Page 6

Orion

What’s that old saying? If you can’t handle the heat, get out of the kitchen? Yeah, well, I practically had to run from the kitchen, because if I stayed there one second longer, watching Briar nibble on her mac and cheese and chicken nuggets like they were the best things in the world, I’d lose it. I’d practically jumped her bones right there, and that’s... not exactly professional.

It also breaks every fucking rule in my book.

However, she’s stunning in this way that’s almost too much to take. Not in the conventional sense of the word, but in that adorkable, completely irresistible way. The girl next door. There’s something about the way her eyes light up over the simplest things—like comfort food, or how she talks to her bird like he's a person. It gets to me. More than I want to admit.

I had to get out of there. Fast. The heat wasn’t just in the kitchen, it was building in me, and I needed a break.

After she started eating, that damn bird let out his usual squawk for attention. “I’m hungry!” he screeched. I swear, that bird never stops. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was trying to outcompete me for Briar’s attention. The little bastard’s always on her case, squawking this and that.

Briar didn’t miss a beat, though. She hopped up, grabbing Jeb’s food like it was second nature, as if she hadn’t just settled down to enjoy her meal. The way she multitasks, feeding both herself and Jeb with this casual, natural ease… it’s endearing. Like she’s been doing it her whole life.

Meanwhile, I made my way to my office, grateful for the distance. I need a minute. Hell, I need more than a minute. Just one second alone with my thoughts, away from the pull she has on me.

I close the door behind me and sink into my chair, running a hand through my hair. I can still hear Briar in the other room, chatting softly to Jeb as she eats, and it makes me smile despite myself. The tension in my chest loosens just a little. She doesn’t know what she does to me, how much self-control it takes to keep things professional.

But I need to keep it together. I’m here to protect her, not get caught up in whatever this is between us. I rub the back of my neck, trying to refocus. I came here to do a job, and I can’t afford to get distracted. Not by her smile, not by her infectious laugh, and definitely not by the way she looks at me like I’m her hero.

I take a deep breath, glancing at the paperwork piled on my desk, trying to get my head back in the game. But even as I try to concentrate, my mind keeps drifting back to her—to the way she makes this feel less like a job and more like... something else .

Which is dangerous.

I grab my cell and pull up Dean’s contact info, my finger hovering over his name for a second before I hit call. The phone barely rings once before he picks up, his voice coming through the line with that no-nonsense tone I’ve grown accustomed to.

“Talk to me,” he says.

Straight to the point. Typical Dean.

“Were you able to get all the background info on Jason?” I ask, leaning back in my chair, the tension in my shoulders still lingering from earlier.

“Yes. I was just putting the file together and about to email it over,” Dean replies. Efficient as ever.

“Good,” I murmur, nodding even though he can’t see me. “Thank you.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and I can hear the faint tapping of keys, probably as he finishes up the email. I rub a hand over my face, the weight of this whole situation pressing down on me. I trust Dean—his instincts are solid, and I need a second opinion to validate the gut feeling that’s been gnawing at me since I took this case.

“What do you think of this whole case?” I ask, my voice quieter now, more serious.

Dean hesitates for just a second, which is unusual for him. Normally, he’s quick to respond, but this time, it’s like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Honestly?” he asks, the weight of the question lingering in the air.

I chuckle softly, trying to lighten the mood. “No, lie to me,” I tease. “Yes, honestly.”

He lets out a short laugh, but it’s tinged with something heavier. “All right, then. Honestly? This guy Jason... he’s trouble. But not the kind of trouble that’s gonna throw hands or storm the place guns blazing. He’s more... insidious. I’ve seen guys like him before, Orion. They’re not physical right away—they wear you down, push just enough to get under your skin.”

I frown, staring at the ceiling. “So, you think he’s dangerous in a psychological way?”

