Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 227

Kira’s POV

We were in the first-class cabin, on our way to New Delhi.

I was sitting up straight in my seat, hyperaware of every movement, as I munched on my breakfast.

I was halfway through my fruit plate when I felt him.

Damien.

He appeared beside me like a shadow, leaning in close to pluck an apple from my tray. His cologne hit me first, and I found myself shifting away instinctively, my shoulder pressed against the window. "What are you doing over here?"

Damien took a bite of the apple, his eyes never leaving mine. "Seriously? You’re really asking me that question?"

"Yes."

"Wow." He settled into the empty seat next to me, even though his actual seat was two rows up. "Sometimes I wonder if you are actually my bodyguard or just someone who follows me around for fun."

I bristled. "Of course I’m your bodyguard..."

"Then act like it." His voice dropped lower, more serious. "How exactly are you supposed to protect me when you’re sitting back here and I’m up there? What happens if danger strikes? How would you save me?"

Heat crept up my neck. He had a point. A very valid point.

"You’re right. I apologize." I straightened my posture, slipping back into professional mode. "Sometimes I forget the nature of my job."

Damien studied me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his face. "Do you? Forget?"

"What?"

"The nature of your job." He leaned back, still watching me with that intense gaze. "Or is there something else you’re forgetting, Kyle?"

My pulse quickened. What was he talking about? Was he testing me?

"I don’t know what you mean, sir."

"Don’t you?" He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Never mind. Eat your food. We have a long flight ahead."

He stood and returned to his seat, leaving me staring after him.

The rest of the flight continued slowly. Every time Damien moved, I tracked him. When he went to the bathroom, I positioned myself strategically in the aisle. When the flight attendants served him meals, I watched to make sure nothing was tampered with.

I was doing my job. Being Kyle. Being professional.

So why did it feel like I was failing some test I didn’t even know I was taking?

When we finally touched down in New Delhi, the wall of heat that hit us was staggering. Even in the air-conditioned airport, I could feel the warmth seeping through.

"First time in India?" Damien asked as we collected our luggage.

"Yes, sir."

"Try to enjoy it. Despite the business meetings, New Delhi is incredible."

I wanted to roll my eyes at the idea of "enjoying" anything while on duty, but as we stepped outside into the chaos of Indian traffic and the vibrant colors of the city, I felt something shift in my chest.

It was beautiful.

The buildings were a mix of ancient and modern, temples standing proudly beside glass skyscrapers. The streets thrummed with life - auto-rickshaws weaving through traffic, street vendors calling out their wares, the smell of spices and incense mixing in the air.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, professional, but I caught myself staring at everything like a tourist.

"You can be impressed, Kyle," Damien said, amusement coloring his voice. "I won’t tell anyone."

"I’m maintaining situational awareness, sir."

"Of course you are."

Our car drove through the streets, and despite myself, I pressed closer to the window, taking in the view. Women in brilliant saris walked the sidewalks, their fabrics flowing like rainbows. Street food vendors grilled something that smelled absolutely divine. A sacred cow stood in the middle of an intersection, completely unbothered as traffic moved around it.

This was nothing like New York.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" Damien’s voice was soft.

I cleared my throat, forcing my attention back to the job. "It’s... colorful, sir."

His quiet laugh suggested he knew exactly what I was really thinking.

********

The hotel was stunning. It was a perfect blend of traditional Indian architecture and modern luxury. The chandeliers looked like they belonged in palaces.

Damien approached the reception desk with the confidence of someone who owned the place. "Reservation under Wellington."

"Ah yes, Mr. Wellington. Welcome." The receptionist smiled warmly. "We have your suite ready - two bedrooms as requested."

My stomach dropped. "Suite? Sir, I can get my own room..."

"You’re my bodyguard, Kyle." Damien didn’t even look at me as he signed the paperwork. "How exactly are you supposed to protect me if you’re three floors away?"

"But..."

"Two bedrooms. Separate spaces. Unless you have a problem with that?"

I did. I had several problems with that. But I couldn’t articulate any of them without revealing things I could not reveal.

"No problem, sir."

"Excellent."

We headed to the elevators, my mind racing. Sharing a suite with Damien Wellington for three days. Three days of being in close quarters with my hot boss.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

The elevator doors closed, trapping us in the small space, and my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out and my heart sank.

Kennedy calling...

