2. Theo
2
THEO
I growl inwardly as I see Grace’s reaction to the pictures on her phone.
This man was in her home and took pictures of her while she was sleeping…the thought of that causes rage to boil up.
I’m gripping the silverware in my hand so tightly that it might bend. I take a deep breath and look around.
I’m overprotective by nature, but even this is a bit much. She made it clear that she didn’t trust me and didn't want to be with me.
We spent one weekend together, and she clearly didn’t feel the same way I did then. If she had, she would have listened to me or at least given me a chance to explain. But she refused.
Why do I still feel the need to protect her?
“Grace, let’s go to the restroom really fast,” Sarah offers as she stands quickly.
Grace’s porcelain face is stark white and riddled with fear. She can barely move. It’s almost as if she’s in another world. Her hand lightly grips my pants leg.
I hadn’t even noticed.
Sarah touches her arm, and Grace practically jumps out of her skin.
“Let’s go to the restroom really fast,” Sarah repeats.
Grace nods as she stands, and the two of them disappear quickly.
“She’s not staying with me,” I hiss as soon as they’re gone.
I can feel my blood pressure rising. I know where this is headed, and I don’t like it one bit.
I’ve been down this road before and will never go again.
“You looked awfully cozy with her five seconds ago.”
Fucker. Of course, he would notice that.
“I was trying to keep her out of the view of these vultures trying to catch her off guard,” I lie in exasperation. “She isn’t staying with me. I won’t allow it.”
“Grace can’t go back to her place right now. It’s not safe.”
My jaw tightens. “That’s not my problem.”
“It is now,” he says, crossing his arms and staring me down. “She has nowhere else to go. Nowhere is safe if he got into her house.”
“I’ll repeat it; that’s not my problem.”
“You owe me.”
I let out a harsh laugh, shaking my head. “I owe you? This is your way of cashing in a favor? By dumping her on me? Have you lost your mind?”
He sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s the one under stress.
“You know this isn’t just about you. Grace is in danger. I’ve tried everything, restraining orders, security, but the police won’t do a damn thing because he hasn’t gotten physical.
She’s scared, and I can’t just leave her out there with no protection. Your house is in the middle of nowhere and an absolute fortress.”
“Find her a hotel. Hell, rent her a whole floor if you have to. But she’s not coming to my house,” I snap.
His voice tightens, and I can tell he’s losing patience, but I don’t care. I’m not going through this again.
“You know as well as I do that a hotel isn’t safe enough. She needs to be somewhere where no one can get to her, somewhere they wouldn’t even think to look. That’s your place, Theo.”
I glare at him. “My place is off-limits, Devon. I don’t let anyone in there. Not after Alexia. You know that.”
He lets out a long breath, leaning forward, lowering his voice like we’re discussing some grand secret.
“I know. But this is different. Grace needs protection, and right now, you’re the only one who can give it to her. You’re the only person I trust.”
The bastard would have to throw that trust thing in there, wouldn’t he? Damn him for knowing how to get to me.
I shake my head, turning away from him to stare out at the dance floor. The city lights glisten in the distance, a perfect backdrop to all the people living their best lives.
Maybe I should punch my best friend in the face hard enough to make him forget this crazy idea.
“I’m not getting involved.”
“You’re already involved, Theo. Grace needs a place to stay, and you’re going to give it to her.”
“You’re not in any place to make demands of me.”
“I saved your ass with all the stuff with Alexia, and you know it. I normally wouldn’t call in a favor like this, you know that. It’s just…she’s not safe anywhere else, and I know she will be with you.”
“What happens when it all blows up in my face?
What happens when people find out she’s staying with me?
Do you think the press won’t have a field day with that?
Do you think they won’t twist it into something ugly?
I’m barely keeping my career afloat as it is.”
Devon crosses his arms.
“Or it could fix your reputation.
You and Grace together would be a power couple, the press picks up on that, and suddenly you’re not the asshole they’ve all made you out to be.
You know that whole thing with Alexia hurt you, but this could turn things around.”
“This isn’t about fixing my reputation. This is about you dragging me into your mess.”
“No, it’s not. I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other choice.
This guy... he’s really good at what he does. You know how many stalkers and psychos I’ve dealt with over the years, in my life and in this line of work. You know I can handle them.
But this guy? I can’t even get a whiff of him.
This is Grace’s life we’re talking about. She has nowhere else to go. I’m her manager—it's my job to keep her safe.”
Devon is a former Marine Reconnaissance man who is incredibly skilled in surveillance and protection. If he can’t find this man, that’s a problem.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “Why should I care?
“He reminds me of Ricky Genovia,” he hisses as his voice dips low.
I suck in a breath at the mention of our former classmate. My cousin had dated him briefly, they broke up and within days, she had gone missing.
Two other girls went missing over the next three months. All three females were found dead years later, buried in Ricky’s backyard.
No one would have believed the high school quarterback was capable of such atrocities, but somehow, the police had figured it out and had solid proof.
