me.

“If we must be in the same building together, I’d like you on a different floor. Or at least somewhere I can’t see you. As for the apartment, we can try to stay out of each other’s way.”

“I can give you your space. But when we’re outside of your home, I need you to be within my eyeline at all times.”

“So just not at all what I’ve asked.”

“I can’t protect you if I can’t see you,” He counters.

I slurp down the last of my drink, the pounding in my head already turning to more of a dull ache. “Fine.”

I put the cup back in the kitchen, and pad over toward the hallway, “I’ll show you to your room, then.”

The hallway is more closed off than the rest of the apartment. The bathroom is at the direct opposite end, with one bedroom on either side of it. That being the only bathroom was the one downside of this place, but the view of Central Park won me over. I have a feeling that decision is going to bite me in the ass now.

Flicking on the light to my guest bedroom, I’m surprised to see that there is already a bag on the bed. Joel comes up behind me now, and I shift to lean against the doorframe.

“Someone’s already dropped off your…luggage.” Is a singular duffle bag considered luggage? “So, get comfortable, I guess. Unpack.”

Joel maneuvers his body to narrowly slide past me into the room. “I’m guessing you’re unsure of who dropped off my bag, when they did it, and how they got it in?”

I ignore his snarky question to ask my own, one that I unfortunately already know the answer to, “How long will you be staying?”

“Indefinitely. There’s no end date in my contract.”

“Perfect,” I nearly spit as I stride into my own room and close the door. I make an immediate move towards my walk-in to hunt down some sweats. My phone rings as soon as I’ve removed the skirt.

Thank god. Nyah.

“Hey,” I grumble, placing her on speaker while I put away the skirt.

“You sound about as good as I feel.”

“Nye, you wouldn’t believe it. You happened to drag me out on my last night of freedom. If I wasn’t so nauseous this morning, I would thank you.”

“That’s why I called. I wanted to make sure I didn’t have food poisoning or something. I feel like death.”

“Yeah, no. It may have been the three scorpion bowls split between the two of us, babe.”

“Whatever,” she groans, “You’re probably right. Why was it your last night of freedom? Is your dad sending you on a work trip or something?”

“Ha. Nope. He hired me a full-time babysitter in the package of a bodyguard. Or ‘personal security officer’ I’m supposed to call him. As if they suspect any real danger. It’s just to keep me in line, I know it. It’s bullshit.”

“Full-time meaning...?”

“Oh yeah, he’s here right now. Living in my guest room indefinitely.”

“Not fair! That’s my room.” Her voice drops to a whisper, “Is he hot? Would I want to share?”

“He’s a pain in the ass, that’s what he is.” I unbutton my blouse before tossing it in the laundry bin labeled: delicates.

“So he is hot.”

“Not the point, Nye. I’m going to get rid of him.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Well, I’ve been rude. Like, really rude. Anyone else on staff wouldn’t have recognized me. The next phase is to also be annoying as hell.”

Nyah laughs lightly. “This guy was hired by your dad, right? Do you know how much he’s being paid? It would be hard to annoy someone out of that kind of paycheck.”

“I just have to out-annoy any price.”

“I stick around for free, so you’re going to have to give it your all.”

“Shut up,” I laugh as I bend over to grab a sweatshirt out of one of the drawers. Before I pull it over my head, I catch a sight of myself in the full-length mirror. I think back to last Saturday and all of the stunned looks that were cast my way.

“Maybe I can do a combo... Rude, annoying, and promiscuous.”

“You did not just say promiscuous.”

“I’ll make him as uncomfortable as possible. I bet he doesn’t last a month.”

“With William money, I’m betting he lasts at least six.”

“We’ll see.”

Nyah ends the call, saying she’s going to attempt to shower while trying not to get sick for the third time.

Good idea.

I drop the sweatshirt in my closet, and strut out of my room in nothing but my bra and underwear. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Joel’s door is still open. Excellent. I lean against my doorframe for a moment before slipping into the bathroom, turning on the shower, and turning up the heat. I smile to myself under the scorching water. I’ll turn this contract of his into one giant pressure cooker, and Joel will be none the wiser.

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