Page 21 of The Forbidden Bodyguard

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Then he won’t touch you.

I fell asleep with Declan’s words playing on autopilot inside my mind like they’re a security blanket. And they are the first things I think of when I wake up.

Well, perhaps it’s the second.

First, I remember the way he looked at me, the roughness of his voice, and how much I wanted to lean into his big, muscular chest and feel him wrapping his arms around me.

How it would feel like the safest place in the world.

Strange.

But true.

I get showered and changed, then go downstairs to make a coffee. By the time I’m pouring my first cup, my phone rings.

“Morning, Dad.”

“What the hell is this?” he demands.

“Do you want to be more specific?”

“Do not get smart with me, Stella. Your security has just advised me that you fired them.”

“Hmm, mmm.” I sip my coffee. “Well, technically, I can’t fire them. They’re employed by you. I’ve simply hired my own team.”

With your money, but anyhoo.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“STELLA!” he booms, and I reduce the volume on the phone after flinching.

“I am well within my rights to have my own security,” I reply a little less confidently after being triggered by his, what I call, scary dad tone. It’s a hell of a lot scarier than your regular suburban father.

“What are you up to?” he asks, distrust lacing his words.

“I’m protecting myself!” I snap. “Just remember I’m the one saving you from, and I quote, floating in the Hudson, and if I want my own bodyguard then that’s what I’ll do.”

He’s silent, and I immediately second-guess my response and choices. As a child, when he went quiet, it never meant anything good. That same fear shimmers through me now.

Dad’s voice is low and deadly when he finally starts talking again. “Never speak those words again over the phone. If you cause any trouble, there will be consequences, Stella.”

Nice.

Talk about on-brand, Dad.

Every day since this mess began, I’ve woken up crying, knowing my future has been chosen for me. That if I refuse, I’m signing my father’s death warrant. Perhaps even mine and Mom’s. I just don’t know.

With every tear I cry, I hate him a little bit more.

When I glance up, Declan walks in and leans against the door jamb. Christ, I was hoping I’d imagined how handsome he was yesterday.

Nope. He’s ten times hotter today.

How is that possible?