Chapter 42
“And why exactly do I need a bodyguard again?” I ask, even though I already know. But poking the bear is a hobby at this point.
Marcus sighs, long-suffering. “We’ve been over this, Aro. I’m moving some new product that’s ruffling the wrong feathers. We’re hearing whispers in the Underground about possible retaliation, maybe worse. And since everyone knows you’re mine, you’d be the first target. Kidnapping. Ransom. Worse…”
It’s the way he says ‘mine’ that makes my eye twitch. Not the rest. I don’t even flinch at that anymore, which is its own kind of terrifying. Like some piece of my humanity got carved off, and I never even noticed it was missing.
“So basically, you pissed off the wrong guys.”
“Aro,” he snaps, shooting me a warning look from his leather throne of a sofa.
I roll my eyes and fold my arms, very obviously pouting. “Fine. Whatever.”
The truth is, I don’t mind the idea of a bodyguard. What I mind is Marcus. And today I’m feeling extra petty, because I caught him cheating—again. Honestly? In some messed up way, I was almost relieved. One, he owes me now, and two, I don’t have to sleep with him for a while.
Small wins.
A knock at the door saves us from another round of manipulative apologies.
“Come in,” Marcus calls, sounding bored.
His assistant peeks in. “One of the applicants is here.”
“Send him in.” He doesn’t even glance up from his phone. Classic Marcus. Make them feel beneath you before they even speak.
When the man walks in, my pout dies a fast, quiet death.
Holy hell.
He’s tall, broad, dark-skinned with a buzzed head and the kind of build that looks sculpted by God. Even in a suit, it’s clear he’s muscle stacked on muscle. I bet I could bounce a quarter off any part of him and hear it sing.
Marcus stays seated, acting uninterested. I stand.
“Hello,” the man says, voice low and smooth. “I’m Sean.”
He offers his hand. When I take it, a jolt shoots through me, from my head all the way to my toes. And probably to my nipples, too, if we’re being frank. His eyes widen slightly, like he felt it too.
“Aro,” I breathe, way too soft.
“Hi, Sean,” Marcus finally says, looking up. “Why don’t you sit and tell us about yourself.”
We drop hands like they’re on fire. Sean clears his throat and takes the seat across from us. I retake my seat beside my very dangerous boyfriend. The one I can’t afford to piss off. Sometimes, I need reminding.
Sean starts listing his background. It’s impressive… probably. I don’t catch much. I’m too busy staring at the calm way he carries himself. The precision. The quiet strength. He looks like he gives a damn about what he does. Like he cares.
Imagine that—caring about your job. I used to dream about that once. Having a career. Making a difference. Now? I’m just Marcus’s favorite accessory. Made up, polished, and kept on a tight leash.
And Sean? He feels like a suit-wrapped rebellion made just for me.
“I like him,” I say when Sean finishes. “Babe, do you have any questions?”
Marcus raises a brow. “Do you?”
“Just one.” I smile sweetly. “Have you ever had sex with a client?”
Sean coughs, caught mid-breath.
Marcus perks up, suddenly interested. “Have you?”
Sean straightens, composed again. “No, I haven’t. And I wouldn’t.”
“Good,” I say, folding my hands neatly in my lap. The correct answer. I already see Marcus calculating. If he suspects someone’s into me, he won’t hire them. He’s that insecure.
“In this case,” Sean adds, carefully, “it may help to know I’m gay.”
It takes effort not to frown. Meanwhile, Marcus grins like he just won a million bucks.
“Excellent,” Marcus says, practically purring now. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sean. We’ll be in touch.”
Sean shakes both our hands before making a swift exit.
“Well, that settles it,” Marcus says, smug. “He’s the one.”
“Why?” I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Because he’s not into women?”
“That, and because he’s the only competent one I’ve seen so far. The gay part’s just a bonus.”
I force a smile. “What if I don’t want him around you?”
“Tough shit.” He smirks. “Besides… you know I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again. You’re it for me, Aro. I love you.”
He grabs my chin and kisses me. It’s firm and possessive. I don’t kiss him back.
Marcus doesn’t love anyone. Not really. I used to think I was lucky to have someone like him want me. Now, I know better.
Men like him don’t let go until they’re dead. On the bright side? I haven’t ruled that option out.
“Now,” he says, brushing my hair back, “tell me what I’ve gotta do to earn your forgiveness.”
Perfect.
I’ve been waiting for this ever since I found another woman’s underwear in the back of his car.
“There’s something I need from you.”
“Anything,” he says. “Name it.”
Most people would ask for something shiny. A car. A necklace. Something expensive and meaningless.
But me?
