Page 4 of Hunted Hearts (Black Heart Security #6)

Juliette jumped in front of him and yanked the door open before he registered that the woman hadn’t heeded his order to stay put.

“Camden. Come in, please.” For this man, she was all warm smiles, and Theo got all the glares.

His hand connected with the guy’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Who are you?”

A look of confusion and amusement played over his face as he looked between Theo and Juliette. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He gave him his best rendition of a pissed-off SEAL—or bodyguard. Whatever the hell he was now.

“Uh—Theo. Please take your hand off Mr. Kline and let him in.” Juliette stepped close, so close that he realized that sweet, earthy scent was her perfume.

Reluctantly, he dropped his hand but folded his arms in a way he knew made his biceps bulge. The closest he could come to a threat right now.

“Who are you?” he demanded again.

The man let out a laugh, jerking his thumb toward Theo. “You really don’t know?”

“Not a clue, buddy.”

“Mr. Malone, this is the night show host. I’m performing on his show in just an hour’s time.”

When Theo stared at her, she gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Camden Kline?”

“Never heard of you. Give me your ID.”

“Oh my god!” Juliette’s exclamation rolled right off Theo as he held out his palm for the guy’s ID.

He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket and then flipped open his wallet to pull out his driver’s license. Theo took it and compared the face on the card to the man in front of him.

He handed it back. “We’re in the middle of something. What can we do for you?”

Camden looked at him with a little more respect and turned to Juliette, rushing through what sounded to Theo like a rehearsed monologue thanking her for being on his show.

The instant the guy left and the door shut, she whirled toward Theo. “You’re—ah!” She threw up her hands.

“I’m going to suggest again that you consider canceling this performance. These opportunities must be a dime a dozen for you.”

She jutted her jaw and shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“The fame isn’t worth it.”

Angry sparks shot from her eyes. “You think this is about fame? Through my art, I spread awareness for a charity that is very near and dear to me! Now, if you’ll get out of my dressing room, I need to prepare for my performance!”

Pink flushed her cheeks as she ripped open the door and held it for him.

With mounting frustration, he saw she wasn’t going to listen to him and cancel. He stepped up to the door, pausing to look down at her for a long moment.

She squirmed a bit under his gaze but held her ground.

“I’ll be right outside this door.”

“Fine.”

“And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me Mr. Malone. Call me Theo.”

* * * * *

The stage lights warmed Juliette’s bare arms like sunlight, even though it was early evening. In her world, it wasn’t even technically time for the evening meal, which always took place at seven-thirty when she was growing up.

The faint traces of last night’s band still lingered in the air—stale sweat and a hint of patchouli. Juliette stood center stage, violin resting in the crook of her shoulder. She tested the grip of her bow one last time.

And…there it was. The light, familiar flutter.

It wasn’t quite nerves—she knew nerves. This was something different, something she only felt on those rare occasions when she knew a performance was going to be really electric, when every note she rehearsed began to vibrate just under her skin.

When the world went still, and she exhaled music.

This was a recorded performance for a nighttime talk show with a very small live audience, not an entire arena bursting with fans. Yet, she felt it just the same.

After years of performing, she knew this type of energy was unpredictable. It had nothing to do with the size of the crowd or the paycheck at the end of the day. It was just part of the art.

The producer’s voice crackled in her in-ear monitor. “Juliette, we’re rolling in thirty seconds. You’re perfect, just breathe.”

She nodded faintly, not daring to lift her hand in case she broke the energy threading through her muscles. A quiet hum passed behind her—crew members shifting, cameras adjusting, the rustle of the small studio audience waiting just beyond the velvet curtain.

She did breathe.

And then she felt it.

A pull.

Juliette’s gaze flicked to the wings, just off stage left. He was there. Her bodyguard. Standing like a shadow cut from stone. His thick arms were crossed, which caused the black shirt to pull tighter across a chest she hadn’t meant to notice.

He wasn’t even man-sized. He was the equivalent of a military tank.

