Chapter 4
chapter
four
Mitchell
I thumb my phone at a red light, checking it out of habit more than expectation. Still nothing from Mike. He’s probably buried in meetings. He always is. I suppose there’s nothing really for him to say to my message that I had her, she was safe and we were on our way.
I keep my eyes on the road, in a futile effort to ignore her. But she’s already everywhere.
My truck is beginning to smell like her.
A sweet and gentle scent that reminds me of citrus and freshly baked bread.
The memory of the way her hips filled my palms as if they’d be sculpted to fit perfectly.
The lyrical echo of her voice when she’d said our marriage like it was already real.
Her accent is similar to one you’d hear in a wealthy pocket of London.
And I’d be a damned liar if I said I didn’t love it.
The way her impossibly blue eyes widened when I told her the truth, the way they’d gone from bright excitement to shuttered embarrassment in half a second flat.
Christ.
When I agreed to do this favor, I’d never considered I’d be attracted to her. I hadn’t actually thought about her at all. This morning she’d been a favor for my brother.
But now she’s a person. A woman. Soft and lush in a way a woman should be. All curves and warmth and expressions, she doesn’t know how to hide. The kind of woman who looks like she belongs snuggled in your arms on a comfortable sofa instead of a restricted, posh palace.
Those eyes.
Fuck.
Too big. Too blue. Too honest.
I’ve spent my career reading people—watching hands, posture, micro-expressions. I know fear when I see it. I know lies. I know when someone’s pretending to be braver than they feel.
What I saw in her wasn’t calculation. No manipulation or feigned seduction. No, it had been nothing more than hope.
Hope that the man holding her suitcase might also be the man who gets to keep her.
My jaw tightens.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Mike—the brother who treats marriage like a business merger—is the one she belongs to. The one who swore he’d never settle down, never get tied to anyone who might need more than he can give.
And me?
I’ve always been the one who believes in vows. In staying. In choosing the same person every day, even when it’s hard. I even got close once, but that turned out to be a facade. Even that didn’t turn me off of marriage.
I risk a glance at her now. She’s staring out the window, fingers laced together in her lap, posture perfect despite everything. Still a princess. Still composed.
Still devastatingly beautiful.
I swallow and turn my attention back to the highway.
This is my job. She is a job. Nothing more than a job.
My assignment is simple. Get her there. Keep her safe. And keep my fucking hands off of her.
It’s an assignment I’ve had a dozen times. Protect the asset. I’ve never wavered even once.
So it should be easy.
Except nothing about Evelyn Barlow feels easy anymore.
And the most dangerous part?
For just a few minutes back there, she’d looked at me like I was already hers.