Hey everyone! New story, which I hope you will like. I'ts lighthearted and fun, romantic and sweet. You know, the usual. I had this planned for a while but finally decided to write it out and post it. The story is about a girl, Gemma, is forced to marry Daniel, a man who works for the CIA and, most importantly, her father. Due to the fact that Gemma has been threatened, Daniel will serve as her personal body guard with the facade of being married. The problem is that the two can't really stand each other. Any feedback you have to offer me would be greatly appreciated. Again, I really do hope that you enjoy it!

Just a note, the italicized words under each chapter title is a line from one of two songs by Natasha Beddingfield; Stumble (of which this story is named after) and I Bruise Easily. I don't own any of these songs, so full credit goes to her.

Thanks for checking the story out! I hope you like it; I hope you review. Have a wobderful day!

001. Rich

“My manners leave a lot to be desired”

So the hotel was a bit seedy, and the neighborhood the hotel was in wasn’t exactly the safest place to be, and Gemma Harrison was almost certain that there was some sort of drug bust going on in the room next door, but that didn’t matter. See, the point was that she escaped from home, and she had succeeded! And not only that, but her best friend in the whole world offered to tag along as well, so at least she wasn’t completely alone. Although, now that Gemma thought about, nobody was really going to be intimidated by two twenty year old women, were they? Even if Gemma had some background in self-defense (thanks to the overprotective mother of hers), it wouldn’t really matter because druggies usually had guns, didn’t they? Gemma stifled a moan, frustrated with herself. She should know these statistics; her father was in charge of the whole CIA, for chrissake. But then again, her mother was quite adamant that her father not bring up work at dinner. And besides dinner, the family rarely saw each other.

Brent Harrison, Gemma’s father, was head of the CIA, and while he had a set amount of hours he worked during the day, it wasn’t odd for him to get called in early or for him to stay incredibly late. Gemma rarely heard about things concerning the CIA, not only because everything was confidential and whatnot, but because she and her father rarely talked one-on-one. Now that Gemma thought about it, she was disappointed with that situation. She and her father had a strong relationship, the two just never really talked. Of course Brent would tell her to protect herself and insisted she carry some mace and, of course, took her to Family Day at the CIA, but other than that, the two didn’t see each other. Carlene Harrison, on the other hand, was a professor at a local Washington, D.C. community college, specializing in sociology. However, the family actually lived in Virginia in a very nice, very large home. It was the home Gemma had grown up in, and she cherished it because of the all the memories it housed.

As Gemma let a sigh escape from her lips, she ran her fingers through her hair. A familiar sense of regret was bubbling inside of her, but as usual, she suppressed such feelings. Honestly, she had only been gone for two days and one night. This was technically the second night. The first night was spent at Gillian’s house where the two best friends got shitfaced and Gemma let it slip that she wanted to run away. She couldn’t take the protection her father had forced upon her. The job of two of his agents was literally to follow her around, and she had had enough. Gillian suggested they run away to Los Angeles because she was obsessed with Dana Carvey for whatever reason. But she literally had everything he was in, movie posters decorated the walls of her room, and apparently, they had the same birthday. Go figure.

But now Gemma was not drunk; she was quite sober, in fact, and quite surprised both she and Gillian had actually gone through with this plan. They didn’t bring much. All Gemma had was a couple of pairs of clothes and her purse that held her wallet and other personals. Gillian had taken an old Dana Carvey biography “to get her through the days,” as she liked to say.

“I’m going to take a shower!” Gillian called and headed into the door.

Gemma’s eyes flickered around the room. She had never seen a living space so… small. Of course, she would be the first to admit that she had a very secluded childhood. But really, the living room and bedroom were combined, and the bathroom was so small, she could touch the opposite wall in the shower. She really should write the hotel corporation and complain.

When she heard the shower flicker on, Gemma decided to change into her pajamas. They weren’t very fashionable by any means, but they kept her warm and comfortable, which was quite important to the young woman. She wore plain, grey sweatpants that were one size too big for her and a soft yellow Spaghetti Cat shirt. She smiled just thinking about it. She had recently seen Joel McHale, the host of the popular satire The Soup, and stuck around and bought a shirt. He signed it and even took a picture with her, which was proudly displayed on her cell phone. She kept telling her mother she was going to marry him, despite the fact that he was already married and had two kids.

