Chapter 5
Sean
Outside Marcus’s door, I slide my “worker bee” mask back on. Neutral face? Check. Steady hands? Check. Blank eyes? Double check.
I knock twice.
“Enter,” he calls, quickly followed by, “report,” as I step in. He doesn’t even bother looking up.
“Nothing new, boss. Yesterday, she spent most of the afternoon at the salon, followed by a quick trip to the mall. We were in and out. Today, she stayed in. Hasn’t left the apartment.”
Of course, I’m talking about Aro. I always am. Marcus is paranoid as hell, and he loves to pretend he’s got eyes on everything when really it’s me doing all the watching. He’s the one out here cheating on Aro like it’s a sport, but somehow, he thinks she’s the one to worry about.
Not my circus, not my monkeys. I just do what I’m told.
Mostly.
What I don’t report is how anxious she’s been since that Lina conversation.
How her eyes flick to every shadow, every open doorway, every unfamiliar face.
How she always checks the exits now. She’s on edge, and I don’t know the full story, but I wish I did.
There’s more to Aro than she lets on. More to Lina, too.
I can feel it in my gut, and my gut’s rarely wrong.
But unless she decides to trust me, all I can do is wait.
“Good man,” Marcus says, tossing me a wink like he’s doing me a favor.
I nod back, playing the part, then turn and walk out without another word. I make my way back up to the penthouse. As soon as I open the door, I spot her.
She’s barefoot. Tank top slipping off one shoulder. Cotton shorts that barely qualify as clothes. Hair in a messy knot, cheeks still pink from the shower. Her face lights up when she sees me.
“Sean! Come on, you’re missing it!”
She pats the couch beside her like a golden retriever inviting a cuddle. I kick off my boots and cross the room, sinking down into the cushions. She immediately curls into my side, her bare legs folding beneath her, her cheek pressing to my shoulder like it belongs there. And maybe it does.
Fuck me.
She thinks I’m gay. That’s the only reason I got this job, and the only reason I get this soft, unguarded version of her. She changes in front of me without hesitation. Asks for my opinion on lingerie. Tells me when she’s bloated or horny or sad. She’s completely herself. No filter. No walls.
I love this side of her that no one else gets to see.
And I hate myself for the fib that makes it possible.
It started as a harmless white lie. Marcus would never hire a straight man to guard his girlfriend. Not someone who’d be around her constantly. Not when he’s as possessive as he is paranoid. So, I lied.
And now, a year later, I’m in too deep. Because the truth is, I’d die for her. I’d kill for her. Hell, I’d burn this whole place to the ground if she asked me to. She’s not my job anymore. She’s my reason.
I wrap an arm around her and rest my chin on top of her head.
On the TV, some trashy reality show blares about cheating scandals and fake friendships.
Aro’s watching it like there’s gonna be a quiz later.
Her vanilla shampoo fills my nose, and I shift slightly so she doesn’t notice the growing problem in my pants.
That’d be a hard one to explain.
She lets out a little sigh, the kind that sounds like contentment.
And for a second, I let myself pretend this is our life.
No Marcus. No secrets. Just me and her, watching garbage TV in peace.
But reality always comes crashing back in.
Marcus owns this place and he owns her, or at least, he thinks he does.
I glance down at Aro, curled up like she trusts me with her life. Maybe she does. But if she ever found out the truth about me, about how I feel, I’d lose her.
Still, I can’t stop wondering what keeps her here. She’s too smart, too capable, too goddamn beautiful to be trapped in this world. She could have a real career. A real life. Hell, she could have anyone she wanted.
So, why Marcus? The answer always comes back the same: protection. She’s not here for money. She’s not stupid enough to confuse diamonds for love. No, Aro is here for safety. For cover. That much, I’m sure of. But what is she running from? And how much longer can she keep it hidden?
The show ends, and Aro sits up, stretching like a cat.
“I’m bored.”
“What do you want to do, Baby?”
The pink flush that rises in her cheeks makes it worth the risk. Oh yeah. She definitely thinks I’m hot. I’ve caught the looks. Do I mess with her a bit because of it? Hell yes. Teasing her is a small indulgence I can’t resist.
“Marcus would throw a fit if he heard you call me that,” she mutters, but there’s no real heat behind it.
So let him. I notice she doesn’t ask me to stop. She just doesn’t want to start a fight with him. Noted.
“Ice cream!” she announces, clapping her hands. “Give me twenty.”
She scampers off toward the bedroom, already switching gears. While I’ve perfected the disinterested, obedient bodyguard act, she puts on a different kind of armor: makeup, designer clothes, heels that could double as weapons. Everyone plays a part here.
Exactly twenty minutes later, she emerges like a goddess on a warpath. Her dark hair is down and glossy, her makeup accentuates her already gorgeous features. Off-the-shoulder top, painted-on jeans, stilettos high enough to stab a man right in the ego.
