Chapter 9
Pacing my room up and down has never been worse. I’ve never had such anxiety almost to the point I shake. My head is ringing again; I don’t know what to do.
Why is he here? Why did he come back? Should I be happy or sad because I dragged him into this shit with me?
I tried to go outside my father’s office and sneak a few glances but, of course, the corridors were crowded and no one let me get close.
Ugh, this waiting is killing me. Maybe I should go and work out for a while; it always helps me calm my nerves.
Or maybe I should go and see what’s going on.
Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.
I march up to the door and open it forcefully, only to find him outside, hand up, ready to knock on the door himself.
“Oh, hey!” I exclaim, trying to hide my shaky voice.
“Going somewhere this early?” he asks, amusement flickering in his expression.
“I thought you left.”
He widens his brown eyes. “Shame on you. Where are your manners, little orchid?”
Little orchid … A nickname that I can’t get out of my head. The nickname that a total stranger called me, and I instantly fell in love with it.
“Uhm …”
“Won’t you tell me to come inside?”
“Sure,” I say, stepping to the side, trying to hide my awkward glance.
Slowly, he enters my room, folding his hands behind him while his eyes roam around.
“Well, fancy place you have here,” he says without looking at me.
“That’s why you’re here? To comment on my decor?” I cross my arms after closing the door.
“What else, little orchid?” He looks at me with a mischievous smirk, raising an arched brow.
“I saw you going to my father’s office. Why?”
“Business,” he says indifferently, his eyes still darting around my room.
“And why did you come here?” I ask, unable to hide my annoyance.
“Unlike you, I have manners. I came by to say hello.” He stops in the middle of the room and looks at me. “That simple.”
This man’s calm, easygoing vibe is somehow both hilarious and absolutely infuriating. And right now, it’s leaning hard toward the latter.
“Great, you said hello. Now what?” I say, rolling my eyes, not even bothering to hide my irritation anymore.
His eyes land on the purple orchid on my boudoir, and a hint of surprise crosses his face.
“I guess the nickname I chose for you suits you perfectly. Is that right, little orchid?”
“I’m sure you don’t even remember my name.”
He scoffs with a smirk, almost amused, and slowly walks towards me, his hands still behind his back. I take a few steps back, my back crashing against the wall, but that doesn’t stop him.
“Please,” he says quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes piercing into mine. “I always remember what matters.”
I lift my eyes and meet his. He’s giving me the most intimidating look I’ve ever seen on a man, yet somehow, I’m not uneasy. A little awkward, sure, but not in a bad way.
“Oh. Uh … okay,” I mumble, trying not to look away. “But you didn’t reply to me. What are you doing here?”
Slowly and without tearing his eyes off me, he shoves his hand into his pants pocket and takes out something.
“I brought you this,” he says, opening his palm, revealing my orchid hairpin.
“My hairpin!” I blurt, almost childishly, reaching out for it. He closes his hand around it and pulls it back, tilting his head with a smug little smirk. “What …?”
“You know why I came.” His voice is low, guttural.
“I-I don’t,” I mumble, feeling my knees giving in.
“You dragged me in this shithole with you, princess,” he says solemnly. The amused and easygoing demeanor is completely gone. What’s left on his face makes my spine feel like it’s about to snap.
A knot forms in my throat as he looms over me, intimidating me to the core.
“I did it to help you.”
“Funny how I’m just as screwed as you now.” He leans in closer, his minty-fresh breath hammering my lips. “Some rescue mission, princess.”
I need space. I shove him hard, my hands trembling.
“Funny how you don’t see my father would’ve crushed you like a cockroach if it weren’t for me.”
He crosses his arms, a smug grin tugging at his perfectly shaped lips.
“Oh, so that’s what this was. You wanted to play the hero,” he says, dripping sarcasm. “My bad. I figured you were just bored and wanted a shiny new pet to drag around on a leash.”
“I just wanted to save your life, you idiot!”
His brows lift, eyes lighting up with entertained disbelief, like he just heard the dumbest thing all week.
He steps in close, grabs my jaw, and slams me back against the wall, firm enough to make a point.
“Oh, little orchid,” he purrs, voice thick with dark sarcasm.
“You might be the boss now, but I’m the reason you’re still breathing.
So unless you’re dying to see how fast things can go sideways …
” He leans in, lips grazing my ear. “Maybe show a little gratitude to the man who’s been playing guard dog for you and doing it on a pretty short leash. Unless, of course, you like it rough.”
Yeah, he’s enjoying this way too much.
The bastard’s smirk is practically dripping off his face, and his hand is still on my jaw possessive, like he owns the air I’m breathing.
He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth.
“You don’t have to like me, little orchid,” he says, low and maddeningly smooth. “But don’t forget … You chose me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the shiver crawling up my spine.
He’s infuriating, arrogant, and dangerous.
And somehow, maddeningly right.
I clear my throat. “What happened to you?” I ask, looking at the scratch on his cheekbone.
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but that arrogant glint is already back in his eyes.
“Occupational hazard,” he says, cocking his head. “Turns out not everyone’s a fan of my charm.”
My jaw tightens, heat rising fast behind my cheeks. Oh, he wants an attitude? Sarcasm? The full back-and-forth treatment?
Fine. He picked the wrong girl to poke.
I square my shoulders, meet that smug look head-on, and smile sweetly.
