Bodyguard (YN x Beyonce)

Part Thirty-Six

The California sun hit just right that morning... gold and soft like melted honey across the living room floor. From my desk in the office, I could hear the faint trickle of water from the pool, a distant hum of someone mowing three houses down. LA never really shuts up, but today it felt... still. Like it knew not to disturb the mood in this house.

I sat in sweats and a tank, still barefoot, laptop open and AirPods in, catching the tail end of a call with a client in Zurich. I wasn't even all the way back from vacation mode, but the business wasn't slowing down for me. I built this thing to run hot, and it was.

I had been so in love, so caught up in the rhythm of us... Beyoncé and me, the pregnancy, our new life... that I'd slipped out of my usual mode. And I didn't regret it. Not even a little. But I felt it now, that quiet buzz in my chest that meant it was time to lock in again.

My business had built a reputation fast... discreet, elite personal security and logistics for some of the highest-profile names in the world. Musicians. Actors. Billionaires. Presidential candidates. All of them came to me when they needed someone smart, loyal, unshakable. And I delivered every time.

But now I had a waitlist of clients needing bodyguards, full protection teams, international transport coverage. Some of my top agents were spread thin. I needed to reshuffle and scale, fast.

I ended the call, leaned back, and cracked my neck just as my phone buzzed.

Jay-Z: Outside for Blue.

I stared at the message for a second, thumb hovering. Not because I didn't know he was coming. Just because it was still a little surreal, sometimes. The whole situation. Not in a bad way. Just in a... damn, look at my life now kind of way.

I stood and stretched, glanced down the hallway toward our bedroom. Beyoncé was upstairs resting. She was bigger and almost ready to pop. Pregnancy had her up and down lately, but she never complained. And when she slept, she slept deep. Peaceful. I liked knowing she was up there, safe. Our son and daughter growing inside her, warm and protected. That was the only thing that really mattered.

I padded to the front door and opened it. Jay was leaning against a black Escalade like something out of a GQ spread. Blue was already halfway in the backseat, chatting with the driver about snacks like she ran the place.

"Yo." he said, casual nod.

"Hey." I replied, offering a dap. "You good?"

"Always. You back on the grind?"

"Had to be." I half-smiled. "Clients want security like yesterday."

He chuckled. "That's how you know it's working. You're building something real."

"I hope so." I said.

He looked at me a little longer than expected. Then, "You ever think about coming over to Roc? We're expanding... security, lifestyle, management. Could use someone like you."

I breathed through my nose, calm.

"I appreciate that." I said. "But I think I got it."

Jay nodded slowly, taking that in. "Respect. Just offering. We family now, after all—since we share a babymama."

I tilted my head. Smirked, just a little. "Nah. That's my wife."

Paparazzi got the pics of Bey and already exposed her being pregnant, but nothing got out about the marriage yet.

Jay blinked. That caught him off guard. His smile faltered—just for a second. "Damn." he said, eyebrows lifting, voice a little lower now. "That fast?"