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“Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”

Clenching his jaw, Dev paused the car at the entrance of our property and nodded to the security guard stationed on our driveway. He waved us through, but not before a reporter caught sight of us and a barrage of lights flashed all around us.

I’d encountered a few of these reporters before and slid down from my seat, doing everything to be invisible.

“They know you’re with me, Sami. There’s no point in hiding.”

I ignored him and stayed in the cramped space on the floorboard until we reached our garage. He didn’t know what one reporter could do. I’d dealt with it for over four months. This crowd was tame compared to what happened right after Clint had hired me.

You have to get it together, Samina. This is only the beginning.

“Sami? What’s going on?”

“I’m okay. Just give me a minute.”

I will not let them win. I will not let them win.

“Baby. You’re crying.”

The second he parked the car and the garage door closed, he jumped out and ran to my side. Opening the door, he crouched in front of me.

“It’s going to be okay,” he crooned as he pulled me toward him.

I refused to move from my spot and rested my forehead against the smooth leather of the seat.

“What happened? Tell me what’s going on.”

“They stalk you and tear apart your life. They laugh when they invade your private moments.”

He stroked my hair. “They get paid to take the pictures.”

I was going to have to tell him, or he wasn’t going to understand this was beyond a photograph.

“Does getting paid make it okay to break into the house and take pictures of you in the shower?”

His gaze bored into mine. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“One of the reporters out there broke into our house. I have a restraining order against him, but it doesn’t look like he cares that he is within the prohibited area.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

Tears trailed down my face.

Besides Tara, Jacinta, and my brother, I’d kept the incident as quiet as possible.

I inhaled deep and opened my lips to explain.

“Sami baby, not here. Let’s go inside. I’ll make you a drink, and then we can talk.”

I nodded and allowed him to help me out of the car.

Once we entered the house, Dev had me sit on the bench in the mudroom, removed my shoes, and before I could protest, lifted me up and carried me into the living room.

He sat me on the couch and moved to the bar in the back of the room. As he fixed our drinks, I opened my phone and brought up the pictures. I hated looking at them. It was at my weakest point.

I was sitting on the floor of my massive shower with my legs and head folded toward my chest, crying.

“What are you looking at?” Dev asked as he set a pomegranate vodka in front of me.