His face was in shadow, but she knew his steady stare was fixed on her.

And just like that, the flutter spiked.

Not the good kind. Not the artistic kind.

Call me Theo. Ugh.

The man was impertinent and infuriating, impossible, insufferable, insistent, intrusive, intimidating…

And inexplicably intriguing.

“Ten seconds,” the producer informed her.

She rolled her neck and lifted the bow.

This was her moment. A domain she moved through like she owned it, because she had since the age of three when she walked up to her father and demanded a violin.

Even as she played the first note, she felt the weight of Theo’s gaze, stronger than any spotlight.

The notes flew out of her fingertips, vibrated through her bow and into her whole body. She threw herself into the music, letting it pull her under.

Before she knew it, her fingers zipped through a light, fluid run—a cascade so effortless it felt more like breathing than playing. The sound shimmered in the air, and for a moment, there was nothing else. No cameras. No whispers. No eyes watching from the wings. Just the music. Just her.

When the final high E note rang out, the bubble that Juliette knew so well hovered around her, enclosing her in a private joy of creation.

Applause broke out across the stage, and her mind cleared of vibratos and harmonics. She blinked once, then lowered her instrument. Cradling it close, she bowed.

Then she turned for the wings. Harper would be standing there waiting to receive her instrument and place it carefully in its case. As she approached the shadows, the weighty stare of the man in the wings tracked her every move.

Harper was all smiles as she accepted Juliette’s violin. “You killed it!”

“Juliette! Juliette!” The crowd’s chanting washed over her, shooting her even higher. As she crossed the stage to the seating area where Camden Kline was waiting to speak to her, she waved at the audience, still humming with energy.

Camden Kline clasped her hand and drew her in for an industry hug, brief but not without warmth. She slipped into the leather armchair next to the host’s desk, and a blanket of calm settled over her.

She sat tall in the seat, posture perfect, legs crossed and a soft smile playing on her lips. With the cameras rolling, the host leaned in with a flash of his white teeth. The audience broke into applause once more as he introduced her simply as, “Juliette!”

On a big screen on the wall behind them, video footage of her concerts played without any sound.

This wasn’t her stage anymore. While she had the skills to give great interviews, she felt the most in control with her fingers to the strings and bow in her hand.

She pulled back her shoulders and smiled at the audience and then the host.

He beamed. “Juliette, thank you for joining us tonight. It’s not every day we get someone with talent like yours on our show.”

She gave a small, gracious nod. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“So let’s start with the basics. How long have you been playing violin?”

“Since I was three.”

“Three! Most three-year-olds ask for dolls. What made you ask for a violin?”

She launched into the tale she’d relayed many times over the years, about how she watched a concert on TV with a woman playing violin and dancing around the stage. In that moment, Juliette knew she needed to get one into her hands.

“Fascinating story.” Camden Kline beamed at her again. “And did your parents buy you one?”

She nodded. “Yes, they did. They took me very seriously. As you may know, music runs in my family.”

“That’s right—a famous composer shares your bloodline.”

“That’s correct.”

“Antoine Dauvergne. Am I pronouncing that right?”

She issued a low laugh and nod. “He is a distant cousin, that’s true. But I worked hard to get this far in my career.”

The screen flashed to the portrait of her famous ancestor before changing to her name in neon lights.

Camden Kline chuckled. “Of course you did. You need a lot of devotion to play like you do. Now, tell us a little about your personal life. Are you dating anyone?”

Her heart sank. All too often, these interviews slid to things that weren’t important to her career and was an insult to everything she stood for.

A pause stretched. She forced a tight smile. “No. I have plenty of company from my amazing team.” She waved a hand at the people she couldn’t see standing in the shadows but knew were there.

The host grinned, glancing pointedly past her to the wings of the stage, where Theo stood like a statue in black. “Your new bodyguard included?”

Her jaw tensed. “He’s…very professional.”

“I’ll bet,” he muttered, then shifted in his seat. “You must rely on your team a lot when you’re on the road. You’ve been touring for four years now. Any plans to slow down? Settle down?”

