Chapter 5
Shaw
I don’t understand why the fuck I’m so mad. I have no reason to be. I’m being paid to protect her, not claim her. But damn, after our kiss this morning, I really thought we were on the same page.
Growing up, I never considered myself a romantic.
Hell, even as an adult, I haven't been. At least, I don't think I have. I’m not some player looking to fuck every girl I see, but with Monroe, something is certainly different.
From the way she communicates with Mari, to the way she ponders over every word she says.
Monroe is methodical, yet na?ve. She’s vulnerable, yet worldly. A complete contrast to what I thought someone with her background would be. Her fragility lines every bone in her body, and I’m drawn to it in a way that makes me possessive of her.
When I took this job, I didn’t think I’d spend more than five minutes talking to her, and now, I find I can’t spend more than five minutes not thinking about her.
Needing to clear my head, I pull out her file and open the emails from Draven containing the background checks, and the more I learn, the more I lean towards it being her mother.
It has been two years since the stalking started—around the time Monroe would have turned eighteen—making her a legal adult.
It was light-hearted at first. Flowers and love notes left on the door of her hotel room.
Always anonymous. Never reported to the police because Helen insisted it was all harmless.
A little while after Monroe refused to commit to the Miss Universe pageant, a year ago, is when things escalated.
And if I had to guess, that’s when she expressed her wish to leave pageant life.
She likely spoke to her mother about retiring and using her winnings to settle down, figure out her life.
But little does Monroe know, her mother burned through those savings almost as quickly as she would win it.
My girl… shit …has been used and exploited in some of the worst ways.
After the last threat, a note stating that Monroe had better give herself over to her admirer or risk kidnapping, is when Claire insisted on calling Banks Protection Security at Lorie’s referral. Which points me back to Helen as the perpetrator.
Picking up the phone, I give Draven a call. “Hey man, how’s it going?” he answers.
“Monroe is different,” I respond, blowing out a breath.
“I’m not surprised. She hardly spoke two words to me yesterday, and when she would, that mother of hers would talk right over her. You got my emails, I take it?”
“Yeah. Look, the more I check into this, the more I believe the mother is behind it all. And Claire is the one who insisted on hiring us.”
“Makes sense. What do you need me to do?”
“Can you look further into Helen’s background? Military deep-dive. See if you find anything about Monroe’s father too. Maybe he has information we can’t dig up.” I find it hard to believe that a father could just abandon his daughter so effortlessly.
“I can do that. Anything else?” He waits as I stare out the window at the girl quickly taking over my life.
“Honestly, man, I’m not sure. I caught her this morning slicing her cheek open with a small pair of scissors.” That still bothers me.
“What the fuck?”
“She said, nobody would want her if she wasn’t pretty,” I tell him, and I fucking get it. She’s been a piece of meat almost her entire life.
“Jesus Christ. She needs anything, Shaw, say the word, and we’ll help however we can.” His incredulity matches mine.
“Thanks. I’m going to go talk with her, see if she can shed some light on these messages.
If I can get her away from that damn cow of mine.
” Draven chuckles as he hangs up the phone.
Nobody understands why I saved the mammoth.
I can’t do anything with her, and she’s noisy as hell, but I’ve grown fond of the beast.
Picking up the files with the copies of the notes, threats, and images I’m willing to bet Monroe has no idea were taken, I head outside. Pleased when I pass through the kitchen to see she ate something this morning, at least.
Stepping onto the porch, Monroe is sitting on the ground facing Marilyn and faintly humming. How fucking odd that they share the same damn name. When I gave it to Mari, it was only because there’d been a tabloid about Marilyn Monroe in the gas station that I stopped at on the way home that day.
Fate. I can hear my mom’s voice whispering through my mind. The crazy old bird would tell me it is written in the stars that Monroe and I share such an odd commonality.
Maybe she’d be right, maybe she’d be wrong.
I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of it once she learns about Monroe.
“Hey,” I call softly, and both of them turn to look at me. Monroe spins around on her ass, leaning against the post, giving me her complete attention. “You up for some questions?” She shrugs.
Sitting in front of her, I lift her legs and drape them over mine. I don’t like the idea of being so close and not touching her. Even in a simply innocent way.
