Page 7 of The Protection Agreement

Ice had interrupted my thoughts then.

“What’s the plan boss? It seems whoever is after her knows she’s here.”

“This feels like someone close to Jonah. It’s probably why Jonah sent her to me,” I say, which means we need to tighten security around her and keep information about her to a very small circle. “Have Malik hack the security and penetrate that last unit. I need the info on the Amrit guy that died; everything we can get on him and their movements before the attack,” I state my commands.

“Yes, boss. So, she’s going to be staying here?” he questioned.

I sense he doesn’t like the idea, but we agreed to protect her. I’m not leaving her. Period.

“Yes, this is the only building I can confidently keep her safe in,” I stated, trying not to snap at him.

“We have other buildings that we can secure and still have around the clock watch on her,” he reminds.

“She stays here,” I answer, making a huge effort not to turn it into a command.

“Are you sure about this?” he questions again.

“Without a doubt,” I snap.

He nods and steps back, finally getting the message.

“What about her work in three weeks?” he reminds with a sly tone.

Fuck! I forgot about that.

“I don’t think it’s advisable for her to go in, but get me all the information and let’s see what we can unravel.”

“Got it, boss,” he acquiesces before leaving to carry out my instructions, and I proceed to check on her food with Chef Wayne. He has made rice with broccoli and grilled chicken for her. I tell him to set the table so I can eat with her. I’m not hungry, but she mentioned not eating on the plane and I’m guessing she feared being poisoned. If we eat together, she can trust that she’s safe here. I send an encrypted message to Jonah, letting him know the unit is compromised and she’ll be staying with me. I then returned to knock on her door. She’d opened, wearing leggings, oversized male shirt and socks.

A pang of unexpected jealousy shoots through me seeing her in another man's shirt. Probably Jonah’s or some boyfriend that I do not want to know about. Why the fuck am I jealous of her wearing another man’s shirt? I just fucking met her, yet the feeling of possession is strong.

She is Jonah’s girl, I remind myself. Until she returns to him, she won’t wear another man’s shirt in my domain.

“Do you have extra clothes?” I ask.

“No, just this. The plan was to shop when I got here.” Her voice is low and steady, not shaky.

“I’ll get you some shirts to wear. Why don’t you keep your spare clothes in your backpack and tomorrow I’ll have someone bring items over for you to shop?”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Wait here, I’ll bring you extra shirts.”

She nods and goes to sit on the edge of the bed. I race to my room and pull out two of my T-shirts and two long-sleeved shirts for her.

“Here you go,” I say, giving the items to her. “Come to the kitchen after you’ve changed. The table is set.”

She nods. I close the door. A few minutes later, she’s out, wearing one of my T-shirts. Weirdly, I’m pleased. She looks better, but tired.

She takes a seat at the table. I gently nudge her to serve her food; she does and begins to eat. Silence is heavy between us. I continue to eat, discreetly admiring her beauty. Her oval-shaped face is framed by ten cornrows running straight back, light brown eyes with long lashes fluttering over profound sadness. I experienced a spark when our eyes locked in the car. Her narrow nose and full lips sit in perfect symmetry on her oval face with caramel brown skin; however, I’ve only witnessed her tears, her sadness, and an overwhelming fear that pierces my soul. Her innocence ignites my protective instincts.

Why do I feel vested beyond normal for her safety?

She’s Jonah’s girl.

Why do I feel a connection to her? And I know she felt it too.

She’s Jonah’s girl.