Page 21 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

The string quartet transitions from their gentle background melodies to something more spirited—a classic waltz with a contemporary twist. Conversations pause as couples begin moving toward the dance floor.

"Ambassador Gellar," Kallus says, his voice silky smooth as he extends a hand toward me. "Would you do me the honor of this dance?"

I see Dowron and Serenity exchange glances. This is unexpected—and potentially problematic. But also an opportunity.

Before I can respond, Varnok steps forward, his massive frame inserting itself partially between us.

"No," he snaps, the single syllable hanging in the air like a thunderclap. "I will not allow it."

The conversation around us stutters to a halt. Even the servers pause, drinks balanced precariously on their trays as they sense the sudden tension.

I feel heat rising to my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from anger. I turn to face Varnok, arching a single eyebrow.

"You... won't allow it?" My voice could freeze nitrogen. "I hardly think that Mr. Bruw is going to snap my neck on the dance floor, BODYGUARD. So I'm overriding your objections."

Varnok's eyes widen slightly at my tone. For a moment, I think he might actually argue further, but he takes a half-step back, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscles working beneath his red scales.

I turn back to Kallus with a practiced diplomatic smile and offer my hand. "Shall we?"

Kallus takes my hand with a triumphant smirk directed at Varnok. "Delighted."

As he leads me onto the dance floor, I can feel Varnok's gaze burning into my back. Kallus positions himself with perfect technical form—one hand at my waist, the other clasping mine—but there's a clinical detachment to his touch. His body maintains a precise, almost mathematical distance from mine.

"You handle your pet vakutan well," Kallus murmurs as we begin moving with the music.

"He's not a pet," I reply, matching his steps effortlessly. "He's a professional doing his job—sometimes with excessive enthusiasm."

Kallus guides me through a turn. "I was so terribly upset to hear about your troubles on the way to Armstrong," he says, his smile and tone completely at odds with the cold calculation in his eyes.

"The trouble was most unexpected," I reply, maintaining eye contact. "But now I have my eyes wide open. Such 'trouble' is unlikely to prevent me from doing my duties again."

His rhythm falters for just a fraction of a second—so brief anyone else might have missed it. But I don't.

"Yes, I noticed you hired a bodyguard," Kallus says, recovering smoothly. "Varnok the Annihilator. Not exactly the walking powderkeg I would choose to bring to peaceful negotiations."

I arch my eyebrows, feigning surprise. "Why, I think his presence is most appropriate," I reply with perfect civility. "Your mining operation threatens to annihilate the Jwoon settlers' way of life."

Kallus's smile tightens. "A pity you're clearly so biased against me and my company," he says as the song comes to an end. "I had hoped for an impartial mediator. No matter. Justice is on my side."

We stop dancing, though he doesn't immediately release my hand.

"I'd ask you to stay for the next song, but I'm afraid your bodyguard might decide to cause violence upon my person." He bends slightly at the waist, bringing my hand to his lips for a kiss that doesn't quite make contact with my skin. "Good evening, Ambassador."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.

I've been outplayed. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Kallus maneuvered me perfectly—using Varnok's protective instincts against both of us. Now he has grounds to question my impartiality, all without ever having to defend his actions on Jwoon.

I make my way back to where Serenity and Dowron stand watching. Varnok looms behind them, his expression thunderous.

"Well," Serenity says quietly, "that was... illuminating."

"He's good," I admit, accepting a fresh glass of champagne from a passing server. "Very good."

"What did he say to you?" Dowron asks.

"Nothing of substance. But everything of intent." I take a sip of my champagne. "He's laying groundwork to challenge my neutrality."

Varnok steps forward. "I should not have spoken out of turn," he says stiffly, the words clearly difficult for him. "I compromised your position."

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