“I need you and your guys to keep your ears open for information or inquiries about a man and a woman.”
His expression shifts. “A man?”
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I don’t need you to find him. I just need to know if he’s looking. Specifically, if he’s using the Underground to track down a woman. My sister.”
“You have a sister?” Marcus looks genuinely surprised. He should. I just made her up.
“No one knows. For good reason. This guy? He’s dangerous. He hurt her, Marcus.”
That sobers him. For all his flaws, Marcus draws the line at hurting women. Physically, at least. Emotionally? He could shatter someone if they actually cared. Good thing I don’t.
He nods, slowly. “You’ll need to give me everything you’ve got—descriptions, names, details.”
“Done.” I meet his eyes. “Thank you.”
And I mean it.
Because now I finally have what I came for. Marcus will be watching for Joe, and if his name so much as gets whispered in the Underground, I’ll know.
Two birds. One stone.
∞∞∞
Sean—11 Months Ago…
It’s raining again.
A soft, steady fall that mutes the usual chaos of the city and turns the penthouse windows into watercolor.
Aro’s curled up on the leather couch like some gilded painting—bare legs tucked under her, wine glass in one hand, and a book in the other.
She hasn’t turned a page in a while. She doesn’t seem sad.
Just… tired. The kind of tired that lives in your bones.
I’ve seen it before. Usually in soldiers who made it home, but not whole.
I stand near the kitchen, arms crossed, keeping watch.
She doesn’t look at me when she says, “You ever relax?”
I raise a brow, not that she can see it. “Do you?”
That gets a half-smile. “Touché.”
She goes back to pretending to read. I go back to pretending I’m not watching her out of more than just duty.
I’ve been with her for a month now, and this woman is always on guard. Always armored up, even when she looks calm. Just thinking about it stresses me out.
She sets the wine down and stretches, slow and catlike, her dress slipping a little off her shoulder. I look away, but not fast enough.
She catches it. “Relax. It’s just a shoulder. I’m not trying to seduce you.”
I snort. “If you were, that would be extremely unprofessional.”
She narrows her eyes, like she’s weighing me. Then smirks. “So what, you made of steel or something?”
“Nah,” I say, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “Just better at hiding it than most.”
“Bet you say that to all your assignments.”
“You’re not an assignment,” I say. “You’re my path to salvation.”
That earns a real laugh. Soft. Surprised. Like she wasn’t expecting to enjoy herself tonight.
“If you’re depending on me for redemption, I’m going to highly advise you to look elsewhere.”
Her smile lingers this time, a little longer than before. She sets the book aside. I think that’s the first real laugh I’ve heard from her since I got here.
She tilts her head back against the couch and looks at me. “You always this serious?”
I sip my drink. “Only when I’m sober.”
She raises her glass in mock cheers. “That’s tragic. You should drink with me sometime.”
“You know Marcus would lose his shit if he found out I drank on duty.”
“Yeah, well, Marcus isn’t here. And if he was, he’d be too busy texting one of his side pieces to notice.”
She mumbles the last part. I don’t answer. Just walk over and sink onto the couch—close, but not too close, keeping a respectful distance.
For a moment, it’s quiet. Not tense, not heavy. Just… comfortable.
Then she tilts her head. “Why are you really here, Sean?”
I meet her eyes. “To keep you safe.”
She rolls hers. “No, I mean, this. This life. You seem like someone who could’ve been... something else. A cop. A teacher. Boyfriend material.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think I’m boyfriend material?”
First time anyone’s called me that. I’m practically married to my job. I don’t date. Don’t talk. Don’t try.
She shrugs, coy. “You’ve got the energy. You’re quiet. Capable. Got great arms. Steady hands. Look dangerous in a suit.”
“You making a list?” I tease.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she says, but her gaze lingers a second too long.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I smile. Something about her makes me want to open up. To have someone know me. Even if it’s just a small piece. So, I give her something.
“I used to think I’d be a therapist,” I admit.
She blinks. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. But life happened. Money got tight. I joined the military. Saw too much shit. Got out. Went into the private sector. And now…” I gesture around. “Here I am. Babysitting the girlfriend of a very dangerous man.”
Her mouth tilts. “Sorry I’m not more exciting.”
“Oh, you’re exciting,” I say. “You just pretend not to be.”
She goes still at that. Then, says softly, “I don’t think I remember how to not pretend.”
Something pulls in my chest, but I keep it light. “Start small, then. Start now. You’re safe here.”
She looks at me, like she’s weighing whether or not she can trust me.
“No one’s said that to me in a long time,” she murmurs.
I don’t say anything. Just watch her as she quietly works through something.