The Bodyguard #44

Category: AU, Action, Romance

Pairing: Darvey

Rating: M

Warnings: None.

Summary: Accustomed to handling high-profile clients, not headstrong actresses, Harvey Specter reluctantly accepts the job of protecting Donna Paulsen, a know it all princess who thinks she knows better than him. But when literal sparks fly and her life is placed in danger, he finds himself re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about her.

Ready to start filming her next movie, Donna makes the move from L.A. to New York, but her excitement is saddled by her agent insisting she hire a personal security detail to shadow her every move. Worse is the agent assigned to her, a barking guard dog, Harvey Specter. But when the threats against her escalate and Harvey shows his vulnerable side, that's when she knows she's in real trouble.

AN: AN: I've had so much fun writing this! It's not beta'd. But, like a kid who has never fallen off a swing set and isn't scared, I'm taking a running leap with it :D

…

"I told you, Louis, I'm not going."

Curls of auburn spitfire fly past Louis' face, and he follows his rising Hollywood star to the hotel suite's large vanity.

Most days, he loves being an agent. Other times, he wants to wave a neon sign that reads, 'listen to me you goddamn gorgeous angel of a creature, do as you're bloody well told.'

Donna Paulsen is as stubborn as they come, yet in no way the diva the tabloids portray. She's intelligent, empathetic, and frustratingly humble when it comes to amenities that other stars would simply expect as part of the course.

"Donna, we've been through this. You agreed—"

"I said I'd consider it." She picks up her Rouge Dior, dabbing her lips. "I have. The answer is no."

"Then I guess we're doing this the hard way."

Donna puckers her mouth, scrutinizing the bold color in the mirror. "There's nothing you can say that's going to change my—"

"Jim, hi. It's Louis… No, Donna's fine. Is Clara there?"

Her stool whirls around with a squeal. He wouldn't dare evoke her mother's overprotectiveness to get his way. "Hang up, now."

He takes a measured step back, and, oh God, he really would dare. "No, Louis, don't…" She tries to snatch the phone, but he keeps it just out of her reach.

"Hello, Louis? It's Clara."

Her mother's worry crackles through the speaker, and he throws her a hard look.

"Fine." She gives in. "I'll go."

His features soften with a wide grin. "Clara, I just wanted to check we're still on for the ladies' luncheon next week."

Donna groans in frustration, sitting back down as her agent paces around, chattering with her mother like two nosy women gossiping over neighborhood watch. She loves them both dearly, but they're in cahoots with their latest scheme: insisting she hire a private security guard while filming in New York.

The film set already has an entourage of security hired by the studio, but if meeting with Pearson PS avoids yet another lecture from her mother, she'll choose dinner in a pleasant restaurant over the inevitable headache.

As she removes her lipstick, she mourns its striking shade. It would have been perfect for a night out, but the upcoming inquisition demands a softer, less dramatic look. Something that won't portray her as a helpless, dolled-up drama queen when she speaks her mind.

Louis' sheepish reflection appears in the mirror and she scowls. "If you want to talk to someone, why not try my grandma or great aunt next?"

"You think you have it bad?"

He won't admit he's intimidated by Clara Paulsen, more scared out of his fucking wits.

"I'm the one she yells at when she's done with you. There are words a mother won't say to their daughter, but they sure as shit get said to the next person in line."

His bulging eyes crack her icy facade. Maybe he does have a valid point, but he's not off the hook yet. "If you weren't also my accountant, I'd fire you."

"No, you wouldn't." His expression mellows with confident steps forward. "Don't forget I'm also your stylist, wellness coach, fashion advisor, and motivational speaker."

She butters her eyelids with a subtle shimmer as he twirls her curls into a loose bun, sliding in several pins.

"See?"

He fans some strands around her face, the look perfect. Not too strict, but still classy, and Donna breaks, giving him a genuine smile. "I don't think I pay you enough."

"You would think that. You're terrible with money."

She laughs at his deadpan demeanor.

When they first met, they were like chalk and cheese. Her agent at the time warned her to stay away from Louis, calling him a hack, all wind and no balls. The truth is, her ex-representative was holding her back, anxious she would gain attention too quickly and jeopardize her carefully cultivated image in the industry.

Louis didn't see her career that way. He promised to fight for her creative vision, told her that image was in the beholder's eye — tabloids and media, who could all go fuck themselves, because who cared what they thought? She was goddamn fantastic.

She suspects part of the reason he's pushing so hard to meet with Pearson PS is because he's traveling back to L.A. in a couple of weeks to take care of his other clients. He wants someone in her corner here that she can trust, which is sweet, but a private security detail won't sit around braiding her hair.

"Louis…"

He's able to tell by her tone she's planning to sweet-talk him, but he's not falling for it. "I know you think this meeting is bullshit, but you need to take threats on social media seriously."

