The Protector: The Complete C.I.A Romance Series

by Monroe, Lilian

  That was worth something, wasn’t it? There was something between us—something to be explored.

  But he had left me once, and it could happen again. As soon as this business with Gianni was over, would Freddy still be there? If my career as an artist crumbled when the Russos were taken down, would Freddy still think I was talented and interesting? Or would he lose interest and walk away again?

  “What are you thinking about?” He asked, sipping his coffee. His plate was completely clean as I picked at the pancakes on my own.

  “Nothing,” I said, stuffing a forkful of syrupy flapjack into my face.

  “You were deep in thought. Your forehead was wrinkling like it always does when you’re worried about something.”

  I swallowed and arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying I have wrinkles?”

  “You might, if you keep worrying about things as much as you do.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “It’s just a bit surreal to have you here. I hated you for a long time.”

  “I hated myself, too.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could hold them back, and Freddy dazzled me with that smile again. I could feel the walls around my heart crumbling with every second we spent together, and I didn’t know if I had the energy to stop them.

  “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

  We washed the dishes together. Every time Freddy’s body would brush against mine, it sent a shiver of heat coursing through my veins. His hand brushed my hip and my need for him grew.

  We ended up tangled in the bedsheets once again, and then both showered and made our way to work—me, to the studio, and Freddy to his office. I was supposed to be gone by four o’clock, when Freddy would be picking up his commission. I knew he was right about that—there was no way I’d be able to act normally around him.

  I didn’t see anyone at the gallery, so I locked myself into my studio. I stood in front of a half-finished painting and sighed. I’d been working on commissions for two months. My bank account was happy, but my creativity was flagging.

  I needed to do something different. Something for me.

  So, I set the half-finished commission aside and started painting something new. It was brighter than what I was used to creating. Happier. I smiled the whole time I painted, lost in my own world.

  The fears that I felt this morning started to melt away. Maybe things between Freddy and me could work out. The past was the past, and we’d both moved on. I’d made something of myself, and so had he. We were both successful adults now. We were different than when we were teenagers, but our essence was the same. I was drawn to him in a way I’d never experienced before.

  That was something to fight for—to risk feeling vulnerable for.

  I didn’t realize it was past four o’clock until I heard voices on the other side of the gallery door. Freddy and Gianni were here. My eyes widened as I glanced at the door—I should have been gone an hour ago. Gianni’s musical voice floated through the door, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. They were getting closer.

  I grabbed my paints and started frantically putting them away. My hands shook as I dumped my brushes in a cup of paint thinner and started washing off my palette. I glanced at the door again, cursing.

  The first time in two months that Freddy had asked me to do something—not be here when he was—and I couldn’t even manage it. By this point, I knew Gianni was hiding something from me, but I didn’t know what it was. I just couldn’t admit to myself that he was selling girls overseas. Fear started to snake around the base of my spine as I wiped my hands off and hurried toward my purse.

  I needed just ten more seconds and I’d be out the door. Ten more seconds and I wouldn’t have to pretend I didn’t know Freddy as well as I did. Ten more seconds and Freddy could do his job.

  But I didn’t have ten seconds. The studio door opened and I whipped my head around to see a smiling Gianni and a wide-eyed Freddy staring back at me. Freddy’s brows drew together and his eyes flashed.

  I forced a smile on my face. “Hi,” I said with a strangled voice. Gianni floated toward me and kissed my cheek. Freddy extended a stiff hand and I shook it, not daring to meet his eye.

  You shouldn’t be here, he was saying. I was putting us both in jeopardy. If Gianni sensed that we knew each other, he might start wondering who Freddy was—and what else I might be hiding from him.

  Gianni might not notice, or care—I barely saw him these days, except for the odd business meeting or a hello at the gallery. But if he started to become suspicious, this whole arrangement with the CIA could go south very, very quickly.

  “Mr. Langston here was curious about your studio,” Gianni explained. “I hope you don’t mind us intruding on your inner sanctum.”

  “Of course not,” I smiled. “You saw the finished painting outside?”

  “Marvelous,” Gianni said with a flourish. “Absolutely masterful. Mr. Langston loved it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Freddy answered, his eyes still drilling into mine. Why are you still here? “It’s exactly what I wanted without even knowing exactly what I wanted. You truly are a genius, Ms. Ford.”

  I blushed. The heat of Freddy’s stare was intense. I knew he was mad at me, but I couldn’t look away. I jumped when Gianni’s phone rang.

  “Excuse me,” he said with a nod to both of us. He turned around and walked out of the studio, and Freddy and I were alone.

  24

  Freddy

  “You’re not supposed to be here.” My voice sounded harsher than I intended, but I was mad. Hailey was putting herself in more danger than necessary by being here at the same time as me. Anytime we were making contact with Gianni or his parents, anything could happen—and if Gianni sensed that Hailey and I knew each other, he might get suspicious.

  This operation had been going on for months and I knew it was coming to a head. Having Hailey around only made it riskier.

  “I lost track of time.” She blinked, biting her lip.

