Chapter 7 #2
Rising, she moved toward her suitcase at the end of the bed. “Well, if you’re planning to camp out all night, I should warn you, I have terrible sleeping habits. I toss, I turn, I hog the blankets.”
“I won’t be sharing your bed.”
She paused, shooting him a mock-serious look. “Right, glad we got that settled. You don’t snore, right? Because if you do, I’ll smother you with a pillow.”
For the first time, a low, quiet chuckle broke from him. It softened his hard edges, just enough that she had to look away before she smiled too wide.
“Noted,” he said.
Elise slipped behind the bathroom door, heart oddly lighter, and told herself the flutter in her chest had nothing to do with the man sitting sentinel by her window. Nothing at all.
By the time Elise emerged from the bathroom, Blake hadn’t moved. He was still by the window, chair angled so he had a view of both the door and the street below. His jacket hung across the backrest, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his forearms strong and steady in the muted glow of the city.
She cleared her throat, trying not to look impressed by his immovable calm. “Comfortable?”
“Perfectly.”
Man, it really wasn’t a comfortable chair.
She’d used it and could attest to that, but if he wanted to say he was good, who was she to argue?
“Good. Because I don’t intend to whisper ancient Irish bedtime stories to make you feel at home.
” She slid beneath the covers, the cool sheets brushing against her skin.
He didn’t answer, and for a long moment, the only sound was the faint hum of traffic beyond the glass.
Elise stared at the ceiling, arms folded over her chest as if she could will herself into sleep.
She told herself she should be furious, indignant, even, that a man she barely knew had commandeered her room.
That he’d decided for her what was safest without asking.
But the truth was, her heart wasn’t pounding with anger. It was … settling. The ever-present prickling on the back of her neck, the suspicion she was being watched, had dulled the moment he’d stepped through her door.
And that was unacceptable. She rolled onto her side, scowling into the pillow. Get a grip, woman. He’s just a man. A pushy, arrogant one with a hero complex.
Her mind tried to drift back to her notes and the foundation donations. Yet every time, Blake intruded. The sound of his low chuckle when she’d threatened to smother him with a pillow. The way he’d scanned the room without hesitation. The way his presence seemed to anchor the air itself.
She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would block him out. It didn’t.
“Trouble sleeping?” His voice carried softly across the room.
“No,” she said into the darkness, sharper than she’d intended.
He didn’t reply, but she could feel him there, steady, silent, immovable. Watching over her as he’d promised.
And instead of bristling, instead of plotting how to kick him out, she found herself breathing easier. Which only made the knot in her chest twist tighter.
Because she was not a woman who needed protecting. She was not a woman who let anyone dictate her path. And she sure as hell was not a woman who should be comforted by a stranger standing guard in the night.
And yet …
Her last conscious thought before sleep pulled her under was a reluctant, infuriating truth … She didn’t want him to leave.
Blake hadn’t moved all night.
The chair by the window had grown less forgiving with every passing hour, but discomfort didn’t matter.
He’d trained himself long ago to ignore frustrations like pain, cold, hunger, and fatigue.
What mattered was the rhythm of the city outside, the muted noises of the hotel settling, and the steady rise and fall of Elise’s breathing from the bed.
She’d fallen asleep tense, fighting it with every muscle, her stubborn pride refusing to admit she still felt safer with him there. But eventually, exhaustion had won. She’d curled on her side, hair spilling across the pillow, the frown between her brows softening into something vulnerable.
Vulnerable but not weak. He’d seen the steel in her eyes, and heard the razor-sharp intelligence in her words.
She was digging into Marek Zajac with a recklessness that could get her killed in half a dozen ways.
And even after she’d been warned, she’d still pushed forward.
Determined. Fearless. Or maybe too damn stubborn to recognize danger when it closed in.
He respected it. Almost admired it. Almost.
But admiration had no place here. His orders were clear.
Keep her alive until Zajac returned to Budapest. Then the mission shifted.
Elise wasn’t supposed to know that part, and she never would.
She thought he was just security, another pile of hired muscle sent to trail her steps.
That was fine. Let her keep believing it.
As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, brushing pale gold across the room, he stood, rolling his shoulders, eyes scanning once more. The caution was habitual and precise. No disturbances. No watchers in the street. No telltale signs of surveillance inside.