“It still doesn’t…”
“Bullshit, I know you better than anyone, Theo.
I know that you’re not the misogynistic pig they made you out to be.
You’re the only person I trust, and I know you won’t let anything happen to her.”
“How do you know that?”
He chuckles drily, shaking his head and smiling back at me.
“I saw the way you looked at her, Theo.
I saw how you immediately protected her.
Your silverware there,” he chuckles again as he nods to them, “is almost bent in half.”
“It was like that.”
“No, it wasn’t.
You feel something for her instinctively.
I knew the minute she became my client, you two would hit it off, and I was right.
The protective grizzly bear came out the second she seemed distressed.”
Fuck him for noticing that.
I stare at him, wanting to wring his neck while also feeling the heaviness of his words. “And what if it all goes to hell? What if this stalker doesn’t stop?”
Devon shakes his head. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But right now, she needs you.”
She needs you.
Why does this asshole always know what to say to get me to do whatever he wants? He’s always been like this—a natural-born salesman.
Silence stretches between us, and I can feel my resolve weakening.
Damn it.
“I don’t like this,” I mutter, turning back to the window. “I don’t like this one bit.”
“You don’t have to like it,” he laughs drily. “You just have to do it. Please. I don’t enjoy pushing this boundary, but I’m out of options.”
I sigh, pressing my hands against the table to calm the anger and irritation inside me. The idea of letting someone into my space makes my skin crawl. But Devon’s not going to let this go, and deep down, I know he’s right.
Grace Simmons is a loud-mouthed know-it-all who knows nothing. She runs her mouth in the heat of the moment without learning the truth and she never takes responsibility for her actions either.
This is going to blow up in all of our faces.
I turn to him, my voice low and filled with warning. “Fine. But the second this turns into a shitstorm, I’m out. Do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
Just as he says that I hear footsteps approaching and see Sarah leading Grace back into the room. Grace still looks pale, her eyes wide with fear. She glances at me, and for a split second, something inside me shifts.
Damn it.
I’ve always been overprotective, but after everything with Alexia happened, I shoved that part of me way down.
Too many people like to take advantage of kind, caring men.
She’s a gorgeous woman, and it’s hard not to notice her soft curves and the confident way she carries herself. She is made for the red dress she’s wearing.
Her long black hair falls in waves down her back, and her deep brown eyes make you want to stare into them for hours.
It’s hard not to remember how she moans my name.
Get your mind out of that area, Theo. You cannot see this woman as anything other than an unwanted guest in your house. You can’t risk letting your guard down again.
The hum of the engine fills the car as we drive in silence a few hours later. Grace sits beside me, staring out the window, her arms crossed in front of her chest as if protecting herself from someone.
Is she scared of me?
Good, she should be.
She hasn’t said much since we left the event; frankly, I’m not in the mood to make small talk.
My driver, Marcus, navigates the winding roads with precision, his eyes fixed on the pavement ahead. The city lights fade behind us, replaced by the quiet expanse of the countryside.
I glance over at Grace. Her posture is stiff, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on her arm.
“Almost there,” Marcus says, breaking the silence.
“You moved?” she asks softly.
“I had to. Alexia destroyed my house.”
She doesn’t respond and continues to stare out the window. We’re approaching the gates now, the large wrought-iron monstrosities I had installed when I purchased a new home after the Alexia debacle.
Imposing and impenetrable, they stand as a reminder that no one gets through unless I say so.
The car slows as we reach the entrance. Marcus rolls down his window, swiping a card through the reader. The gates groan as they swing open, revealing the long, tree-lined driveway that leads to my estate.
The high stone walls surrounding the property keep it hidden from view, adding another layer of security. My home is my fortress, designed to keep everyone out.
“This is a bit much, don’t you think?” she questions with a dirty look. “Flaunting your money.”
“I like my privacy. And want to keep people out.”
“You mean, you don’t want people to see the real you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Maybe if you kept people out, your stalker wouldn’t have been in your house,” I hiss back at her.
Her eyes widen as she pulls back a little. “I have the best security system there is.”
“Clearly not,” I scoff. “Now you need me to rescue you.”
“Don’t you worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
She shifts beside me as we drive through, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the sprawling grounds.
The perfectly manicured lawns stretch out on either side of the driveway, and in the distance, the house rises up like something out of a movie.
It’s grand, to say the least, a modern architectural marvel with clean lines and expansive glass windows, all set against the backdrop of the rolling countryside.
When we finally pull up in front of the house, Marcus stops the car, and I climb out, my shoes crunching against the gravel. I reach back in and offer my hand to Grace, watching as she hesitates before stepping out.
“Come on,” I say, a little harsher than I mean to. “Let’s get inside.”
She follows me up the steps, her eyes darting around, taking in the sheer size of the place. I punch in the code on the security panel by the front door, and the locks disengage with a soft click. The door swings open, and we step inside.