  Fire burned inside me. She had a smudge of paint on her cheek, and her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. She was still wearing an old paint-stained shirt over her clothes, and she fingered the hem nervously.

  She was stunning. She shouldn’t have been there, but at this point it didn’t matter. I crossed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around her. My lips found hers and I kissed her hard.

  Hailey melted into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her soft body against my hard one. I held her close as she moaned into my mouth, tangling her fingers into my hair.

  It was foolish. Wrong. Stupid. We should have been staying away from each other, but I couldn’t keep my hands off her. I ran my hands down to her ass and pulled her close. She dug her fingernails into my scalp and kissed me harder.

  In a second, I’d have her on the floor, undressed and spread wide for me.

  But a noise behind me made us pull apart, and a moment later, Gianni re-entered. He glanced from my flushed face to Hailey’s, frowning as he smiled. Hailey’s chest heaved up and down and I ran my fingers through my already messy hair.

  “I was just…” Hailey waved her arm toward a painting. “Showing him…”

  “I might have to commission another painting,” I said, forcing my face back to normal. My heart hammered and I fought to keep my breath steady. I shifted my pants as inconspicuously as I could.

  Gianni nodded. “That can be arranged. Your other painting will be packed up and ready for you within an hour. I’m very sorry, but I have some other business to attend to.” He waved his phone as if to say the phone call had pulled him away.

  I nodded. “No problem. I’ll wait. I can entertain myself.”

  Gianni glanced at Hailey for a brief second and then back at me. He said nothing, only smiling politely and taking his leave.

  When the door closed, Hailey let out a sigh. “You are unbelievable.”

  “Me?” I put a hand to my chest.
>
  “Yes, you! You walk in here all angry, looking at me like you’re going to tear me apart, and then you do the one thing that can get us both in trouble. I know I shouldn’t have been here but—”

  I crushed my lips against hers, picking her up to wrap her legs around my waist. Carrying her over to the couch in the corner, I kissed the life out of her. She scraped her fingernails along my back and nipped at my bottom lip. Her eyes were dangerous, full of fire and passion.

  Dropping her onto the couch, we both frantically clawed at our clothing.

  “Does that door have a lock?” I asked, nodding to the gallery door.

  Hailey jumped up to kick her pants off and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, jogging to the door. She was completely naked from the waist down, only wearing her paint-stained shirt on top. She slid the lock into place and turned toward me as I tore my shirt off over my head.

  Her fingers reached for the buttons of her painter’s shirt, but I stopped her. “Keep it on,” I growled.

  She walked over to me, her hands tracing the outline of my pecs, my stomach, my shoulders. She laid a soft kiss on my chest and then reached between my legs to grab my cock.

  I groaned. Feeling her delicate fingers around my thick shaft drove me insane. She only stroked me slowly for a few seconds before I couldn’t take it anymore. I picked her up and set her down on the sofa before burying my length inside her.

  We said nothing, letting our bodies do the talking. I gripped Hailey’s paint-smeared top as I thrust inside her. She left long, deep scratch marks down my chest and wrapped her legs around my waist to take me deeper, deeper, deeper.

  My head spun. I could hardly breathe. I felt like I was going to pass out, but it didn’t matter. She came on my cock seconds before I emptied myself inside her, and then I lay on top of her, panting.

  Hailey’s fingers traced my pecs, around my nipples, and down my stomach. She kissed my neck softly and I shifted around to sit beside her on the couch. We pulled our clothing off the floor. When I grabbed my shirt, something hard went clattering down.

  Hailey reached down and picked up the tiny microphone that I’d been wearing. Her eyes widened. “Is this…?”

  “Fuck,” I said, stuffing the mic in my pocket. I put a hand to my head and grimaced. “Fuck.” Gary probably heard all of that. He was recording everything with my interaction with Gianni—of course he was. I was supposed to be working.

  I glanced at Hailey. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I saw you and…”

  Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were getting redder by the second. “Who… Who heard us?”

  “I think just Gary, one of our tech guys.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Hailey said putting both hands to her face. A red flush stained her neck.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling her close. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. “It’s okay. He won’t say anything.”

  Hailey glanced up at me, her eyebrows drawn together. “Will you get in trouble?”

  I laughed. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I’ll get in trouble?”

  “If they take you off the operation…”

  “I’m not leaving you.” I took her chin in my hand and looked her in the eye. “I meant what I said. I’m not leaving your side.”

  Her eyes glistened, and she nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Even if they take me off this operation. Even if I lose my job.”

  She tilted her face up to mine, searching my eyes. I could see the doubt in her face, and I didn’t blame her. I’d just have to show her that I was here for her—if she’d have me.

  “Your painting should be ready to be picked up if you go back to the main gallery,” she said, nodding to the locked door. “You’ve probably been in here long enough already.”

  I nodded, kissing her forehead and squeezing her hand. Then, I straightened my shirt and walked out.

