Naomi
This week has been an unrelenting whirlwind—all because I went to one damn party last weekend. Now, every pair of eyes is on me. I can’t even breathe without Jaxon or Cade on my tail.
Exactly what my brothers wanted. I’m trapped, boxed in so tightly I don’t think I’ve had a single moment alone—except when I’m hiding in my room. Between the four of them, my solitude is practically extinct.
Still, there’s one silver lining: my business picked up several new accounts—two international and four domestic—and my team and I are practically buzzing with excitement. It’s a rare piece of good news in a world that feels like it’s unraveling.
“Are you sure you want to go?” Aisha asks from her usual perch in the window nook, one leg dangling over the edge.
She’d shown up claiming she was here to help me get ready for my date with Christian. But instead, she’s spent the past hour texting Xay and shopping for outfits for some yacht party next weekend. Really helpful.
“Thanks for the assist, June,” I mutter under my breath, snapping the clasp on my heels.
By some miracle, I’m ready by the time Christian’s car pulls up. Of course, not without interference. June decided mid-prep that my curls are all wrong and that I need Fenty Body Sauce to look like I have been kissed by the divine. But all that matters is I’m on time. He hates to be late.
He steps out of the car with a megawatt smile, his pale blue eyes glimmering with excitement. His custom grey suit clings to his body in all the right ways, framing his athletic build with precision. His blond hair is slicked back.
So clean cut, so perfect.
A year apart has made me miss him, aching for his touch in ways I’d almost forgotten. As I take him in, a pang of guilt strikes me.
Christian is my world. I remind myself of this as his gaze sweeps over me, his smile widening, his expression one of pure admiration. It’s exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for. But then he stops, mid-stride, his smile faltering as his gaze shifts past me.
I don’t need to turn to see who he's looking at, or, better yet, what. My body feels the heat of his presence—Jaxon.
He stands a few steps higher on the staircase, those grey eyes trickling down my body, stealing all the air in my lungs. The light catches on his all-black YSL suit, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders. The sharp, angular lines of his jaw are shadowed, making my whole body warm.
God help me, but the man is the type of temptation that would make you sin first and ask questions later. More so now than the first time I saw him. I didn’t think perfection could evolve, but here he is, proving me wrong.
Maybe if I gouge my eyes out, I can pretend he doesn’t look like sin personified. However, the way his gaze burns into me, searing me to my core, tells me even blindness wouldn’t save me—I can pretend, but he sure as shit wouldn’t.
“Good evening, Ms. Blaine,” he says, his voice a velvet caress that brushes down my spine.
“Mr. Knox,” I reply, masking my unease with a carefully schooled expression of indifference. But Jaxon’s smirk tells me he sees right through it.
“Ahem.”
Christian’s sharp cough slices through the moment like a blade. Both Jaxon and I snap out of whatever the hell that was, turning our attention to him. Jaxon moves first, descending the stairs unhurried, stringing the tension tighter with every step.
“Good evening, Mr. Cavanaugh,” Jaxon greets him. He extends a hand to Christian, who clamps down on it with more force than necessary, his jaw tightening.
Jaxon doesn’t even blink. If anything, the slight quirk of his lips suggests amusement.
“I’ve been hired as Ms. Blaine’s personal security,” Jaxon continues, his voice smooth and professional, though his eyes still gleam with something darker. “To ensure her safety during all outings and events.”
Christian breaks the handshake first, his hand twitching as he steps back.“Is that so?” Christian sneers, his gaze slicing into Jaxon. “Well, she won’t be needing your services tonight.” He stretches a hand toward me, his stance unwavering, as if daring Jaxon to challenge him. “Come, Naomi.”
I step down the last two stairs and slip my hand into his, letting him pull me close. Christian doesn’t waste a second—his lips crash into mine, possessive and unrelenting. It’s a kiss meant to claim, to remind me who I belong to and to make damn sure Jaxon knows it too.
When he pulls away, I’m dazed, stumbling a little on my heels. His fiery gaze is trained on Jaxon, like he never stopped staring him down.
“You look stunning tonight,” he says, his voice softening. His smile returns as he pulls out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.
A swirl of sunflowers, burnt orange roses, and calla lilies greets me, their colors bright and warm like a sunrise. The sight makes my chest tighten and my lips curl into a shy smile, even as the air between the three of us buzzes with tension.