“Wow. Must be exhausting, being this full of yourself and still managing to get punched in the face.”
Let’s play, asshole.
“Oh, princess,” he drawls, tilting his head. “If that’s your version of foreplay, we’re gonna get along just fine.”
He steps in close again, eyes flicking to my mouth. His fingers graze my jaw again, slow and possessive.
“Hit me with that fire all you want,” he murmurs. “Just don’t act surprised when you get burned back.”
And there it is … That infuriating, irresistible smirk.
“I thought you came here to work,” I say, each word slow in my attempt to provoke him more. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you’re flirting with me.”
His smug little grin twitches.
He pulls back, the grin fading into something darker, and shoves his hands casually into the pockets of his black cargo jeans.
“Actually, I’m not,” he says coolly. “I’m here to make sure no man so much as looks at you and lives to tell the story.”
“What?”
“Daddy’s got some pretty serious brain damage.”
“I don’t understand.”
He paces a few steps, all slow swagger, then drops himself onto my bed.
“You wanted me to be your personal bodyguard. Done. Here I am.” He leans back on his elbows.
“Your daddy ‘advised’ me to keep everyone away from you. Because—and I quote—’death follows.
’” He clicks his tongue. “Touching, right? Nothing says ‘dream job’ like being stuck guarding the girl who has everyone around her somehow ending up buried.”
He leans back further on my bed, eyes on the ceiling.
“Honestly I’m flattered he picked me to babysit the Grim Reaper’s spoiled little heir. It’ll be my pleasure to slit those fuckers’ throats.”
Dad has completely lost it, but honestly, that part doesn’t even shock me anymore.
What does get to me is how calm Adam is about it, like killing is just another thing on his list for the day.
Who am I kidding? He enjoys it; I saw how easy it was for him to put my father’s man in the ground.
My eyes are nailed on the floor. “So, you’re no different from the others.”
“What did you say?”
“I said you’re no different from the others,” I repeat, looking at him. “You’re just a cold-blooded killer.”
“Now that’s insulting,” he says, rising to his full height until he’s right in front of me, towering over me with that dark, imposing presence that wraps around the room.
“I can assure you I’m not like any other man you’ve ever met.
” He leans in, his breath brushing my skin as his thumb traces a slow line along my cheekbone.
The touch is gentle, almost reverent. “Because I’m not just assigned to kill anyone who lays a finger or even an eye on you.
” His gaze sharpens, cold and merciless.
“The difference is I’ll actually do it. And I’ll enjoy every second of it. ”
My breath catches, but he keeps going.
“I will protect you with everything I’ve got, Isabella,” he says, calm and dead in the eyes. “And if anyone so much as fixes their eyes on you, I’ll crush them like a fucking insect under my shoe.”
He finally meets my eyes. He is serious, terrifying, and undeniably loyal. His thumb drags lower, brushing against my lower lip. He takes out my pin and tucks it in my hair, exactly the way I do.
“You have my word. And that’s not something I ever give lightly.”
He turns around, heading to the door.
“Adam?”
He stops and looks over his shoulder. “Yes, little orchid?”
“Can I trust you?”
“Yes.”
I let out a low chuckle, feeling my cheeks blush.
“Isabella,” he adds. “Start locking that door, hm?”
I nod, and that’s all he needs. He turns and walks out of my room.
Strangely, I trust him. I trust a killer more than I ever trusted my own family or the polished liars that always circled around me.
He doesn’t pretend. He’s not afraid to cross lines or blur them just to stay close.
He steps right into the chaos and stays there, like it’s exactly where he belongs.
And he … he sees me. Not the perfect daughter. Not the pawn. Me.
That alone is more disarming than any threat he’s ever made.
Hours later, I’m still wide awake. It’s already 3:53 a.m., and here I am, lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, mindlessly scrolling through my phone like that’ll calm anything down. It doesn’t.
My chest won’t settle. Knowing he’s somewhere under the same roof messes with me more than it should, and I can’t figure out why. I barely know the man. Hell, I shouldn’t feel anything about him at all … but I do.
Do I?
All I know is that something is keeping my nerves on edge and refusing to let me sleep.
My phone rings. Unknown number.
“Who the hell is it at this hour?” I mumble to myself.
I pick it up. “Hello?”
“Hello, Isabella.”
He’s a man—definitely. But I don’t know him.
“Who is it?”
“A neighbor,” he says slowly. “Closer than you think.”
Something about his tone makes my skin crawl.
“Colton? Is that you?” I ask with a shaky voice.
“Guess again.”
My eyes start darting around on their own. My body has already decided I’m in danger before my mind can catch up. Panic surges up my throat, making it hard to breathe.
It feels exactly like that moment in a slasher movie, right when the girl realizes the killer isn’t on the screen anymore. My mind is clouded, and I can’t think rationally.
“What do you want?” I ask fiercely.
“Did you lock your door like you were advised to?”
My gaze snaps to the door, and before I can second-guess myself, I cross the room and pull it open.
And there he is, leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting for me for hours. He slides his phone into his pocket without breaking eye contact. His stare is steady and unblinking, hooking into me.
Heat rushes up my spine so fast it steals my breath. I can’t move. His presence pins me in place far better than fear ever could.
“You don’t listen, little orchid.” He smirks. “Next time, lock your door properly.”