"They're just hyped-up idiots—"

"Donna, listen to me."

She huffs, placing down her makeup brush, and swiveling around on her stool.

"This is only temporary. When filming wraps, I'll have you on the first business class flight back to L.A. I promise you'll be sipping margaritas, looking out over the ocean before you realize it." He crosses his heart. "Scout's honor."

"You were never in scouts."

"I was a Girl Scout. Fucking Esther, she… You know what? I don't want to talk about it." His hands fly up, stalling the rant. "Go get dressed, wear the green Chanel suit with the beige silk camisole. You'll knock 'em dead."

Accepting she has no other choice, she stands up, giving him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm doing this for you, not my mother."

He grins at her effluent charm.

That's his girl.

She leaves to go get ready, and he exhales his relief. Now all he has to do is get her to agree to the security firm's contract, which he conveniently forgot to mention involves a live-in surveillance.

He might have to enlist Pearson Private Security for himself so Donna doesn't kill him.

…

Jessica Pearson kicks her protégé's leg beneath their table at Del Posto. Harvey Specter is her best marksman, but he's been fidgeting with his tie like a petulant child. "I know you're bored, but this meeting is important. Act like it," she warns, as they wait for their company to arrive.

"Important to you," Harvey grumbles. He's well aware his boss wants to expand their security firm, starting with an office in L.A. What's unclear is why he had to shave, throw on a suit, and come meet some actress who clearly doesn't know what a watch is, all on his night off. "I told you, I'm not interested in babysitting a demanding, high-maintenance diva who expects everything to be done her way. I heard Tanner was drooling all over your desk when he got the news… Or Christ, give the job to Ross."

"Ms. Paulsen's business is worth more than your highest client, and you want to palm her off to our IT guy?"

"Why not?" He scoffs. "I'm sure Mike can handle a chipped nail."

Jessica narrows her eyes at his childish attitude. "And what happens if someone acts on the threats and harassment being posted on her social media accounts?"

Harvey checks his watch again. "Every thirteen-year-old girl on the internet gets bullied, Jessica. If this woman is scared of a little attention, then she's in the wrong industry."

"Listen to me." She pulls his wrist down with a sharp pinch. "You're pissed off because Ms. Paulsen isn't some mid-weight politician you can sit around playing poker with… I don't care. She's a high-end client, and unless you want to go back on a salary base wage, you'll start taking her business seriously."

Movement at the restaurant's entrance catches her attention, and she clocks Louis Litt and Donna Paulsen approaching the hostess by the door. "Starting now," she tells Harvey, plastering on a smile.

Always one to get the last word in, he deadpans, "I'll try to not let my charming personality overwhelm the diva."

Jesus Christ. Jessica steels herself against his narcissism, rising to greet their guests.

Harvey stays seated, taking a sip from his glass of water as his eyes skirt up and down the redhead's feminine, bold choice of attire. Enough cleavage is peeking through to draw interest, but not be a distraction, unlike the soft whispers of copper hair framing her face. He begrudgingly has to side with Tanner — Donna Paulsen is effortlessly gorgeous.

Her gaze slides across to him and he nods as she breaks away from Jessica and her agent.

Donna scrutinizes the attractive man sitting down. His leisurely manner is laid back, but his ruffled hair suggests he's scrubbed his hand through it several times, indicating he'd rather be anywhere else.

So would she.

Still, to keep Louis happy, she feigns interest in something other than his appearance. "I'm Donna."

She extends her arm over the table, and Harvey sets his glass down, reaching across for the sake of formality.

"Just Donna?"

"I'm not just anything."

His loose handshake and tepid smile fill in the missing blanks. He's arrogant, a blowhard, and he doesn't think her business is worth his time. At least they're on the same page.

"Your tie is crooked," she points out, enjoying the smugness that fades from his lax smirk.

The standing trio seat themselves, and Harvey subtly adjusts the knot around his neck as Jessica launches into her spiel to sell his services. Typically he'd be in a one-on-one, closing the deal himself, but Jessica made it clear that he's a poster boy tonight.

Suits him — until she goes off-book.

"Harvey will be available to you 24/7 with a weekend rotation. Another member of our security firm will be with you those two days. We recommend a two-bedroom rental rather than a suite. Hotel policies make it more difficult to secure and survey rooms. And we'll cover sixty percent of the shared accommodation."

What the actual fuck?

Harvey kicks Jessica's ankle, hard, not caring that he'll pay for the insubordination. He didn't agree to any of this. He works four days with a three-day rotation, and he doesn't play goddamn house with his clients. Especially not some precious actress ruffled by something a stranger said online.

"I'm sorry, but this is absolutely ridiculous."

They're his words, but they fly out of Donna's perfectly painted lips, and she doesn't stop there.

"I don't need a live-in bodyguard for three months because some creep on the internet couldn't keep it in his pants."