“Thank you, honey,” I murmur, trying to focus on the flowers instead of the heat radiating off Jaxon just a few feet away.
Christian’s smile widens, charming and carefree once more. “Let’s get out of here,” He winks, tilting his head toward his car.
But before I can move, Jaxon speaks.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh,” Jaxon says, voice smooth, unflinching. “Orders are orders. My employer made it clear—Ms. Blaine’s security protocols aren’t up for negotiation.”
Christian doesn’t even acknowledge him. He leads me to the Audi with a gentle hand on my lower back, opening the passenger door to help me settle in my seat.
“I’ll be just a second,” he says, flashing a grin that’s all edge and teeth—sharp enough to draw blood—as he closes the door.
From inside, I watch as he turns to Jaxon. His back is to me, but I can feel the weight of whatever he says in the way Jaxon’s expression shifts—his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with fury.
Christian saunters away, smug satisfaction written all over his face while Jaxon’s eyes burn a hole in the back of his head. As Christian settles into the driver’s seat, he casts me a hard glance, the tension between him and Jaxon still clinging to him.
The car is quiet for a beat too long before Christian finally speaks, his tone deceptively calm.
“Is there something you forgot to tell me, Ni?” he asks, his voice low and sweet, but his grip on the steering wheel is so brutal his knuckles go white.
“My brothers had the bright idea that I needed a babysitter,” I tell him, my sweaty palms gripping the sides of my seat, my nails etching my anxiety into the leather. “I’ve been having dreams again...so my family got nervous.”
His features soften slightly, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fade. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, his voice quieter now, threaded with concern.
“I didn’t want to bother you with something so silly while you were away,” I whisper, reaching for his hand.
He laces our fingers together, his grip grounding as he brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “I’m never too busy for you, Butterfly,” he murmurs.
Christian has always been my safe harbor for this—understanding, patient, and gentle with the pieces of my fractured past. Never prying, never pushing, and never forcing me to venture beyond the walls I wasn’t ready to tear down.
But tonight, he looks like he has a storm of his own brewing beneath the surface of his usual collected demeanor.
FOUR YEARS AGO
“I’m not staying in hostels! As a horror junkie, I don’t know why you’d even suggest that!” Aisha declares, sitting at my desk, scrolling through a list of hotels she’s deemed hot-girl approved.
“Have you ever seen the movie Taken? They snatched those girls right out of a luxury apartment.” I quip from my window nook, arching a perfectly manicured brow as I turn my laptop toward her. “What about this one?”
She tilts her head, giving my screen a side glance before her lip curls in absolute disdain. “Ew. Too pink,” she says, dismissing it without a second thought. Her attention immediately drifts back to trip planning. “At least she made it back home in one piece!”
I sigh, clicking the trash icon on the neon-pink bikini I’d found with way too many sequins.
“You haven’t liked a single one I’ve picked,” I sigh, snapping my laptop shut.
“And let’s be real, neither of our dads is Liam Neeson.
If we get snatched, we’re done for. Hell, the only reason I’m still here is because I ruined the fun by practically dying last time. ”
Aisha gives me a sharp side-eye, but the corners of her lips twitch. There’s a brief pause as we lock eyes, and then, as if on cue, we both burst into laughter. She’s the only one who gets my dark humor, the only person who won’t flinch when I joke about the shit I’ve been through.
Eventually, we compromise—booking hotels with both luxury and safety in mind. Because, as Aisha rightly points out, sharing a bathroom with strangers and listening to someone’s sex grunts through paper-thin walls would absolutely skeeve me out.
My lips go numb from all the liquor, but I don’t care—I keep moving, letting the bass ripple through me like a second heartbeat. This moment is all that matters. This is what it feels like to be alive.
It’s our second night in Berlin. A week from now, we’ll be in Milan. “Glam packing” through Europe—Aisha’s term for traveling light but refusing to skimp on luxury—was the best idea she ever had. No one knows who I am, and I don't have a damn care in the world.
I needed to get out of Cali, out from under my parents’ rules. I was tired of walking around as if I were dead, every day the same thing. Work, home, rinse, repeat.
My parents are scared for me, but I just want to be free, live out the rest of my twenties. I just needed to breathe. That monster took pieces of me, carved himself into my body, my mind, but I won’t allow him to take a single ounce more of my sanity.