“Exactly,” Dean confirms. “He’s manipulative. The kind of guy who’ll make Briar second-guess her own sanity. That’s the real danger here. He’s already done it, hasn’t he? Gotten inside her head.”

I think about Briar, about the way her nightmares started once Jason entered the picture. She tries to play it off, but I can see the toll it’s taking on her. And yeah, I’ve seen this before. Dean’s right—Jason isn’t just some typical jerk ex-boyfriend. He’s playing a long game.

“He’s already there,” I admit, sighing heavily. “She’s had nightmares. Ones where she’s running from him. It’s like he’s still haunting her, even though he’s physically not around.”

Dean’s voice softens, but there’s an edge of steel in it. “That’s what makes him dangerous. Guys like Jason? They don’t need to be in the room to mess with your head. That’s why we have to handle this carefully. I’ll keep digging, but you need to watch her closely, Orion. She’s vulnerable.”

“I know,” I say, running a hand through my hair, frustration building. “But how do we fight something like this? It’s not like I can just knock the guy out and call it a day.”

Dean chuckles, but there’s no real humor in it. “No, this is gonna take finesse. Restraining orders, evidence, paper trails... It’s all about building a case to pin him down legally. In the meantime, you keep doing what you’re doing. Protect her, make sure she feels safe. That’s half the battle.”

“I think there’s more.”

Dean pauses, before asking, “Like what? The gambling?”

“Her parents are loaded. He gambles. It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s probably got a hefty gambling debt.”

“I’m looking into that now,” Dean says, tapping more keys on his keyboard in the background. “Just keep an eye on her until we can sort this all out.”

I nod, staring at the phone, the weight of Dean’s words sinking in. “Okay. Obviously I’ll keep an eye on her. Thanks for the insight.”

“No problem,” he says, his voice firm. “We’ll take this one step at a time. Keep me updated.”

“Will do,” I say before hanging up.

I hate that this is happening to her. I hate that this dumb fuck is trying to weasel his way back into her good graces. I wish I could just knock the fucker out and call it a day. It’d be better to get her back to her place, and for me to get off this job as quickly as possible because I haven’t even known Briar for a full twenty-four hours and already I want to sink my fat cock deep inside her.

What the hell, Orion?

Absently, I grab the deck of cards lying on my desk, the smooth surface cool against my fingers. I begin shuffling them, the soft rustle of the cards offering a small comfort as I practice a few sleight-of-hand maneuvers. The repetitive motions are soothing, almost meditative, as I wait for Dean to send over the file. I focus on the cards, blocking out the nagging worry about Briar and the uncertainty of Jason’s influence on her.

Just as I’m about to try a more complex trick, there’s a soft knock at my office door.

“Come in,” I call out, not bothering to look up from my cards.

The door creaks open, and Briar steps over the threshold, her presence lighting up the dim room. “I put Jeb to bed and cleaned up the kitchen. Are you hungry?” Her voice is soft, but it carries a genuine concern that warms something inside me.

I keep shuffling the cards, trying to maintain a casual demeanor. “I’m fine,” I reply.

“What are you doing with the cards?” she asks, her curiosity piqued as she leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.

I give her a half-smile. “Magic,” I say, letting the word hang in the air like an invitation.

Briar raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Magic, huh? Like, actual magic? Or just card tricks?”

“Both, depending on how you look at it,” I respond, leaning back in my chair and fanning the cards out in front of me. “Want to see a trick?”

She steps further into the room, her skepticism giving way to enthusiasm. “Absolutely. Show me what you’ve got!”

As I demonstrate a simple card trick, her laughter fills the space, cutting through the tension that had settled in my chest. Watching her happy in something as trivial as a card trick makes me forget about Jason and the heaviness of the situation for just a moment. It’s in these small, light-hearted exchanges that I realize how much I want to keep her safe and how deep my feelings for her really run.

The atmosphere in the room shifts, and for a brief second, I allow myself to imagine a world where her smile isn’t tinged with fear. A world where we can just be.