“I’m sorry I stormed off this morning.” She looks up at me, her face a mask of indifference.
If not for the flicker in her gaze, I’d think she doesn’t care one way or the other.
“I spent a lot of years fighting for our country's freedom. Learning that someone I care about has endured a lifetime of dictation isn’t an easy pill to swallow.”
She nods again. And I have to force back my anger.
Not at her, but at why she behaves this way.
“Tell me something, Monroe.”
“Tell you what?” Her eyes lift as her fingers play with the blades of grass next to her hips.
“Anything you want.” I need to get her to open up to me, and so far, she’s been harder to crack than any safe I’ve heard of.
Braving a quick look over her shoulder, she whispers, “I like your cow.”
Huffing a short laugh, I say, “Yeah, I figured that out. What else?”
“I really wanted to eat that bacon this morning.” Her chin wobbles, and I want to pull her into my chest, but I get the feeling she’ll clam up again if I do.
“Why didn’t you?” I ask her instead, already knowing I’m going to hate the damn answer.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth before saying to me, “I could hear my mother in my head, yelling about how fat I would get. I could feel the beating she gave me when I was nine and gained ten pounds. I could feel the dizziness of so many days being starved because I would look at a pastry.”
My throat is thick with volatile emotion as Monroe confesses to her imprisonment. Because that’s exactly what her life has become. Prison.
Curling my fingers along her jaw, I tilt her head, growing angrier by the minute as I see her struggling to keep tears from falling. Likely terrified of another reprimand.
“Baby, listen to me.” Her glossy gaze meets mine. “This is your life. You are free to do as you wish, and so long as you’re here, I will protect you from anyone that tries to stop you.” I know she won’t believe me at this point. It’ll take time. Something I have plenty of.
* * *
Monroe
I’m suffocating. My whole life, I’ve been forced into a box filled with rules and expectations, and when they weren’t adhered to, punishment ensued.
I’ve never shared the instances of beatings and starvation with anyone.
None of it. And now that they're out there, I can’t take them back, and I feel like I can’t breathe again.
My tragic life has been exposed, and all the dirty secrets I’ve kept hidden from the world will come to light.
I can feel myself hyperventilating. The constrictor that is so often around my throat is tightening with every new breath I take.
Shaw drags me into his lap as I claw at my neck, trying to free myself from the invisible force stealing the air from my lungs.
“Hey, hey, you have to calm down, Monroe. Concentrate on my voice, listen to my heartbeat. Close your eyes and count.” His hand presses my head to his chest, and the thudding beat of his robust heart rhythm forces me to focus on something else.
Slowly, I begin to feel myself breathing in sync with his inhalations. With each breath comes a steady thump of his heart, and I’m finally under control again. Panic attack averted but embarrassment, full steam ahead.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, darlin’.”
Closing my eyes, I relax into Shaw’s hold. Accepting that he won’t let anything bad happen to me is easy. Trusting in the knowledge that I can be myself, explore who I am, is harder.
“I’m going to ask you something, Monroe. I only want you to answer if you can be completely honest with me.”
I tilt my head up to look at him; his heartbeat is still keeping me calm as I nod.
“If given the choice to break free of your life in California, would you want that? To start over somewhere new, where everything is completely of your choosing?” The steadfast look in his gaze says he’ll make it happen if I say yes.
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on my breathing before I respond, “Yes.” Because that’s precisely what I want.
I would rather not return home. I’m not a Barbie, and I’m tired of that life.
I have been for years. But every time I tried to express my displeasure, I was punished.
Then this stalker showed up, and over the last year, the threats have gotten worse, and I haven't had much choice.
Shaw’s mouth brushes a kiss along my head, and I’m reminded of the way he made me feel this morning. The way my body buzzed with anticipation. A feeling I never thought I’d experience again. One I want to repeat over and over. With him.
“You’re safe here, Monroe.” His fingers tilt my chin up, and before I can open my eyes, I feel his lips on mine again, and everything floats away. The worry and panic are gone, replaced with lust and desire.
For the first time in my life, I want to explore my body with a man. I want to find out what the big deal is that makes all the girls lose their minds over boys.
The trouble with Shaw is, he’s more liable to steal my heart.