by Lana Dash
“Hey!” I yell.
The hooded man turns in my direction, but I can't see his face clearly. I take a step towards him but immediately jump back when a car horn tears through the silence on the street, and I narrowly avoid getting clipped by the car. The whole scene is less than three seconds, but when I look up again for the hooded figure, he's gone.
I glance up and down the street, looking for any sign of which way he went, but it's like he disappeared.
I don’t waste any time running over to the building and getting up to Margot’s apartment.
Vanessa, the bodyguard assigned to stay in the vacant apartment across from Margot overnight, is waiting for me when I get there. She gives me a rundown of the evening. Letting me know that Margot was up late. This is Vanessa's way of letting me know that she might not be in the best mood when I head over.
We have a few cameras set up in Margot’s apartment—one covering the outer door, the inside of her door, her living room, and the balcony patio. It was a conditional necessity when Margot insisted that she “didn’t need a babysitter at night.”
I walk across the hall and knock on Margot’s door. She has to answer by the third knock before I use my key and let myself in.
By the second knock, I can hear her muffled voice talking on the other side of the door, followed by the locks' clicks and chain on her door.
She opens it and gives me a quick nod before turning back towards the hallway that leads towards her bedroom. She's on the phone, and by the sound of her side of the conversation, I'm guessing she's on the phone with her mother getting the rundown of tonight's event that she's expected to attend.
I walk in and sit down on the sofa. Her usually tidy apartment looks a bit like it was ransacked the night before like she was looking for something. This must have been what Vanessa was talking about when she said she was up late and agitated.
There is a business envelope on the table with the company's name and address crossed out on the front, and my name is written on it in cursive letters. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands.
Dear Connor,
You're probably wondering why I'm writing you this letter instead of saying what I need to say to your face. Well, for one reason, it's two in the morning right now, and you aren't here. And for another reason, the buzz from the half bottle of chardonnay I just drank will have worn off by the time you show up in a few hours, and I won't have the guts to say this. I'll likely have a head-thumping hangover, so that's probably going to be fun for both of us. That's a joke. In case you've never heard one before, I wouldn't know. I'm not sure if I've ever seen you smile before. But if it's anything like I imagined it looking like, it will only increase the feelings I already have for you. It's weird to admit this out loud, even if it's only on paper, but spending nearly every waking hour around you, I've seen more sides to you than I think you typically let people see. There's the strong and protective side that you are perfectly fine showing the world. But then there are the tiny moments where that brooding mask slips, and I get to see more of you—the caring and understanding side. I know the concessions you made to make this experience easier for me, and I’m sorry if I haven’t shown my appreciation to you as well as I should have. I’m trying to be careful with my heart after my broken engagement. But I know that you will protect it—if you feel the same way. I hope you do.
Sincerely Yours,
Margot
“Oh my gosh.” Margot gasps, and I look up at her wide-eyed expression of horror.
4
CONNOR
Margot rushes towards me and snatches the letter out of my hand. “That wasn’t for you.”
“But it had my name on it.” I point to the now crumpled paper in her hand.
She shakes her head like somehow the motion is going to erase what she wrote to me. She stops the movement almost immediately and holds her fingers to her temples, and rubs little circles. There's the hangover that she predicted.
“This can’t be happening.”
“Did you mean what you said?” I ask, needing to know her answer more than almost anything in the world right now.
She looks up at me and opens her mouth to answer, but the phone in my pocket rings. And almost instantly, I can see a protective wall being built up around her.
“You should answer that.” She points to my pocket and turns to walk back down her hallway to her room.
The urge to follow her is strong, but it’s clear that she doesn’t want this conversation to happen. And it would be entirely unprofessional of me to see if there is anything more that can happen with her. My priority is her safety. I need to focus all my attention on that—not on what my heart and body feel when she around me.
I answer my phone. It’s our firm’s head of the tech team calling to give me some updates. They are getting closer to the sender, but they still don’t have a name for me yet. None of our intel is pointing us in any straight direction. Whoever is doing this can't be connected to Margot directly. She's a well-known woman in this city, so it's entirely possible that whoever is doing this is a complete stranger. But that doesn't make my job any easier.
I call to have someone from the office stop by my apartment to pick up my tux and shoes. I can shower and get ready in the apartment across the hall from here.
"I need a dress," Margot says in the doorway to the living room but doesn't come any closer.
It's like she thinks that if she keeps as much distance between us, we won't have to discuss the letter she left out for me to find. It's probably better this way. I need to process her words before I can honestly know what I'm feeling too. There’s no question that I’ve been attracted to Margot since day one, but I’ve been trained to compartmentalize certain feelings so that it doesn’t interfere with my mission to protect her at all costs. I can pretend if that will make her feel better.
“That’s fine,” I nod. “I just need to know where you want to go so I can call ahead—”
“And let them know you will be there with a gun.” She sighs. “I know the routine.”
