Chapter 21 JADE
JADE
"Tilt your chin up just a bit more, darling."
I comply automatically with the makeup artist's gentle direction, my body responding from years of muscle memory while my mind wanders elsewhere. Her expert hands move around my face, dabbing concealer under my eyes to hide the evidence of my sleepless night.
Not that I didn't sleep on the plane. I did, more deeply than I had in years, cradled against Mateo's chest. The memory of last night coils around me like the cashmere blanket Mateo tucked around our legs.
The sound of his voice still lingers in my ears, low and rough with sleep.
The weight of his arm draped over my waist, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.
I didn't mean to fall asleep on him. I didn't mean for it to feel so. .. safe.
But it did. It felt like shelter.
Yet the few hours in my own bed afterward had been restless, haunted by golden eyes and the phantom sensation of lips against mine.
"You look tired, honey," Gloria murmurs, her voice pitched low, just for me. "Bali was stressful?"
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. "It had its moments."
Gloria arches a knowing brow as she hands me a water bottle with a straw. "Mmm-hmm. Let me guess, those moments had something to do with a certain bodyguard who couldn't seem to stop watching you like you were a high-value target... or a high-stakes temptation."
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I duck my head slightly. "You mean Mateo? It was tiring for him as well." I clear my throat, deflecting. "He's not on this shoot. Ethan and Declan are covering today."
"Is that disappointment I hear?" She grins.
"Close your eyes for me," the makeup artist requests. I obey, grateful for the momentary reprieve from Gloria's perceptive gaze. The soft sweep of the brush across my eyelids is soothing, familiar.
With my eyes closed, memories from the plane surge forward. Mateo's heartbeat beneath my ear. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The way his fingers had threaded through my hair, gentle and soothing. The heat of his kiss... God, that kiss. Raw and real and...
"Your pulse is racing," Gloria observes mildly. "Thinking about something nice?"
I open my eyes, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "It's complicated."
"The best things usually are."
I glance beyond her to where Ethan stands by the suite's entrance, his broad shoulders filling out his charcoal suit to perfection.
His blue eyes scan the room in a continuous sweep, hypervigilant as always.
When his gaze brushes over me, something flickers in his expression, something deep that I can't quite read.
My stomach does a treacherous little flip.
And there's the complication.
Because while I can still feel Mateo's lips on mine, I also can't deny the flutter that accompanies Ethan's intense stare.
Or the way my skin heats whenever Declan's massive presence looms nearby, currently radiating brooding silence from the corner where he's positioned himself, dark eyes glaring at anyone who ventures too close.
What is wrong with me?
I've spent years, my entire adult life, building walls, maintaining distance, protecting myself from precisely this kind of emotional entanglement.
And now here I am, developing feelings for not one but three men simultaneously.
Men who work for me. Men who are paid to protect me, not care about me.
"Whatever you're overthinking," the makeup artist says, breaking into my spiraling thoughts, "stop it. Your frown is going to crease my foundation."
I force a smile. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Just relax." She steps back, admiring her work. "Perfect. The hairdresser will be in to finish your hair in five, and then you're on."
"Everything seems under control here. I'll leave too. Meet you back at the house," Gloria says as she exits the room.
As she moves away, my gaze drifts back to Ethan. He's talking quietly into his comm device, probably checking in with the security team positioned throughout the hotel. His profile is sharp against the muted luxury of the suite, all clean lines and controlled power.
I missed him when I was in Bali. And Declan too.
The realization had hit me unexpectedly during a quiet moment at the resort, that I'd grown accustomed to their constant presence, to Ethan's quiet authority and Declan's watchful silence.
I missed feeling like the air around me crackled with something I couldn't name when we were all in the same room.
And then there's Mateo.
Mateo, with his teasing smile and steady hands. Who called me mi reina like he meant it, like I was something rare.
And now here I am, sitting under studio lights, wondering how I've started falling for three men who were never supposed to matter this much.
What does that say about me? Maybe I'm just lonely. Or maybe, for once, I'm letting myself want something real.
I don't know.
But what I do know is that my heart has started beating differently around them. And that I don't feel as alone when they're close.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
I startle at Ethan's voice beside me, not having noticed his approach. He's close enough that I can smell his cologne, something woodsy and clean that makes me want to lean closer.
"They're not worth that much," I deflect.
His eyes, impossibly blue in the bright makeup lights, search mine. "Mateo mentioned there was an incident on the plane."
Of course he did. They report everything to each other. Which means Ethan probably knows about the flight attendant with the camera but hopefully nothing about what came after. The thought of Mateo sharing that moment makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
"Nothing serious," I say carefully. "Just someone hoping for a candid shot to sell."
Ethan's jaw tightens. "That seems to be happening with increasing frequency."
Before I can respond, the hairdresser appears with her arsenal of hair products, and Ethan steps back. "We'll talk more later," he says, returning to his post.
The next hours pass in a familiar blur of lights, poses, and directions from the photographer.
The fragrance campaign requires a sophisticated glamour.
Evening gown, dramatic makeup, an air of unattainable luxury.
It's easy work, the kind I could do in my sleep, which leaves my mind free to wander back to dangerous territory.