I silently count to ten and think about baseball, taxes, my grandmother… anything to keep the blood from rushing south.
“Ready?” she asks, grabbing her purse.
“Lead the way, Baby.” I wink.
She blushes again and hurries toward the elevator. She has no idea I live for this—the slow burn, the wait, the chase. I’m a patient man. And when I finally have her? It’ll be worth every second of restraint.
∞∞∞
Watching Aro eat ice cream should be illegal.
She ordered mint chocolate chip, and the way her tongue curls around the cone… yeah, I’m dying. Meanwhile, I suck on my vanilla milkshake like it’s a lifeline and try not to picture things I shouldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
What’s wrong? You’re using your tongue like it owes you money, and I can’t decide if I want to marry you or commit a felony.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Just thinking.”
She nods like she understands and goes back to that damn cone. Jesus. I’m jealous of frozen dairy. Time to get a grip.
We finish our treats without me slapping the cone out of her hands, which honestly feels like a win. On the walk back, I catch her fidgeting. She keeps glancing at me like she wants to say something but isn’t sure how.
A block from Marcus’s place, I guide her into a quiet alleyway and cage her in-between my arms. She blinks up at me, startled, but not afraid. She never looks afraid of me. The trust in her eyes nearly levels me.
“What is it, Baby?” I ask, low and quiet. “You’ve been off since we left. Just say it.”
Her blue eyes search mine, flickering with hesitation. I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leans into the touch like she needs it.
“Have... have you heard anything else? About the guy, Ax? About Lina?”
Right. This is about her sister. The one she lost years ago. Maybe dead, maybe worse.
“I haven’t,” I tell her honestly.
Her shoulders sag. I can’t tell if it’s from disappointment or relief.
“I just... I can’t stop thinking about her. And I don’t trust Marcus to actually follow through. He gets distracted, and this lead is too important. I don’t want him to screw it up.”
“I got you,” I say, firm. “Even if he drops the ball, I won’t. I listen in on everything. I ask questions. I won’t let it fall through the cracks. I know how much she matters to you.”
That seems to ease something in her. The tight lines around her eyes soften.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I pull her into my chest and hold her, tight. She wraps her arms around me like she means it. Like I’m not just the hired help. And for a moment, I let myself believe it.
Reluctantly I pull back, and we rejoin the sidewalk in silence.
We’re barely out of the elevator when Marcus pounces. His hand clamps around her arm, too tight. She stumbles in her heels, and I see red.
“Where have you been? What were you doing? Who were you with?”
Her eyes flash with anger, but she swallows it fast and pastes on a smile.
“Sean and I got ice cream,” she says breezily. “That new place on Peachtree.”
Marcus turns to me, and I nod once, confirming her story. He’s lucky I don’t add a middle finger. It pisses me off that he treats her like this. Like a controlling psycho. She’s never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty. Never. And he’s also never put his hands on her like this.
I pointedly look at her arm, and he follows my gaze until he sees where his fingertips are cutting into her circulation. Immediately, he releases her.
“That sounds fun,” he says, tone suddenly bright. “Why don’t you go wait for me in the bedroom. On your knees.”
He slaps her ass like he owns it. She tenses, then melts into a flirty little kiss on his cheek.
“Yes, sir,” she breathes.
He eats it up like candy, and I want to punch him in the throat.
She walks away with a sway in her hips that makes my blood boil, but not for the reason Marcus thinks.
“Sean,” he snaps.
I tear my eyes away.
“Yes?”
“Keep staring at my girl’s ass like that and we’re gonna have a problem.”
I blink at him, all wide-eyed and innocent. “What? I’m gay, remember?”
He squints. “You sure about that? You were looking pretty hard.”
“I was checking the jean brand,” I lie. “Thought I might take her shopping to grab a few more pairs. She looks good, and I know you like that pair on her.”
Marcus beams. “See? This is why I keep you around. Now scram while I get my dick drained.”
He claps me on the back like we’re bros, and I leave before I do something I’ll regret.
Back in the elevator, my hands curl into fists. He’s getting worse. The way he talks to her, touches her… it’s escalating. I don’t know what flipped the switch, but it’s not going away. It’s only getting darker. And I don’t trust him. Not for a second.
By the time I reach the street, my decision is made. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, but now it’s more than just an idea, it’s a plan.
Aro needs a way out. She might not need it yet and she might not ever ask for it, but when she does? She’ll have one.
I run through my mental contact list weeding out the dirty ones, the cowards, the ones too noisy or weak. There’s only one name left standing. He’s reliable, discreet, dangerous in the right ways.
He’ll know what to do.
Outside the building, I press the call button.
He answers on the first ring.