Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Mack turns me gently to face him, hands on my shoulders. His eyes are steady, dark, and quietly furious on my behalf. “You’re not walking that runway without me in spitting distance. I’ll be stage left, comms open, plainclothes in the house.”
I swallow. “I wasn’t going to argue.”
A ghost of a smile flickers across his mouth. “Smart woman.” He brushes a stray strand of hair off my forehead, thumb lingering just a second too long. “Now go finish your touch-up. You’ve got another walk-through in twenty. I’m right here.”
I glance back at the now-empty vanity, the spot where the box sat like a bomb disguised as a gift.
Then I look at Mack—solid, watchful, ready to tear apart anyone who tries to get closer.
I take a breath, square my shoulders under the robe.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
Mack waits outside my dressing room. When I emerge, he's there. Like a solid fortress. "Good job."
"Praise from the grump? Be still my heart."
He rolls his eyes, but escorts me close. In the car, exhaustion hits and the fear creeps back. "Mack... what if it gets worse?"
"It might," he says bluntly. "But I'm here."
Simple words, but they warm me. Under the shell, I'm terrified. But with him? Maybe I can breathe.
Back at the penthouse, he checks everything again. I slip into silk pajamas, heart racing. One bed. Fake couple.
Instead, he takes the couch. "Sleep. I'll watch."
I mock-pout. "My hero."
But as the lights dim, fear whispers. I curl up, watching his silhouette. He’s a gorgeous guardian. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts about my bodyguard, but I can’t help myself. It’s been so long since I’ve been attracted to someone. My career keeps me pretty busy, and the men I meet in my line of work don’t hold a candle to this brooding man before me. I want to ask him to share the bed with me… but this isn’t a romcom.
So, I close my eyes and try to relax. I definitely don’t think about the stalker out to get me. And I definitely don’t think about the man on the couch.
FOUR
MACK
I wake up with a crick in my neck from the couch, the penthouse still shrouded in pre-dawn gray. Indigo's breathing is soft and steady from the bed. That king bed all to herself, lucky her. I check my watch: 0500 hours. Time to move. The bouquet incident last night has my instincts firing on all cylinders. No more waiting for the stalker to escalate. Instead, we hit back.
I slip into the bathroom for a quick splash of water on my face, then fire up my secure laptop on the coffee table. Heartline's database is already pulling prelims on the delivery logs. But I need the boss's eyes on this. Cassian Rhodes—Cass to those who've earned it—runs Heartline like a SEAL op: tight, efficient, no bullshit. He assigned me this gig personally, knowing my timeline with my brothers. I dial his secure line.
He picks up on the second ring. "Hawthorne. Early bird or bad news?"
"Both," I grunt, keeping my voice low. Indigo's out cold. "The bouquet was rigged—confetti with shrapnel edges. Non-lethal, but pointed. Hotel logs show it came from a local florist, anonymous order paid in crypto. Untraceable at first glance."
Cass swears under his breath. "Figures. Cupid City's a circus this time of year—Valentine chaos covers a multitude of sins. Any prints or residue?"
"Team's running it now. But my gut says it's tied to her ex or a rival. She mentioned firing her agent, bad breakup with a guy who leaked photos. And the showcase? Big money. Someone might want her out."
"Smart money on the ex," Cass muses. I hear keys clacking— he's pulling files. "Name's Derek Voss. Photographer, mid-level fame chaser. Restraining order filed six months ago after the leak. He's in town—spotted at a pre-show party last night. Coincidence?"
"Not in my world." I jot notes. "What about rivals? She's rebooting her brand—anyone losing gigs because of it?"
"Checking... Yeah, a model named Lila Shane, but she's been vocal on socials about 'has-beens stealing spots.' Posted a shady tweet yesterday: 'Some flowers wilt faster than others.' Subtle."
I snort. "Real original. Send me addresses. I'll look into these."
"Negative, Mack. You're glued to the principal. I'll dispatch a team for legwork. Your job's keeping her breathing—and out of headlines. How's she holding?"
"Stubborn. Mouthy. Breaking rules like it's a sport." I glance at her still asleep in the bed. I move toward the large floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city.
Cass chuckles. "Sounds like your type. Watch your six—and your heart. Cupid City lives up to the name."
"Not happening," I growl. "Seven days, then I'm out. Nash's lead on Dad—"
"I know. Go get 'em after. For now, protect the asset."
We hang up, and I dive into the files he forwards. Voss's mugshot stares back—smarmy grin, the kind that begs for a fist. Lila's profile: pretty, petty posts. Leads, but nothing concrete. I need more.