Her heart didn’t sink this time at his question. It throbbed with a beat of anger.

She smiled. “I love the music, the audiences, the people I meet on the road—”

“But doesn’t it get lonely? After your tour wraps up in the States, do you plan to return to your homeland of France?”

Here was her chance to talk about what she really wanted to focus on.

Juliette straightened her shoulders. “Actually, I’ll be spending some time in Romania.”

“Do you have more famous family members there?” Camden Kline propped his jaw on his hand, leaning across his desk as if he was truly interested, but she knew that wasn’t the case. This interview was just as empty and devoid of personal connection as all the others she gave.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t take back control.

“I won’t be visiting family there. I’ll be visiting an orphanage.”

“You’re visiting the children?”

The audience broke into applause, and Juliette ground her teeth until it faded away.

“The children’s charity is something I’m deeply passionate about. The children there—many of them lost everything. And we provide food, education, and most importantly, access to music.”

“Would you like to have a family of your own someday? You must want to pass on your talent to a young Juliette.”

She twined her fingers in her lap to keep them from shaking with irritation. “As a matter of fact, I already have lots of kids. In the charity I support, which is why so many performances on the tour are fundraisers.”

Another spattering of applause broke out, and the night show host gave them a broad grin. “The audience agrees that your passion for music and your philanthropic endeavors are things we all admire.”

Seeing the door of her interview time slot about to shut in her face, she leaned forward, eager to convey more about her charity, how they spread awareness about their work and helped match orphaned kids with loving families.

“What I’d really love to highlight is the program’s future expansion. Our efforts helped to open a new facility six months ago. And we’ve launched a scholarship program to send older kids to different countries to study the subject of their choice.”

The host nodded, but it was clear his interest was waning. “That’s wonderful. Truly. But let’s circle back to your family—what was it like growing up with so much expectation on your shoulders?”

Juliette smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Actually, I prefer to focus on what’s ahead. My past doesn’t define me—my music does.”

Well before she was finished, the notes of her own recorded music filtered through the studio, cutting her off.

The interview wrapped up with the usual polite applause, and she thanked the host with the same careful smile. But by the time she made it to the green room, she could barely keep her frustration from boiling over.

She strode inside, yanking a bobby pin from her bun and tossing it onto the coffee table.

“God,” she muttered. “Why do they always act like I should be apologizing for not being more of a scandal?”

Her team surrounded her, reassuring her with all the same words she’d heard before from them. Nothing truly ever changed.

Except now she felt the silent presence of her new bodyguard. Theo was posted in front of the door, watching her.

And making her more aware of how hard she was clenching her fists.

Suddenly, the anger that had been simmering since her team decided to make a huge deal out of a little bug accidentally crawling into a bouquet boiled over.

Theo didn’t shift his attention from her now, and he hadn’t the entire time she was on that stage.

The man was a distraction Juliette did not need.

Of course Camden Kline had picked up on how intensely Theo stared at her.

And she definitely didn’t need people spreading rumors about something going on between them.

As if she would ever be with a man like Theo. She wanted him gone, out of her life forever.

Too bad if she fired the bodyguard, Henri would shut down her tour.

She looked straight at Theo. He hadn’t moved an inch—arms folded, jaw tight, a wall of muscle planted just inside the green room doorway. The kind of man who didn’t flinch even when bullets were flying. The kind who didn’t leave until the danger was gone.

If there was danger at all.

His gray eyes met hers—keen and searching. Like he could read her more deeply than she wanted to be seen.

He didn’t look away.

He didn’t blink.

The silence stretched between them with an electricity of its own.

Juliette’s heart beat a little faster, not from fear, but something far more dangerous.

They were stuck together now. Whether she believed the threat or not, whether she wanted him in her space or not. And by the look in his eyes, he wasn’t just assessing the room anymore.

He was assessing her.

She couldn’t decide if that made her feel safer—or exposed.