Margot doesn’t say another word to me after she rattles off the names of the stores she’d like to visit. I call for the SUV to take us over, and we head inside the first dress store. I make my initial assessment of the layout, clocking all the patrons inside, and then give Margot the go-ahead to shop.
I try not to listen to her end of the conversation when her sister Lucy calls.
"I know what she said, but I'm not looking to be set up with some son of one of her friends," Margot says.
I take a few steps closer to her, trying not to look like I'm listening, but I can't help it. I know more about Margot than I think she realizes, it's part of my job to learn everything I can about my protectee, so there aren't any surprises. I know all about her ex-fiancé, and I can't help the jealous feelings I have bubbling up inside me.
He comes from a wealthy family, like Margot's, and went to all the right schools. I'm a guy that comes from a blue-collar family that's worked for everything in my life. Nothing was handed to me. After high school, I joined the Army and spent nearly a decade working for Uncle Sam. But after an accident involving an IED outside of Kabul, my career in the military ended. Thankfully an old Army buddy of mine had a friend in private security interested in hiring ex-military. I fought and worked for everything I have, but it's not nearly enough to give Margot the life she's grown accustomed to.
I move with her through the store, keeping my distance as best I can but still remaining close enough to step in if anything happens.
Margot picks out a few dress options and heads back towards the dressing rooms that line the back wall. I move with her and stand a few feet away from the curtain that divides us. I try to focus my attention on watching all that is happening in the store, looking for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. But I can't help but listen to the soft sounds of Margot's movements on the other side of the curtain. The thought that only a thin piece of fabric is between a nearl
y naked Margot and me makes my palms sweat.
Margot pulls back the curtain to reveal she's wearing a gold strapless sequined dress that hugs her figure's soft hourglass curves. My gaze sweeps up and down the length of her, and my dick twitches with excitement. I quickly clear my throat and turn away from her. Suddenly the idea of having her on my arm this evening with her in that dress doesn't seem like such a good idea. Not if my attention is divided between my job and what it will be like to hold Margot in my arms.
I run my palm over the back of my neck. I can do this. I think to myself over and over again like a mantra in my head. After finding the letter this morning and now seeing Margot in that dress, I'm finding it harder and harder to compartmentalize the obvious feelings I have for her. But I have a job to do, and now more than ever, Margot's safety is my number one concern.
5
MARGOT
The look in Connor’s eyes when he saw me in my dress this afternoon said a lot about how maybe I’m not the only one with feelings. He looked like he swallowed his tongue and spent the rest of the time we were out shopping looking anywhere but at me. It doesn’t take a cryptologist to crack that code.
The saleswoman tried to get me to try on a few other dresses to give me some options, but I knew that I wasn't leaving that store without the gold dress.
Vanessa returned to the apartment earlier than her typical scheduled time, not long after we got back from picking out a dress. She stayed with me while Connor left to get ready for tonight’s gala.
Against my mother's wishes, my father made the arrangement that Connor would be acting as my date tonight so that he can stay close to me without drawing unwanted attention. My father doesn't want people to know what is going on, he'd initially told me that I wasn't going until my mother threw a fit, asking what people would think if I didn't show up. I think she planned to play matchmaker for me tonight, and I'm grateful I won't have to deal with meeting anyone new.
"What do you mean you aren't going?" I ask when Lucy calls me as I'm finishing up the final touches of my makeup.
"This morning sickness is getting out of hand. I can't take a chance that some whiff of an appetizer on a tray as it passes me will trigger my nausea, and I end up puking on the mayor's wife or something," she says.
“Babe, I’ve got the strawberries and the bath running!” I hear Beck, Lucy’s husband, call to her in the background. There's a shuffling sound, and Lucy's voice is muffled as she says something to him.
“Morning sickness?” I chuckle.
I don't blame her. She's got probably the only acceptable excuse right now to miss one of our mother's events. I'd use it to if it meant not having to spend another evening with the city's snobbish high society. Lucy was so smart to find someone that isn't a part of this world.
It was a mixed blessing to have Greg call off the wedding. At the time, I thought I was devastated because I loved him. But after seeing the way Beck dotes on Lucy and how Connor looks after me—even if it’s only his job—I realize that what I thought was love was really just the illusion of love. I loved the idea of getting married but not the man I was meant to marry. In the end, I was spared from a lifetime of an unhappy marriage. I just could have done without the society page spotlight getting dumped gave me.
I was a joke to so many people that I thought were my friends. Whatever this threat is that brought Connor into my life, it’s given me the chance to step back and reevaluate what I want and who I want to spend my time with—Connor included.
“You won’t tell Mom and Dad, will you?” Lucy asks, interrupting my thoughts.
There's a knock at the door, and I hear Vanessa talking with Connor.
