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Orion

I stand on the front step of the Green family’s mansion, shoulders squared, my eyes scanning the lawn like I always do in a new place. Always be on guard. Always look for any threat. The late-afternoon sun casts a shine across the sprawling estate, highlighting every painstaking detail of the ornate columns and intricate ironwork. I can’t deny it—I’m a little on edge. I didn’t grow up with money, so this is all new to me. However, meeting your client’s mother is one thing; meeting a client that your highly attracted to’s mother is another.

Briar stands by my side, her arm brushing mine briefly. The contact sends a small jolt of want through me. She offers a soft smile, like she can sense my need.

“You ready?” she asks, her voice low.

I take a breath, forcing a quick nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

Before she can respond, the massive double doors swing open. A tall, silver-haired man in a sharp navy suit appears, posture as impeccable as the foyer behind him. My gaze flicks over the entryway—high ceilings, a sweeping staircase with a lush red carpet, and a crystal chandelier dripping overhead. The place screams old money and refined taste.

“Hello, sweetheart,” the man greets Briar, his lips curving into a wide smile. Then his eyes land on me, warm yet assessing. “You must be Orion.”

I extend my hand, forcing a confident grin. “Yes, sir. Orion Locke. Pleasure to meet you.”

His handshake is firm, but not confrontational. “Harold Green. Come in.” He steps aside, gesturing for us to enter. My footsteps echo on the polished marble floor as we move into the grand foyer. It feels like stepping onto a movie set.

Before I can fully take in the beauty, Briar’s mother appears from around the corner, gliding toward us in a sophisticated yet understated dress. Her hair is pinned back, revealing a face that’s strikingly similar to Briar’s. Warm green eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles.

“You must be Orion,” she says, extending a graceful hand. “I’m Minnie Green.”

The moment I clasp her hand, she gives me a quick once-over, sizing me up. I try to keep my posture relaxed, remembering that I’m here to reassure this woman that her daughter is safe with me.

And she is fucking safe with me.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure,” I say, offering my most polite tone.

Briar’s mother waves off the formality. “Please, call me Mrs. Green or Minnie—whichever you prefer.” She gestures for us to follow her deeper into the house. “Come along. Dinner’s just about ready, but I’d love to chat in the sitting room first.”

We pass through a large arched doorway into a lavish sitting room filled with antique furniture. Plush sofas in muted gold tones are arranged around a glass coffee table, and a massive fireplace occupies one wall. Oil paintings—landscapes, portraits—line the walls, each set in a gilded frame. The smell of fresh flowers mingles with the faint scent of something delicious cooking.

Briar and I take seats on one of the sofas, while Mr. and Mrs. Green settle opposite us. A maid discreetly appears, offering drinks on a silver tray. I politely decline anything alcoholic—best to keep my head clear—and Briar does the same.

“So,” Mrs. Green begins, leaning forward with an air of poised curiosity. “I’ve been in close contact with Dean, but I’m eager to hear from you directly. How exactly are you handling this... Jason situation?”

Right to the point. I admire it.

I clear my throat softly and keep my tone calm. “As Briar’s personal security, my role is to ensure she’s not in harm’s way. I’ve gone over all available information regarding her ex-boyfriend, Jason, and I’m coordinating with Dean to track any potential threats he poses. Legally, we’re securing a restraining order and collecting any evidence that might help the authorities put a stop to his behavior.”

Mrs. Green nods, her gaze flicking to Briar and then back to me. “And you have ways to... keep him from coming near her, if he tries?”

“Absolutely,” I reply. “I run regular checks on her phone, her surroundings, and keep her in my line of sight whenever possible. We’ve also discussed safe house options if it comes to that. But I’m hoping we can resolve this with minimal upheaval.”

Briar’s father rubs his chin, studying me thoughtfully. “How serious do you believe this threat is?” His voice is quiet but resolute. I sense his protective instinct for his daughter, the same instinct I have toward her now.

“Serious enough that we’re taking every precaution,” I say, meeting his gaze directly, cutting the bullshit. “I don’t believe Jason will stop harassing Briar on his own accord. He’s proven persistent.”

Mrs. Green presses her lips into a thin line. “Well, I’m just glad you’re here to keep her safe. It’s been a nightmare, worrying about her. She’s never been very good at—” She pauses, catching Briar’s eye, and corrects herself. “At reaching out for help.”

Briar flushes, but I sense she appreciates her mother’s concern more than she lets on. “I’m trying to be better about that, Mom,” she says gently.

Mrs. Green softens. “I know, dear.”

A warm tension settles over us, the weight of everything unsaid. After a moment, Mr. Green clears his throat and stands, gesturing toward another corridor. “Shall we move to the dining room? I believe dinner’s ready.”

We follow him down a hallway lined with more artwork and tall windows that overlook an immaculate garden. The dining room is just as grand, with a long mahogany table set with gleaming silverware and a centerpiece of fresh lilies.

Briar slips an arm through mine as we walk, casting me a sideways glance. I sense her gratitude in that small gesture. For all her bravado, I can tell she’s relieved I’m here to shoulder some of the parental questioning.

We take our seats—Briar and I on one side, Mr. and Mrs. Green on the other—and a couple of staff members begin to serve a decadent meal: a creamy soup, followed by roasted vegetables, seared salmon, and fluffy rolls. Briar’s eyes widen, and I can’t help but smile at her reaction. She’s definitely a mystery in all ways. How does a woman who has grown up with all of this wealth eat chicken nuggets for every meal?

As we start eating, the conversation meanders between safe topics—Briar’s work at the zoo, the weather, casual mentions of the local sports teams—before inevitably drifting back to Jason. This time, though, Mrs. Green keeps the questions gentler, as if sensing that too much talk of him will only sour the meal.

At one point, Mr. Green addresses me directly. “You must be extremely busy, Orion. I imagine Briar’s not your only case.”

I pause, placing my fork down. “For the moment, she’s my primary concern. Dean has assigned me to her until we can resolve this situation. I’m not taking on any additional clients for now.”

Mrs. Green offers a tight smile. “And that’s exactly why we hired your firm. We want someone dedicated to Briar.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, glancing at Briar. Our gazes lock for a second. There’s a flicker of warmth there—an understanding that we’re both treading carefully through this new territory. Protecting her isn’t just a job anymore, I think, but I can’t say that aloud. Not yet.

By the time dessert arrives—an impressive chocolate mousse—the tension has eased. Laughter mingles with the soft chime of silverware against plates. Briar looks more relaxed, and I catch glimpses of the playful energy I’ve seen when she’s with the birds at the zoo. Her mother and father both seem genuinely pleased, and if there was any initial skepticism about me, it appears to be fading.

When we finally stand to leave, Mr. Green shakes my hand with a reassuring nod. “You’re doing good work, Orion. I appreciate it.” His words are simple, but the sincerity is unmistakable.

Mrs. Green gives me another once-over, then leans in to press a light peck on Briar’s cheek. “Take care of yourself,” she says, and then, looking at me, adds, “Both of you. I trust you’ll keep us in the loop?”

“Of course,” I answer. “I’ll keep Dean informed, and we’ll update you as soon as we have more news.”

She smiles, and there’s relief in her eyes. “I feel better knowing you’re on the case.”

Briar and I exchange a look, a sense of shared accomplishment passing between us. We came, we dined, and we tackled the dreaded parental inquisition. As we step through the door, onto the front steps, I inhale deeply, the cool evening air wrapping around us.

Briar slips her arm through mine again, and we descend the steps together. My heart hammers in my chest, but for all the right reasons now. I can’t help thinking that maybe we’re one step closer to resolving all of this.