“I’ll become a Mormon,” she would joke lightly.

As she slipped on her shirt, her eyes narrowed in on the opened window. Shit. She walked over to the window and glanced outside, hoping nobody had seen her. That would be embarrassing, especially if people knew who she was. However, as her eyes darted around the dark exterior, she sighed with relief. No one. She was just about to close the curtains when she paused. Her eyes caught the silhouette of a man, probably six foot. And he had very familiar incredible blue eyes. Double shit. Quickly, Gemma tried to duck out of view and nearly banged her head on the windowpane. He hadn’t seen her, had he? Oh yes, he most certainly had.

Well, they couldn’t stay there any longer. Gemma hastily rapped on the door of the bathroom. “We have a Code Blue!” she exclaimed, and then quickly tried to stuff both her and Gillian’s things in their bags.

Gillian stepped out of the bathroom approximately fifteen seconds later with soap still running down the side of her face. “Him again?”

Gemma nodded. “Yeah,” she replied, and then tossed Gillian her stuff. “We gotta go.”

The two women exited the hotel door and tried to very quietly head down the stairs of the hotel. Their eyes got used to the darkness after a while, and for a moment, they froze, making sure he wasn’t near them. When they were sure he disappeared, they began power walking, hustling silently until a group of men suddenly blocked their way. They were all dressed in suits, and Gemma recognized a couple of them. This was one aspect that definitely sucked, having a father who happened to be head of the CIA.

Well, it wasn’t exactly over, was it? All they head to do was turn and run.

Shit.

He was back.

Code Blue for his blue eyes.

Okay Gemma, think.

And before she fully processed it, she took a step forward and punched him square in the nose. He blinked, completely taken aback, and then felt his nose. Yes, he was bleeding. Gemma and Gillian were as surprised as he was, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise when the men came up behind the two women and grabbed them easily.

--

“…absolutely ridiculous… and he told me he found you there… of all places you could go, Gemma, there?”

Gemma was currently in her father’s office, sitting down in a chair. Two agents were waiting at the entrance of the room, standing stoically and staring in front of them. One of the agents happened to be Code Blue, who had since wiped any trace of blood from his nose. Gemma was quite tempted to see if she could make them smile, like the royal guards in England. But the look on both of her parent’s faces nipped that idea in the bud. She was in so much trouble. Her mother was staring at her pointedly from her usual corner of ‘Lecture Hall,’ as Gemma had dubbed the place, while her father was doing his usual pacing, up and down the room, his full face tomato-red.

“…no reason why… you could’ve told us you wanted to go to LA… summer is much more dangerous than winter…”

Gemma wasn’t really listening, actually. In fact, she was beginning to plan her weekend. Didn’t Public Enemies come out soon? Johnny Depp and Christian Bale? Talk about a fantasy come true… One was the roguish bank robber while the other was a sexy, dark FBI agent. Hmm. She couldn’t choose a side.

“…we have no other choice… will be your body guard… don’t want others to know… since you’ve had stalkers before… will be your husband.”

“What?” Gemma asked sharply, her eyes going wide. Maybe she should have been paying attention…

Her father sighed his usual frustrated sigh through his noise. “I said, Gemma, that you’ve had trouble with stalkers before, and you know this. As head of the CIA, I have lots of enemies, and I can’t have my only daughter running away into the grasps of those enemies. So, I’ve decided to assign you a body guard of sorts.”

Gemma didn’t have the strength to argue quite yet. She could’ve sworn…

“…but, of course, we don’t want anyone to know,” Brent continued, “that you have a bodyguard. We still want you to be normal, of course, as normal as a girl in your position can get. So we’re just going to disguise him as your husband. Your mother and I have discussed it already, and we think it’s the best idea. We’re going to have a ceremony and everything. Anyways, would you like to meet him? Dan!” he called, staring at the door. “Come in, would you?”

Tons of questions and arguments flooded Gemma’s mind, but they stayed perched on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes were focused on this Dan fellow, and she couldn’t quite believe it.

Code Blue.

Triple shit.