The interior is sleek and modern, with high ceilings and open spaces. Marble floors stretch out beneath us, and the soft glow of recessed lighting highlights the minimalist decor.
I don’t keep much in the way of personal belongings out here; everything is neatly tucked away, out of sight. That’s how I like it: clean and controlled.
“Wow,” Grace breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.
I ignore her and head toward the kitchen, needing to put some space between us. I pour myself a glass of water and take a long sip, trying to calm the frustration bubbling up inside me.
Being this close to her is unnerving. Her scent is intoxicating, and I can’t help but wonder how she tastes .
Keep your distance. She’s off-limits in all ways. This is only temporary.
“Devon said he’ll bring your things tomorrow,” I growl, setting the glass down on the counter. “But for tonight, I’ll find you something to wear.”
“I can sleep in this.”
She frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as she gestures toward the long sequined dress she’s wearing.
“You’re not sleeping in that. It’s uncomfortable, and I’m not dealing with you complaining about it later.”
“I wouldn’t complain,” she mutters under her breath.
I narrow my eyes at her. “Just… wait here.”
I leave the kitchen, heading upstairs to my room. Opening one of the drawers, I pull out an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts. They’ll be too big for her, but they’ll do. I head back downstairs.
“Here,” I say, holding out the clothes. “This should work for tonight.”
She eyes the T-shirt and shorts like I’ve handed her a dead fish. “I don’t need your pity, Mr. Rossi.”
Mr. Rossi? I’ve been inside of her, and she’s being so formal?
“Pity?” I let out a short laugh. “Trust me, this isn’t pity. It’s practicality. You’re not going to sleep in that ridiculous dress.”
I’m being overly rude to her and don’t like it.
I used to be fun and easygoing until Alexia got to me. Then Grace believed Alexia’s lies and ditched me.
It doesn’t help that all I can think about is kissing her.
She glares at me but eventually snatches the clothes from my hand.
“Fine. I typically don’t sleep in anything, but this is better than walking around in this dress and these heels.”
An unwanted image of her walking around my house completely naked flashes before my eyes. I clear my throat and turn around so she can’t see the bulge in my pants thickening.
“Bathroom’s upstairs on the left,” I say, pointing toward the staircase.
Without another word, she walks off, her heels clicking against the marble floor. I watch her go, trying to shake the strange mix of irritation and… attraction.
It’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone into my space, and having Grace here feels like an invasion.
But it also feels nice to have her here.
I pace the kitchen, trying to shake off the unease. It’s just for a few nights, I tell myself. She’ll be gone soon enough.
I can go a few days without letting her in to see the real me again. I just have to keep up this grumpy beast act up a little longer.
A few minutes later, I hear her footsteps on the stairs. I glance up and freeze. She is standing there, wearing my T-shirt and shorts.
The clothes hang off her petite frame, and her hair is pulled up into a messy bun. Her face is clean of makeup, and her skin glows in the soft light. My heart stumbles in my chest.
Damn it.
“Stop staring,” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest again as if she can shield herself from my gaze.
I tear my eyes away, my jaw tightening. “I’m not staring.”
“Yes, you are,” she says, her tone defensive. “And it’s creepy.”
“Believe me, I’ve got better things to look at,” I shoot back.
What a stupid thing to say. Am I five?
She rolls her eyes and turns toward the living room. “Whatever. Just tell me where I’m sleeping.”
I follow her, my footsteps heavy on the marble floor. “There’s a guest room upstairs. You’ll be fine there for the night. You have an attached bathroom, as well.”
“Great,” she mutters, not bothering to hide her irritation.
Why does she hate me so much? She’s the one who abandoned me. She’s the one who left without letting me explain, without even trying to listen and understand the situation.
I lead her to the guest room, push the door open, and step aside to let her in. “My security system is top-notch. No one gets in or out without me knowing.”
“Thanks,” she says quietly, ducking her head and walking the rest of the way into the room
I hesitate for a moment, watching her as she moves toward the bed. Her fingers trail over the mahogany furniture as she eyes it all admiringly. She goes to the four-poster bed, looking up at it in awe.
Something about her childlike wonder of the furniture and her manner of holding herself tugs at something inside me. But I push the feeling down, burying it beneath the layers of frustration and annoyance.
“Get some rest,” I say gruffly. “There’s an intercom system here on the wall that goes directly to my staff. We’ll figure things out tomorrow.”
She doesn’t respond; she just sits down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. I linger for a moment longer, wanting to say something so she knows I’m not a complete asshole.
Nothing comes to mind, so I turn and walk out, closing the door behind me.
As I make my way back downstairs, the tension in my chest refuses to ease. Having Grace here is messing with my head. I don’t want her in my home, invading my space, stirring up memories I’d rather forget.
But Devon’s right. I owe him. And for now, this is how I pay him back.
You didn’t just do this for Devon.
You still have feelings for her, and you want to protect her.
I can’t shake the feeling that this is only the beginning of something much more complicated. Something I’m not sure I’m ready for.