“Mackenzi,” my father starts sharply, finally noticing I’ve entered the room, “you really shouldn’t be here for this.”
I stiffen immediately, annoyance flashing hot beneath my ribs. Apparently, being old enough to have your life threatened by a cartel doesn’t mean you aren’ttoo delicateto hear the adults discuss it. Without responding, I set my untouched plate down harder than necessary and turn toward the doorway.
I barely make it two steps before Damon gently catches me, the contact causing me to stop in my tracks. His fingers slide down the inside of my wrist, brushing against my palm in a touch subtle enough that nobody else seems to notice, but intimate enough to completely derail my heart. I swallow hard as my eyes dart toward him.
“Actually,” Damon states calmly behind me, “she should stay. This affects her, too.” The kitchen quiets slightly, and I squeeze at the fingers still lingering against my palm, because no one ever stands up for me like that.
My father studies Damon for a long moment before exhaling, “Fine.”
Victory flickers briefly through Damon’s eyes before he guides me gently toward the island. His fingers slide from my wrist into my hand fully this time, beneath the edge of the countertop where no one else can see as I take a seat beside him. The hidden intimacy of it nearly destroys me as the meeting resumes, the room completely oblivious around us.
“…ambassador’s political summit was moved forward,” Hawk explains. “Three-day minimum attendance. Now looking more like five.”
My father nods once grimly. “I’ll leave the day after tomorrow to keep it as short as possible.”
“And Mackenzi?” Gunnar asks, silence settling briefly on the group as all eyes drift toward me.
“We could move her with the ambassador’s team,” one of the Marines offers. “Secure hotel floor. Additional detail?—”
“No,” Damon declares, interrupting, his tone firm and absolute, and I’m thankful when every eye in the room shifts from me to him. “With our current staffing?” Damon continues evenly, his jaw tightening slightly. “Protecting her off-site creates more vulnerabilities than her staying here. Hotels mean public exposure, multiple access points, and unpredictable civilians. She’s not the primary asset. There is no reason for her to attend the summit. She’ll be safer at the residence.”
I’m the only one who hears what he’s actually saying:She’s safer here, alone with me.
Hawk lifts his chin slowly after a moment. “He’s right.”
My father looks irritated and unconvinced, leaving me surprised when he says, “Fine… She stays.”
I stop breathing for a second when I realize that means my father will be gone and I’ll be here with Damon. Not alone, exactly. With a whole Marine detachment on the grounds and staff working in the residence, no one is ever actuallyalone here. Beneath the counter, Damon’s fingers stroke slowly along my thigh, as though he can read my thoughts, and I nearly choke on my coffee.
The meeting drones onward around us—routes, threat assessments, and travel plans—but I’d be surprised if I absorbed more than ten percent of it. My thoughts are completely derailed by Damon’s fingers dusting over my skin. The tiny, secret touches go unnoticed to everyone else, but every single one wrecks me a little. By the time the morning briefingfinallyends, my nerves are stretched thin.
Chairs scrape across the tile as everyone starts filtering from the kitchen in small groups, the Marines retreating totheir posts, and Hawk and Gunnar to the command center. Jagger lingers, looking at Damon standing suspiciously close to me, before a grin spreads slowly across his face. He points between us vaguely. “So… this is athingnow?”
“Leave,” Damon states flatly.
Jagger grins wider. “Oh, he’s protective.”
“Jagger.”
“I’m going!” He laughs, backing toward the hallway. “But for the record, this is the best thing that’s happened tomeall month.”
His departure leaves just me and Damon in the kitchen, and the sudden privacy makes me anxious. I stare into my coffee cup as nervous energy buzzes beneath my skin. “I…” My voice catches embarrassingly. “I don’t really know how to do this.”
Damon leans lightly against the counter beside me. “Do what?”
“This.” I gesture vaguely between us. “Whateverthisis now.” His expression softens almost immediately.God, that look is going to ruin my life.“I’ve never…” I exhale shakily.
“You had a boyfriend, didn’t you?”
“But we never…” I stammer, for the first time in my life, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know what to do now. After last night… I’m bad at this.”
“You’re not bad at anything.”
A weak laugh slips out of me. “That’s objectively untrue.”
One corner of his mouth twitches upward as he eases closer. “I’ve got you, trouble.” I look up at him slowly, and his gaze stays steady on mine. His eyes are dark, but calm and certain. It’s like he already knows exactly what I need, even when I don’t. “Just be you.”
I fidget, pulling the baggy sleeves of my shirt over my hands, because in some weird way, his request feels more intimate than half the things that happened between us last night. There are no expectations or the need to perform for him. I don’t need to pretend to be less or convince myself I’m prettier so I’m easier to love.