Behind him, Elise stirred. He heard the shift of sheets, the soft sound of her sigh as she turned over. Awake, but not ready to admit it yet.
“You’ll wear a hole in the carpet if you keep pacing,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Blake glanced over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Good morning to you, too.”
Her eyes cracked open, green and sharp, even with sleep still clinging to them. “You’re still here.”
“I said I would be.”
She pushed herself upright, hair mussed, expression unimpressed. “Most men don’t mean it when they say things like that.”
“I’m not most men.”
She studied him then, as though testing the edges of that statement, weighing whether to push back or let it stand. He met her gaze steadily, refusing to flinch under the scrutiny.
Finally, she huffed, reaching for the stack of papers on the desk beside the bed. “Fine. If you’re so determined to play watchdog, you’d better keep up. Because today I’m getting into the Antwerp shipping manifests. And if I’m right, Zajac’s halo is going to start slipping.”
Blake suppressed the urge to curse. She wasn’t slowing down.
But he’d damn well try.
Elise threw the covers back with a sigh, padding across the room toward her suitcase. Blake turned away out of habit, giving her the privacy she probably expected, but he didn’t miss the roll of her eyes in the reflection of the window.
“You know,” she said, rummaging through her bag, “most women would be horrified to find a man watching them sleep.”
“I wasn’t watching,” he replied evenly.
“Oh, right. You were … what? Meditating with your eyes open? Cataloging threats only you can see?” She tugged a blouse free from the suitcase, shaking it out.
“Something like that.”
Glancing over her shoulder at him, her sharp green eyes narrowed at him. “You really don’t give much away, do you?”
“Not in my job description.”
“And what is your job description, exactly?” she pressed. “Besides looming in hotel rooms and correcting people’s assumptions?”
He let the corner of his mouth twitch, just enough to count as a smile. “Keeping you alive, apparently.”
She snorted before retreating into the bathroom. The sound of water running filled the room, followed by the rustle of fabric. Blake used the time to recheck the locks, the hall, the street below. He clicked his earpiece off mute.
“Good morning, Blake,” his aunt said over the comms. “I hear you’ve become a personal security officer. Why the career change?”
The water was running, so he didn’t fear Elise hearing him. “The orders were to scare her off and keep her alive. She isn’t the type to scare. Think Aunt Jade.”
“Oh, gotcha.” His aunt chuckled. “So, you’re basically holding on for dear life and wondering where the ride stops.”
“Exactly.” He had greater respect for his Uncle Nic now. God only knew how he’d dealt with such a strong-minded woman for all those years.
“Nic’s a saint,” Jewell said as if reading his mind. “So, she’s digging again?”
“Yep.”
Jewell sighed. “All right, I’ll keep her out of the line of fire. What did étienne know that we don’t?”
“I’m not sure … yet. You’ll hear in real time today. If you have specific questions, let me know, and I’ll relay them.”
“Going back to the library?”
“I assume so. Any word on Zajac’s travel?”
“Still holding to his time patterns according to the last briefing. That was … four hours ago. What are you going to do when it’s time to go to work?”
“Duct tape her to a chair and lock her in a room so she can’t get in any trouble.” He chuckled a bit. “Don’t tell Anubis.”
“Why would I tell him?”
“Long story.”
“Okay, just so you know, I don’t advocate duct tape for any reason when it comes to personal restraints. Might I suggest telling her it could kill not only her but also you if she made a move?”
“Won’t work. She doesn’t care about mortality. She’s all about justice right now.” Blake had no doubt about that. She was after the truth, and anything less than that was unacceptable.
“I get that. Seems to be pervasive in this family.”
“Agreed. I need to watch her for the next three weeks, do my job, and then I’ll disappear.”
Jewell made a noise of agreement, then said, “Okay, well, do me a favor and keep her busy for about an hour. She prevented me from doing some work yesterday that I’d like to take care of.”
“You got it. Could you have my luggage sent to her hotel room?” He needed a change of clothes and a shower, but that could wait until they were done for the day. He rolled down his sleeves and ran the cufflinks through the holes at the wrists.
“Better yet, let me book you into a safer hotel with multiple exits and a stairwell that hasn’t been condemned twice. I’ll send the information to your phone and have both of your possessions taken to the room.”
“Thank you.” The water turned off. “Time for me to go silent.”