"Donna — "

"Louis, no."

Donna glances at Harvey, whose expression is a mix of intrigue and, dare she say, encouragement.

"If it meets the firm's retainer, I'll agree to have someone present at my media engagements, but I don't need a personal guard dog on set when the studio already has security. No offense."

"None taken." Harvey shrugs. "I like dogs."

Her lips wrap around a smile that he reads clearly; neither of them are on board with this, but the lesser of two evils is settling on a compromise to keep their respective bosses placated. "We should order. Wouldn't you agree, Donna?"

He baits her with the emphasis on her name. Payback for the dog comment, she's sure. "Excellent. I'm starving."

She flips open her menu, her gaze dropping away from his childish grin, and Harvey shakes his head at how quickly her agent and Jessica start adapting their plan. Donna's not the vapid drama queen he thought she'd be, but she is in the running for a stubborn princess used to getting her way.

Working her engagements is going to be a ball ache, though, judging by the amount of food she orders, there'll at least be decent catering.

Donna notices him staring and quirks her lips. "I'm guessing the models you date only eat salad?"

"Trust me," he winks. "The women I date need a lot of energy."

"I see… Must be hard work putting up with you."

"I've got a long list with no complaints."

She rolls her eyes. He's probably got half of Manhattan in his little black book, but she wouldn't call what he's referring to as dating. "It's hard to complain if you're in a revolving door."

"Will you be having drinks tonight?" Their waiter interrupts them. "I can recommend a lovely Domaine de la Romanée-Conti to go with your meals."

"God, yes."

"Two bottles."

Donna and Harvey answer in unison.

After their food arrives and the conversation moves back to the firm's contract, Donna swallows a bite of mouth-watering salmon and garlic butter, savoring the rich creamy taste.

Harvey is admittedly impressed as she tucks into a side of fries. She was egging him on, but wasn't kidding about having an appetite, which annoyingly he finds sexy as hell. Physically, she's exactly his type, and his gaze gets a little loose behind his wine glass, until Jessica pulls him up.

"Harvey, do you want to run through your role?"

"Sure," he answers, boldly telling Donna her place. "You do what I say when I say it."

He'd have her screaming his name in no time.

"That's how I keep you safe," he adds, cooling his attraction. "Can you handle that?"

When pigs fly, Louis thinks, nudging Donna under the table and urging her to play nice.

Donna wipes her mouth with a napkin, ignoring her agent as she crumples the tissue and throws it on her plate. "I think I can fire a Beretta 92F handgun just as well as you, John McClane."

"Prove it. Orientation day starts at the shooting range… and when I win, you park that princess attitude."

"Harvey!"

"It's fine, Ms. Pearson. Harvey isn't the first male ego I've had to beat to make a point." She smiles sweetly at him. "Dessert?"

Harvey forces his facial muscles to mirror her expression. The thought of any more to eat makes him ill, but there's no way in the world he's backing down. "I'd recommend the strawberry parfait."

Louis downs a large gulp of wine, and Jessica pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh, but the squabbling stops, and they manage to make it through the rest of the evening unscathed.

Once Donna and Louis have agreed to a contract and thanked them, Jessica waits until they're out of the entrance to scold Harvey. "What the hell was that?"

"Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing," he snaps. "Since when do you pimp me out to be a 24/7 goddamn escort?!"

"Keep your voice down," she hushes. In hindsight, blindsiding him was a bad decision on her part, but after he conducted himself like an infantile, she's in no mood to dish out an apology.

Harvey shrinks into his seat. They fight all the time, but he knows when Jessica's properly pissed off and he sheepishly backs down. "You saw how she was. You can't put that all on me."

Picking up her wine glass, she grumbles her disapproval over the rim. "It doesn't matter. After that display, you were right. I'll assign her to someone else."

It's what he wanted and he should be glad, but a fucking annoying warning buzzes in his conscience. "You can't do that."

"The hell I can't."

"Jessica, she clearly had no respect for me tonight. If you give her to anyone else, she'll think she can get away with acting however she wants."

Not to mention he'll never hear the end of it from that shithead, Tanner.

"You said it yourself," he adds. "If any of those threats are real, she needs someone who can handle her."

Jessica conceals her surprise. She assumed he'd jump at the chance to cut Donna Paulsen loose, but he has that goddamn mischievous look in his eyes that always leads to trouble. "So that's what this whole thing was. You were pulling her pigtails because you actually like her."

"Don't be so ridiculous. You're confusing like with can tolerate, just."

Oh, no she isn't.

"Jessica."

He growls at her smirk, and she drains the rest of her wine. "Fine, Harvey, you win. She's yours."

It doesn't feel like a victory, but he accepts the decision.

Heaven help the firm if Donna Paulsen were to get killed by some psychotic fan.

And God help him if he ends up killing her first.