  25

  Hailey

  I worked until late in the night, alone in the studio with the door locked and my headphones on. I painted until my back ached and the soles of my feet were sore. and I finally stretched my neck from side to side and decided to stop. Not only had I made progress on the last commission from the exhibition back in September, but I’d also started on a new painting, too. I could see a new, brighter series of paintings forming in my mind and I was more excited than ever to get them onto a canvas.

  After I cleaned up, I flicked the studio lights off and took a deep breath. My body was sore from standing in the same spot all day, so I decided to roll out a yoga mat I kept in the studio to stretch out. I moved from pose to pose in the dark space, surrounded by all the sights and smells that I loved most in the world.

  My body started to loosen up. Within ten to fifteen minutes, the knots in my shoulders and tiredness in my legs had started to ease. With a deep breath, I stood up and smiled.

  I glanced at the couch where Freddy and I had sex earlier, and I grinned. The voice in my head telling me to stay on guard around him was getting quieter and quieter. The more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to be with him.

  It felt right—and something so right couldn’t be wrong. It just couldn’t. There was something undeniable between us, and I was starting to realize that being around Freddy was plugging all the little holes that had peppered my heart for a decade.

  Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe Freddy would stay, even when things grew difficult. Maybe he had cared about me all this time.

  Sure, he’d left when we were eighteen. I’d been thrown out of my parent’s house and had to make my own way. I’d blamed him for a long time—but he was only trying to make his way in the world, too. He’d been studying on a scholarship and his entire future had hinged on his performance.

  We’d both been two kids under immense pressure, and maybe it was time for me to forgive him.

  My heart felt peaceful for the first time in years at the thought of forgiveness. I realized that forgiveness wasn’t something that just happened, it was a conscious choice. All I had to do was choose to forgive Freddy, and all that hurt would dissolve away into nothing. It was time for me to let go.

  Then, I heard the rumbling of a truck in the alleyway. Instantly, I was on high alert. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I strained my ears to listen.

  Thankful that I’d already turned off the lights, I tiptoed over to the wall that faced the alleyway and placed my stepladder beneath the high windows. I moved slowly, pulling myself up once again to peer over the window ledge.

  The same men were outside, having the same difficulty backing into the loading bay beside my studio. This time, their truck was bigger, so there was no way they’d be able to back it into the small space. I watched, wide-eyed, as they abandoned their efforts and rolled the trailer door up to start unloading the paintings by hand.

  Breathless, I watched. I didn’t dare move. I knew the studio was dark and it would be almost impossible for them to see me looking through the corner of the window, but it still felt risky. Now that I knew that the CIA were watching, all the puzzle pieces started falling into place.

  Art exhibitions. Large movement of money. Gianni ripping open that canvas last time. Was he moving money in those paintings? That would explain the connection to the art gallery—and also why their paperwork had been squeaky clean. They weren’t laundering money through the art gallery. They were physically moving it.

  My heart thumped. How had I not realized this before?

  Up until last night—until Freddy and I had talked about our past—I hadn’t really believed him about Gianni. I’d trusted Gianni more than I’d trusted Freddy. Gianni had given me a career, a future—and Freddy had only given me heartbreak.

  But now…

  Something shifted inside me. My doubts about Freddy were evaporating, and I started questioning every interaction I’d ever had with Gianni. The business meeting at the Four Seasons, the way he dodged all my questions about the art gallery, these late-night deliveri
es…

  I was in the middle of a dangerous hurricane. I didn’t know anything about these people—but my gut was telling me to trust Freddy, and to distance myself from Gianni.

  The gallery door rattled, and I nearly fell off my step stool. I jumped off, grabbing my headphones and throwing them on my head as I dove onto my yoga mat again, pretzeling myself into a pose just as the door opened. Gianni appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until he saw me.

  I jumped, pretending to be startled. “Gianni,” I said, my voice sounding too fake to my own ears. “You’re still here?”

  “I was going to say the same thing about you,” he replied. His eyes looked black in the low light of the studio.

  I pulled my headphones off my head and forced a smile. A garage door slammed outside and the truck rumbled to life again. I pretended not to hear it. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “What do you know about Thomas Langston?”

  Thomas Langston – Freddy’s fictional identity.

  Uh oh.

  “Umm… not much.” I toyed with the edge of my shirt.

  “He seems to have taken an interest in you.”

  “Has he?” My voice squeaked.

  Gianni gestured to my new painting. “This is different from your usual style. Happier.” He frowned.

  I gulped. “I… I know. I’ve just… Since I broke up with Jayden and you connected me to all these art lovers, life has just been a lot easier.” I took a deep breath. “I realized I never properly thanked you.”

  “Well, Hailey,” he said, walking toward me. His face was still cast in shadows, and dread started snaking up my spine. “This is a mutually beneficial arrangement—and I wasn’t using this studio space anyway.”

  There was an edge to his voice and I wondered, for the first time, if Gianni was really as generous as I’d first thought. Maybe all this time in the studio—all these sales and commissions—were him just using me as an all-too-innocent artist willing to paint whenever he told me to, supplying him with an endless stream of canvasses to stuff with his dirty money.