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

I’d told Kennedy I was going to a work summit. A boring digital marketing conference. Not a three-day trip to New Delhi with my dangerously attractive boss.

I declined the call.

Immediately, he called again.

And again.

"Are you going to answer that?" Damien asked in a neutral voice.

"It’s not important," I said quickly, declining another call.

"Your phone has rung three times. Seems important."

"It’s not."

Kennedy called again. The elevator dinged, announcing our floor.

"Kyle." Damien’s voice had an edge now. "Just pick up the damn phone."

"The call isn’t important," I insisted, stepping out of the elevator and heading down the hallway.

"Are you sure?" Damien followed, his long strides easily keeping pace. "Because someone seems very desperate to reach you."

"I’m sure."

My phone finally stopped ringing as we reached our suite. Damien swiped the key card and pushed open the door, revealing a space that was somehow even more luxurious than the lobby.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city. Rich fabrics in deep reds and golds. Traditional Indian artwork on the walls. And two doors leading to what I assumed were the separate bedrooms.

"Take the room on the right," Damien said, already loosening his tie. "Get some rest. We have a meeting in two hours."

I nodded and escaped to my designated room, closing the door and leaning against it.

My phone buzzed with a text.

Kennedy: Is everything okay? You’re not answering. Call me when you can.

Guilt twisted in my stomach. I typed back quickly:

Me: Everything’s fine. Just busy with the conference. Will call later. Promise.

I stared at the lie on my screen before hitting send.

Three days. I just had to survive three days. Then I’d be free of this job, free to tell Kennedy the truth, free to actually figure out what I wanted my life to look like.

I could do this.

I absolutely could do this.

...Right?

*******

Olivia’s POV

I stood in my hotel room, unpacking my suitcase and hanging clothes in the wardrobe, but my mind was miles away.

Why did Maxwell react that way?

The question kept circling through my brain like a song I couldn’t shake. He’d looked right through me. Treated me like I didn’t exist. Like I was nothing.

Wasn’t I supposed to be the one angry with him? I was the one who’d been played, manipulated, confused at every turn. So why did it feel like the roles had suddenly reversed?

God, this man was confusing.

I dropped the dress I’d been holding and sank onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

This trip was probably the last time I’d see Maxwell. I’d resigned - well, resigned myself by running away and drugging his security team. There was no going back to that job, to that life, to playing Oliver.

And it just hit me.

I was going to miss him.

Actually, genuinely miss him. Despite everything he’d put me through as Oliver, I was going to miss Maxwell Wellington.

Maybe I should just tell him the truth. Come clean about everything. Confess that I’d been Oliver all along.

I didn’t have a job to protect anymore. No reason to maintain the disguise. What did I have to lose?

But how could I approach him with that attitude he was exhibiting? With that cold indifference?

A light knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

"Come in!" I called out, not moving from my position on the bed.

The door opened and Gabriel stepped inside, his expression concerned. He sat down next to me, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded automatically. "Just jet lag. I need a little rest and I’ll be fine."

"Are you sure?" His voice was gentle. "This isn’t about what happened with Maxwell?"

"No. It’s not."

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, then he groaned, running his hands through his hair. "Damn. I really messed up, didn’t I?"

I turned to look at him, confused. "What?"

"Our first date," he said, a rueful smile playing at his lips. "Do you remember it?"

How could I forget? "Of course I remember."

"It was fun, wasn’t it? Beautiful, even. Maxwell followed us, tried to cause chaos, did everything he could to destroy our date. But it still ended well." Gabriel’s eyes met mine. "I wish I’d pursued you then. Wish I’d followed up immediately instead of wasting my time pining after a woman I knew I could never have."

My chest tightened at the honesty in his voice.

"And now I’m back in your life," he continued with a bitter laugh. "But as your fake boyfriend. While you have feelings for the third-wheel who tried so hard to sabotage what we could have been."

I found myself smiling despite the complicated knot of emotions in my chest. "He really did try hard, didn’t he?"

"Oh, he did." He finished with a laugh. Then he turned towards me and asked quietly. "Do you love him?"

I jumped up immediately, "Alright, we’re not doing this today. We’re not sitting here brooding about love, or our sad romance lives."

"But..."

"No!" I grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the door. "We’re in Tokyo! One of the most incredible cities in the world! We came here to have fun and relax, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do."

I honestly didn’t want to dwell on that question.