“No, I will keep your secret,” I assure her as I swipe the final coat of gloss over my lips.
“Thank you.” She lets out a sigh of relief. “I heard you have a special date tonight with your hot bodyguard.”
“It’s not like that at all,” I try to sound convincing, but even I don’t believe me.
“Please, don’t even try to pretend that you aren’t into him. I’ve seen the way you look at him when he isn’t looking, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking.”
“It’s true,” Beck adds from the background, clearly listening to our conversation.
Hope fills in me.
“It’s not like that,” I say, thinking about the look on his face when I walked in and saw him reading my letter.
It’s clear there is an attraction between us, but I think that I’m the only one that feels anything more than that.
“I wouldn’t give up hope. I saw the picture you sent of you in that dress.”
“I better go,” I say. “You know how mom gets when we show up late to these things.”
“Enjoy your night.”
“Enjoy your strawberries.”
I give myself one more glance in the mirror and grab my clutch. I can hear Connor and Vanessa whispering as I walk down the hall towards the living room. They stop when they see me walk in. Vanessa smiles, and Connor runs his hand over the back of his neck as he looks me up and down.
I'm not sure how it's possible, but Connor looks even better in a tuxedo. If only this was a real date and not some awkward setup to keep my protection detail on me while I attend the gala.
“Are you ready to go?”
I nod, and we head out to the SUV waiting for us in front of the building. Connor holds open the door for me as I step in but closes it before I can scoot over for him. Instead, he moves around the back to the other side and gets in. The driver pulls out into traffic to take us downtown to the hotel where the gala is being held.
“Did you find out something?” I ask, breaking the silence.
Connor doesn’t look away from staring out the window. “Vanessa said the tech name might have a name for us in the next few hours.”
I stare at him in shock. That is fantastic news, and he's acting like he's breaking the news to me like my grandfather just passed away or something. Why isn’t he more excited?
"That's a good thing, right?" I ask, not understand why his mood isn't matching with the news he's giving me.
He glances over at me. “It is. Nothing is more important to me than your safety.”
There’s something he’s not telling me.
6
CONNOR
Vanessa picked the worst time to tell me that after this assignment with Margot is complete, I will be sent on a new assignment to Mexico City. Usually, I like finding out about a new assignment, but all I can think about is the fact that I won't be seeing Margot every day once we find out who has been threatening her.
I wasn’t lying when I said nothing is more important to me than her safety, but the idea of waking up and not seeing her hurts me more than any wound I got during my time in combat. What I thought was feelings of overprotectiveness quickly becomes apparent that it's so much more. I'm in love with Margot, and I don't want to spend a day away from her.
We arrive at the hotel and head towards the ballroom where the event is being held. It’s like another world to me when we walk in. The decorations alone probably cost more than a year of my salary, not to mention the gowns, the jewelry, and the tuxedos.
Margot's hand finds mine like she knows that I need her to take the lead in this situation for once.
My team has already done the necessary background checks on all the guests and staff working tonight. No one’s name popped up in our system as a possible threat, but that doesn’t mean that someone couldn’t be in here that wasn’t on that list.
As Margot leads me through the crowd, stopping to speak with people she knows, she introduces me as her date. Many of them eye me skeptically, but no one says anything. The closest we get to having a one on one conversation is on the dance floor.
“Dance with me,” Margot leans over and whispers to me after dinner.
I glance over at the dance floor and see a few couples walking out arm and arm to sway slowly to the music.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
"Come on. I promise I won't step on your toes."
I give her a half-smile. "It's not my toes I'm worried about."
"I'll take my chances," she chuckles and pushes back from the table, and stands up. "Come on. One dance, please."
I'm quick to notice that many of the men here, without dates, are giving Margot hungry stares. I fight the urge to punch them for looking at her like a piece of meat. She's beautiful, there's no question about that, but there is so much more to Margot than her looks. She's smart, funny without realizing she is half the time and protective of those she cares about. None of them could appreciate Margot the way I do.
She leads me out onto the dance floor. I loop my arm around her waist and pull her close to me. I know that my presence here is a cover, but I'm not about to waste this opportunity to know what it feels like to hold her in my arms.
“Is this your first gala?” Margot asks, looking up at me through her dark lashes.
“First one and probably only one.”
“You’re lucky.” She smiles. “I have to attend one of these events at least once a month.”
“Why?”
She stares up at me like I just asked her some complex calculus equation and not the most straightforward question in the world.
“It’s just what’s expected of me from my family.”
I shake my head. “But what do you want?”
“You don’t understand, I don’t have a say.”
“I’ve heard you talk about how your sister has a say in what she does.”
"Lucy is different. My father expects more from her. I think he looks at me and only sees someone like my mother. Someone whose life revolves around the latest society gossip and galas."
“Is that what you want to do?”
She shakes her head and looks away. "I don't know what I want."