What am I doing? What do I want?
The questions circle endlessly as I move through the shoot, turning this way and that, responding to the photographer's cues while maintaining constant awareness of where Ethan and Declan are positioned in the room.
By the time we wrap, the sun has set outside the suite's windows, the city lights sparkling against the darkening sky. I'm exhausted, not from the physical demands of modeling, which are minimal in a shoot like this, but from the emotional whiplash of the past twenty-four hours.
"That's a wrap, everyone," the photographer calls, reviewing the final shots on his monitor. "Jade, perfection as always."
I smile my professional smile, the one that reveals nothing, and thank him before retreating to change out of the evening gown and back into my own clothes. Simple black pants and a cream silk blouse, comfortable yet elegant enough for the inevitable paparazzi that might be lurking outside.
As I emerge from the makeshift dressing room, Ethan materializes at my side.
"Ready to go?" he asks, his hand hovering near the small of my back without quite touching, always maintaining that professional distance.
I nod, suddenly eager to be home, to escape the performance of being Jade Sinclair, model, and just be myself. Whoever that is.
Declan joins us as we head for the elevator, positioning himself slightly behind us. The three of us move as a unit, a practiced formation developed over weeks of working together. There's comfort in the routine, in knowing they're there, solid and steady on either side of me.
The elevator descends smoothly to the hotel lobby, which is bustling with evening activity. Business travelers checking in, couples dressed for dinner at the hotel's Michelin-starred restaurant, staff moving efficiently through the space.
"Car's waiting out front," Ethan says quietly as the doors open. "Stay between us."
It's standard procedure, nothing unusual about the instruction, but something in his tone puts me on alert. His gaze is scanning the lobby more intensely than usual, his body subtly more tense.
"Is something wrong?" I ask as we step out.
"Just being cautious," he replies, which isn't really an answer.
We move through the lobby, Ethan slightly ahead, Declan close behind.
The marble floor gleams beneath the crystal chandeliers, our reflections distorted in the polished surface.
We're halfway to the entrance when I notice a man rising from one of the plush seating areas, his movements too abrupt, too focused.
Ethan sees him at the same moment I do. His arm shoots out, creating a barrier between me and the approaching figure.
"Declan, get her out," he commands, his voice sharp.
Before I can process what's happening, the man lunges forward, something metallic flashing in his hand.
Ethan moves with stunning speed, intercepting him before he can get anywhere near me.
They collide with brutal force, the man's momentum carrying them both into a decorative table that crashes to the floor.
"Jade!" Declan's voice cuts through my frozen shock. His massive hand wraps around my upper arm, pulling me toward the exit. "We need to go. Now."
I resist, my eyes fixed on Ethan grappling with my attacker. "We can't just leave him..."
"He knows what he's doing," Declan growls, his grip tightening. "Our priority is getting you to safety."
Hotel security is converging on the scene, guests scattering with alarmed cries. Ethan has the man pinned face-down, his knee in the center of the attacker's back, but others are shouting, pointing, the chaos escalating with each second.
"Ethan!" I call out, still struggling against Declan's iron hold.
He looks up, meets my gaze across the lobby. "Go!" he shouts. "I've got this. Go with Declan!"
Declan is already hauling me toward the doors, his bulk creating a path through the gathering onlookers. Outside, the valet has our car waiting, engine running. He practically lifts me into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind me, before rushing to the driver's side.
I twist in my seat, looking back at the hotel's entrance, but we're already turning the corner, the scene disappearing from view. My heart pounds against my ribs, adrenaline making my hands shake.
"We have to go back," I insist, turning to Declan. "We can't just leave him there."
His face is grim, dark eyes harder than I've ever seen them. "Ethan can handle himself."
"That's not the point!" My voice rises with panic and frustration. "What if he's hurt? What if..."
"Jade." Declan's deep voice cuts through my spiraling fear. His hand lands heavy and grounding on my thigh. "Ethan is fine. He's trained for this. The best thing we can do is get you to safety, which is exactly what he told us to do."
I stare at him, at the absolute certainty in his dark eyes. Slowly, the panic recedes, replaced by a cold fear that settles in my stomach.
"Who was that man?" I ask, my voice steadier now. "What did he want?"
Declan's jaw tightens. "I don't know. But we're going to find out."
His hand still rests on my thigh, warm and rough and grounding. I don't pull away, grateful for the contact that anchors me to the present moment.
The car speeds through the evening traffic, putting distance between us and the hotel. Between us and Ethan. My mind replays the scene in flashes: the man's sudden movement, the metal flash of a knife, Ethan's body colliding with his.
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing the way Mateo taught me at the waterfall.
In through the nose. Four counts. Hold. Four counts. Out through the mouth. Four counts.
It doesn't work. All I can see is Ethan, left behind, surrounded by chaos of my making.
Because that's the truth, isn't it? The man was after me. And Ethan put himself between us without hesitation.
"He'll be okay," Declan says quietly, reading my expression.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. But as the city blurs past the windows, one thought circles relentlessly in my mind.
He might be okay this time. But what happens next time? Or the time after that?