Chapter 2 JADE
JADE
"Well, that's one thing you won't have to worry about because I'm definitely not hiring you!"
I keep my voice cool and my expression impassive as the three men in my living room turn to face me.
The familiar mask settles into place: chin slightly raised, eyes unblinking, shoulders back.
The same composure I've perfected since I was twelve years old, standing before cameras that captured everything but the truth.
The one who was just talking, Mateo, I think Gloria called him, has the decency to look embarrassed, his golden eyes widening and cheeks flushing. Good. He should be embarrassed.
I've spent my entire adult life being judged by people who think they know me based on tabloid garbage. I'm not about to let three strangers into my life who've already decided who I am before they've even met me.
I turn on my heel and walk away. His voice has already told me everything I need to know: disgust, condescension, that practiced smirk he probably uses on all his "difficult" clients.
"Miss Sinclair," the tallest one says, stepping forward with controlled movements that speak of military training. His intense blue eyes and authoritative presence mark him as the one in charge. "I apologize for my colleague's comments."
"Don't," I respond, keeping my tone flat. "I'd rather know exactly what I'm dealing with."
Gloria rises from her seat, moving toward me with that concerned expression I've come to know too well, the one that says she's about to push for something I don't want.
"Jade, please. I know you don't want security, but after what happened in New York..."
"I told you I'm fine," I cut her off, folding my arms across my chest. "It was just some random... incident. We don't even know what really happened. Maybe I was mistaken for someone else."
The words sound hollow even to my own ears.
I feel all eyes on me now, and I hate it. On the runway or in front of a camera, I know exactly who to be, what face to show. Here, in my home, in loungewear with no makeup, I feel exposed.
"Do you really think you could be mistaken for someone else?" the third man asks.
His voice is deep, almost startlingly so, coming from his massive frame. A jagged scar runs down one side of his face, drawing immediate attention. He watches me with muted intensity, the kind of person who notices everything but reveals nothing.
I press my lips together, unwilling to discuss it, but Gloria answers for me.
"You know better than that, Jade. When someone strikes you in the head and leaves you unconscious to drown, it's personal."
The memory flashes unbidden: the cool water of the hotel pool, the sudden, searing pain at the base of my skull, the disorienting sensation of sinking, lungs burning. If another hotel guest hadn't entered the swimming pool at that exact moment and spotted me struggling in the water…
I push the thought away quickly. "I was careless," I say dismissively. "One incident doesn't justify hiring a private army."
"It won't happen again because you'll have protection," Gloria insists, the usual firmness in her tone. "And not just any protection. Cross Security came highly recommended."
"By whom?" I can't keep the hurt from my voice. "You didn't even tell me you were looking for security, let alone inviting strange men into my home to insult me."
The leader, Cross, I assume, steps forward again. "Miss Sinclair, regardless of whether you hire us, you should consider professional security. If someone deliberately targeted you…"
"The last security team I had, spent more time leaking my schedule to paparazzi than actually protecting me," I interrupt. "No offense, but I'm sure I can find bodyguards who don't already dislike me based on gossip columns."
Mateo takes a step toward me, his expression now contrite. "Look," he says, hands raised, voice all smooth edges, "about earlier, I didn't mean it like that."
"You didn't mean to say I was a drugged-up diva who brings this all on herself?" My tone cuts like a razor.
He blinks once, his smile flickering. "Okay. Maybe I meant it a little. But in my defense, I thought you weren't in the room."
My laugh rings sharp and hollow. "That's your defense? That you only trash your clients behind their backs? Charming."
"I'm just saying, maybe we got off on the wrong foot."
"I don't care what foot we got off on. What I want is your feet walking away from my house." I turn back to Gloria, ignoring him completely. "Thank you for your concern, but I don't need them. I'll be more careful."
Gloria's expression shifts from concern to something more serious. "Jade, there's more you need to know." She glances uncomfortably at the three men. "Perhaps we should discuss this privately."
"Ms. Hayes," Cross interjects calmly, "whatever you've been holding back, please share it. We can only protect her with complete information."
"That won't be necessary!" My voice rises despite my best efforts. "Haven't I made myself clear? Why are you three still standing in my living room? Please leave!"
Gloria hesitates, then takes a deep breath. "The attack in New York wasn't isolated, Jade. There have been other... incidents."
I freeze. "What incidents?"
"Someone has been leaving things for you. At photoshoot locations, at the hotel in Milan last month, at the gate of this house..." Her voice trails off.
"What things? Why didn't you tell me?" My heart races, the calm facade I maintain cracking at the edges.
