Bodyguard (YN x Beyonce)

Part Eleven

I woke up first.

Her arm was slung over my waist, her breath warm against the back of my neck. For a minute, I didn't move — just listened to the quiet, to the rhythm of her breathing. It still caught me off guard sometimes, how natural this all felt. Like I'd always belonged in this bed. Like she belonged in my arms.

Eventually, I slipped out from under her, careful not to wake her, and padded toward the kitchen. The chef was already there, prepping for the day.

"Hey," I whispered, leaning against the counter. "I need your help with something."

He looked up and smirked. "Planning a surprise for the Queen?"

I grinned, rubbing the back of my neck. "Yeah... something like that."

He nodded. "I'm in. What are you thinking?"

"I want to do something lowkey, private. Just us. Dinner tonight, something intimate. Romantic but chill. I don't want it to feel like a production — just real."

He gave a knowing smile. "I got you."

With the plan in motion, I headed back upstairs. Bey was just waking up, stretching, her shirt sliding off one shoulder in a way that made my chest tighten.

"Where'd you go?" she asked, her voice raspy and soft.

"Handled a few things," I said with a smile, crawling back onto the bed beside her.

She eyed me. "You're being secretive."

"Am I?"

She raised a brow but didn't push it.

We spent the morning running light errands... a quick stop at a private boutique, checking on some tour logistics, and grabbing smoothies from her favorite spot. Every time someone looked at her too long, I felt it — that tight little twist in my stomach. I didn't want to be jealous, but I was. Especially after the brunch conversation yesterday. I knew she noticed it too. Just like I noticed how she stole glances at me when she thought I wasn't paying attention.

Beyoncé was the kind of woman who noticed everything.

As we pulled back into the house, she looked over at me in the passenger seat. "You're quiet today."

I shrugged. "Just thinking."

She studied me for a beat, then reached for my hand and gave it a light squeeze. "You've got that look like you're up to something."

I just grinned. "Maybe I am."

What I didn't say was: I want tonight to be special because I've never felt like this before. Because you're worth every bit of effort. Because I think I'm falling for you, and I don't want to hide it anymore.

But I figured I'd save that for tonight.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a soft golden hue through the windows as I lit the last candle.

The chef had outdone himself. A private three-course dinner was laid out on the table, still steaming. I'd asked for all of Bey's favorites — light, flavorful, and a little indulgent. A bottle of wine chilled nearby. The dining room was transformed: rose petals scattered across the hardwood floor, the table adorned with fresh white and blush pink flowers, candlelight flickering against the crystal glasses.

Everything smelled like vanilla, roses, and the faintest hint of lavender.... warm, comforting. Home.

I stood back and looked at it all, trying not to overthink it. This wasn't just dinner.

This was me showing up.

The soft sound of heels on the stairs pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned just in time to see her.