Page 13

CHAPTER 13

Tristan

“We removed them all…and the tracker we found in your vehicle. He must have planted them the first time he was in your house,” I tell Mrs. Abel.

Her lashes cast a shadow over the dark circles hollowing under her eyes. She hasn’t slept a wink. The rays of daylight streaming from the windows on her face can’t conceal how drained she is.

“Thank you, Mr. Morra. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” She gets off her chair and brings a folder from her desk. “Will you walk with me, please?”

I follow her to the backyard, past the team I’ve sent for this morning that’s now swarming the house, securing all entrances and installing an adequate security system.

She regards the shrubberies and the garden seats. “Are there any cameras here?”

“Only at the doors. Nothing on this very spot.”

Her gaze still wanders restlessly, covering every corner, even the sky above.

“We’re alone, Mrs. Abel. Whatever you want to say, it’s safe with me.”

“You always seem to understand me without words.” A nervous smile twitches on her lips as she opens the folder. “I can’t thank you enough for accepting the job after how I’ve been treating you. These are the contracts, already signed by me, ready for you to countersign.”

“You? Not the publisher?”

“No. I am hiring you. You answer only to me.” She stares at me, waiting for confirmation.

“I understand, and I couldn’t agree more.”

She hands me the folder. “I added another document for you to sign, though. Please read it carefully.”

“Let me guess. Another NDA?”

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I question your integrity. I just…” She trails off when I sign the document. “You haven’t read it.”

“I am your bodyguard, Mrs. Abel. I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe and secure. Do you think a man who is prepared to take a bullet for you will hesitate to sign a piece of paper that will make you feel protected?”

She laughs under her breath.

“Something funny?”

“Blake said something similar when I asked him to sign the prenup.”

My jaw clenches. I can never win with her, can I? “I’m sorry that all the men you know are deceitful, abusive pieces of shit who want to use you, but I’m not one of them. I’m here to protect you, bound by my word and my code, not by pieces of paper and paychecks. If that’s not enough for you to trust me, consider our agreement void, ma’am.” I jab the folder in the space between us. “No need to compensate me for my time. You can keep the gear, too, as a gift from Monarca.”

I turn to leave, but she jumps in my way. “No, please. I’m sorry.”

The desperation in her voice doesn’t soothe my anger. “Me too.”

“Please.” She grabs my wrist as I step away. The way her fingers tremble around my hand lights a fuse inside me, my protective instincts on haywire.

“I don’t like to be touched, Mrs. Abel. In my line of work, even the kindest touch could pose a threat.”

Her hand drops. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? Unlike everyone else, it’s not discomfort she makes me feel. It stunned me the first time she cried on my shoulder, but I managed to ignore it. Now, she does it again, and it drags me to an uncharted territory I don’t know how to navigate.

“Please, don’t go. Tristan, I need you.”

Despite how her touch makes me feel, the way she calls me by my first name and her voice when she says she needs me compel me to stay. “Without trust, I can never protect you. Can you trust me with your life or not?”

“Yes. I can. I do.”

I sigh and nod at the folder. “Give me that back.”

A swift smile appears on her face as she does. “I feel like I need to explain the document you blindly signed. Primarily, it prohibits you and your team from disclosing any past, present and future business or personal information about me, my family and my works. It strictly and precisely states that you can’t disclose to anyone our former teacher-student relationship or reveal my real name.”

“I don’t need an NDA to know that. You almost didn’t hire me because of our former relationship.” I finish signing the contracts. “Now that I’ve proven you can trust me, can you tell me why?”

The softness she’s allowed me to witness vanishes. She gives me a look I recognize from her teaching days; the look that says I crossed a line, and there will be consequences. “How did you get that scar on your face?”

My eyes twitch for a second as the memory carves my skin fresh. “That’s… I don’t see how my past injuries can be relevant to my question.”

“Not all of us can wear our scars on our faces. We may trust others with our lives but not with the secrets behind the deepest cuts that can’t heal without leaving their marks. When you trust me enough to tell me how you got yours, I’ll tell you about mine.”