Page 9 of The Bodyguard’s Innocent Obsession (His Obsession #3)

Arabella

The gravel crunches beneath the tires as I pull up outside the building.

My father’s car rumbles to a stop beneath the wide stone awning of a manor house. It’s elegant, imposing. The kind of place you have to be invited to enter.

Tall marble columns frame the dark wooden doors, and not a single window reveals what lies inside. No staff. No valet. No lights. Just a heavy, eerie quiet that settles on my shoulders like a warning.

I kill the engine, but don’t move right away. My hands stay wrapped around the steering wheel as if letting go might cause everything to fall apart. My heart pounds so hard I swear the sound echoes in the confined space of the car.

I’m scared. But I’m here for my dad. And if this is the only way to keep him safe, then I’ll do whatever it takes.

I open the door and step out. The air is cool and my sneakers are far too loud against the gravel as I cross to the entrance.

I glance behind me, but there’s nothing but trees and a winding road that goes on for miles.

We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I suddenly feel very alone.

Lachlan will never be able to find me here if I need him.

When I reach the double doors, I hesitate, my fingers resting against the bronze handles. They’re unlocked.

Swallowing hard, I push one open and slip inside.

The air hits me first, cool and stale, laced with the scent of old cigars and expensive cologne. Velvet curtains hang heavy along one wall, filtering the sunlight into weak, dusty shafts. Mahogany paneling gleams faintly, polished to a shine that seems unnatural.

The place is completely deserted.

I take a few cautious steps forward, the sound of my own footsteps deafening in the silence. Leather chairs line the lounge area, perfectly arranged like a stage waiting for actors to return. A low bar gleams with untouched bottles and crystal decanters.

“Hello?” I call, barely above a whisper. My voice bounces off the high ceilings and dies in the emptiness.

Then I hear a sound in one dark corner, followed by a voice.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d actually come.”

The voice slips from the shadows like smoke; smooth, calm, unsettlingly polite. It comes from somewhere just beyond the bar. I freeze, spine straightening.

A man steps into view, and everything in me tenses.

He’s tall. Immaculately dressed in a navy suit that looks like it costs more than my entire wardrobe. Silver cufflinks glint at his wrists. His dark blond hair is swept neatly back, and his smile... it’s the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes.

I stiffen. “Where’s my father?”

His smile doesn’t waver. “Still in D.C., last I heard. Perfectly safe… for now.”

My stomach drops.

“What?” I breathe, already knowing the answer. “You said... You told me...”

“I told you what I had to,” he says smoothly, stepping forward into the soft light filtering through the velvet curtains. “And you came. That’s all that matters.”

It takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, it hits me like ice water down my spine.

There was never any hostage. This was never a rescue mission.

It was a trap.

I grit my teeth. “Why?”

His expression shifts to something not quite amused, not quite angry. Something colder. Like I’m a piece of business paperwork that annoyed him by needing attention.

“Because your father doesn’t understand how the world works.

” He begins pacing slowly, like we’re discussing politics over scotch instead of my kidnapping.

“He thinks he’s some kind of hero. That this housing bill will fix the world.

Level the playing field. Make homes affordable.

” He spits the word like it’s vulgar. “Do you know what that does to people like me?”

“No,” I snap. “And I don’t care.”

That earns me a chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart. You should care. Because people like me are the ones who built all of this.” He gestures vaguely to the luxury around us; to the velvet curtains, the gleaming floors, the hush of old money soaked into every polished surface.

“I earned my fortune, but your daddy wants to gut the market. Limit ownership. Cap profits. He calls it justice. I call it theft.”

He steps closer. Too close.

I take a slow step back, angling toward the bar.

“And now,” he continues, “he has a choice. He drops the bill, or he loses the only thing he truly loves in the world. You.”

My pulse hammers. “You’re insane.”

“I’m practical. And you are leverage.”

He keeps moving toward me, and I keep backing up, one step at a time, until the smooth wood of the bar presses against my back. His presence is a wall in front of me now. Trapping me.

His voice softens, sinister. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But idealists never learn until someone shatters their illusions. I tried to talk to your father. He refused. So now he can feel what it’s like to lose something precious. Then maybe he’ll learn his place.”

His words chill me. This is not a man. It’s a snake. A monster.

I glance down, heart pounding. A crystal decanter sits beside me, half-filled with amber liquid. I can see my reflection in it. Wide eyes, parted lips, every inch of me coiled tight.

Maybe I have a chance.

He leans in, like he’s about to deliver some final, chilling threat...

And I grab the decanter and smash it against the side of his head.

Glass shatters and the amber liquid spills everywhere. He stumbles back with a shout, clutching the side of his skull, blood already blooming between his fingers.

I don’t wait.

I bolt.

My sneakers skid on the polished floor as I sprint toward the front doors, adrenaline surging, my breath coming in fast, wild gasps.

But before I make it five steps, movement slams into me.

Two men in suits step through the doorway, big, broad and silent. I scream and fight, kicking, clawing, but they grab me like I weigh nothing and drag me back towards the center of the room.

Lucien is standing again, one hand still at his head, blood trickling down his temple. His expression has completely changed.

Gone is the smug, polished veneer.

What’s left is fury.

“That,” he growls, voice low and shaking, “was a mistake, sweetheart. One you won’t get to make again.”

He takes a step towards me. And then...

The front doors burst open with a thunderous crack, the echo ricocheting through the cavernous room like gunfire.

“Police! Hands where I can see them!”

Chaos explodes all at once.

Voices shout. Footsteps pound against the polished floors. Light floods the dim space as uniformed officers pour in, weapons raised, commanding everyone to the ground.

And then I see Lachlan.

He storms through the chaos like a force of nature. He’s taller, broader, and his eyes are locked on me like I’m the only thing that matters. His weapon is drawn, but it’s the look on his face that nearly brings me to my knees: raw fury mixed with terror.

The two men holding me release their grip and throw their hands in the air, dropping to their knees as the police descend on them. One officer tackles the man to my right, slamming him down and cuffing him.

Lucien steps back, smoothing his bloody sleeve with forced calm. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” he says coldly. “This won’t end the way you think it will.”

But the only thing that answers him is the cold click of cuffs around his wrists as a cop steps in, shoving his arms behind his back.

“You have the right to remain silent...”

Lachlan’s already at my side. His arms wrap around me in an instant, solid and sure, anchoring me like a storm has just passed, and he’s the only shelter left in the world. I let out a shaky breath and press my face to his chest, trembling from head to toe.

His hand cups the back of my head, holding me close.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice low and fierce. “I’ve got you, princess. You’re safe now.”

I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.

But all I can think, over and over, as his heart pounds against my ear, is... he came for me.

He really came for me.