"I thought I could protect you." Gloria looks down at her hands. "They started as wilted flowers, then notes. At first, I thought it was just an enthusiastic fan, but they've been getting more personal. More... threatening."
The room suddenly feels too warm. "How personal?"
Gloria reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small envelope. "This arrived at the agency yesterday, addressed to you."
I take it with trembling fingers. Inside is a simple white card with elegant handwriting: "Missing you, Little Doll. I'm coming for you."
The blood drains from my face. My knees weaken, and I sink onto the nearest chair, the card falling from my suddenly nerveless fingers.
"Little Doll," I whisper, the nickname hitting me like a physical blow.
Memories I've spent years burying come rushing back: a hand on my shoulder that slowly moved lower, a voice telling me how special I was, how I was his little doll.
I was only fourteen when it started. At first, it seemed innocent enough, just affection and kindness. And I welcomed it, starving for attention and tenderness.
Gloria's at my side immediately, her hand on my shoulder. "I know," she whispers. "That's why I called them, Jade. That's why you need protection."
"It can't be him," I say in a hushed tone meant only for Gloria. "He's dead. We know he's dead."
"It's someone who knows," Gloria agrees quietly. "Someone who knows what he called you."
The reality of the situation sinks in slowly, like a stone through murky water.
Someone out there knows things about me that I've never spoken about publicly. There were only three people who knew about that nickname: me, Gloria, and him. And he is dead.
It feels like he's reached back from the grave, whispering through someone else's mouth.
I look up. The three men watch this exchange with varying degrees of confusion and concern. Declan, the one with the scar, picks up the card from where it fell and reads it, his expression darkening. He passes it to Cross without a word.
"Miss Sinclair," Cross says after reading it, his voice gentler but still professional, "I understand your reluctance to have security, but this suggests someone has gotten close to you. Close enough to harm you. The attack in New York could have been fatal. The next one might be."
"How dare you keep this from me?" I turn to Gloria, anger replacing fear. "These are threats against me, and you decided I didn't need to know? What else haven't you told me?"
Gloria looks stricken. "I was trying to protect you. After everything you've been through..."
"I'm not that little girl anymore!" I snap, rising to my feet. "I don't need to be sheltered from reality. I need to know what's happening in my own life!"
"Miss Sinclair," Cross interjects calmly, "your anger is understandable, but right now we need to focus on your safety."
I laugh bitterly. "My safety. Right."
I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. "Fine. What exactly do you propose?"
Cross glances at his colleagues before answering.
"Given the personal nature of these threats and the fact that someone has already made one attempt on your life, you need comprehensive protection.
That means security protocols, controlled access to your schedule and whereabouts, and round-the-clock presence. "
"I am not having three men following me everywhere," I state firmly. "I value what little privacy I have left."
"We understand that," Cross responds, "but there are compromises that can be made while still ensuring your safety."
Mateo, who's been quiet since his failed attempt at charm, speaks up. "We're professionals. Despite what you overheard, this is what we do. It's our job."
Declan finally speaks again. "We won't let anything happen to you."
It's a simple statement, delivered with such calm certainty that for a moment, I almost believe him.
I look at the three of them: the leader, the charmer, and the giant. I try to imagine them infiltrating every aspect of my carefully controlled life. The thought makes my skin crawl, but the card on the table makes it crawl more.
"Fine," I concede reluctantly. "But I have conditions. You stay out of my way as much as possible. I don't want to feel like I'm under surveillance in my own home. And I expect professionalism at all times."
This last bit I direct pointedly at Mateo, who has the grace to look sheepish.
"That's reasonable," Cross nods. "But for this to work, you'll need to keep us informed of your schedule and plans. No last-minute changes without letting us know."
"I can agree to that," I say stiffly.
"And one more thing," Cross adds, his mouth tightening like he hadn't expected to say it aloud. "Given the isolated location and multiple points of access, the most effective security arrangement would be for us to stay here."
"What?" I stare at him in disbelief. "You want to move in?"
"All of us," Cross confirms. "Twenty-four-seven coverage. It's the only way to ensure there are no gaps in your security."
I open my mouth to protest, but the weight of that card with its two simple words, Little Doll, silences me. For the first time in years, I feel truly afraid.
Cross seems to read the conflict on my face. "Miss Sinclair, this is what we do. This is our job, and we are very good at it. To do this right, we need to be here. All of us."
The finality in his voice sends a chill down my spine. I glance at Gloria, who nods almost imperceptibly, then at the other two men who seem as surprised by this declaration as I am.
"Fine," I say again, my voice barely above a whisper.