Confusion flickers softly across her face, and I slide my thumb along her cheek slowly.
“You deserve better than rushing because we’re trying not to get caught.” My voice lowers further. “And when it happens… I want to know we’re alone. I want to be able to take my time with you. Worship you the way you deserve.”
The breath leaves her quietly, and crimson floods her cheeks, and somehow, it makes her even morebeautiful.
“When I finally have you like that, trouble, I want all your attention on me, not whether someone’s about to knock on the damn door. You deserve a night neither of us has to cut short, because I want to make sure it’s unforgettable for all the right reasons.”
The embassy is bustling in preparation for my father’s departure. Marines move through the foyer, carrying equipment cases, while radios crackle constantly from clipped tactical vests as security teams rotate in coordinated patterns across the grounds. A caravan of black SUVs idles in a line near the circular drive, engines humming softly beneath the gray afternoon sky.
Storm clouds gather low overhead, turning everything silver and heavy. I stand near the front entrance, twisting the ring on my finger anxiously while my father finishes speaking with Hawk near the doorway. Their voices stay low and serious, words like “perimeter,” “convoy,” and “checkpoints” drifting through the room in fragments that only tighten the knot in my stomach.
This isn’t just overprotective paranoia; this is real. Real enough that my father needs an armed convoy to attend political meetings.
Dad finally turns toward me, exhaustion pulling heavily at the corners of his face. He looks older lately, the past few weeks having carved stress directly into him.
“Call me every night,” he insists.
I huff softly. “You’re literally leaving me with an entire military operation.”
“Call me, anyway.” Despite everything we’ve been through, how strained our relationship can be, warmth flickers quietly through my chest. I step closer while he adjusts the collar of my shirt like he used to when I was growing up. “You’ll stay inside the residence unless Damon or Gunnar clears it first,” he continues.
“Yes, Dad.”
“And no wandering into restricted areas.”
“That happenedonetime.”
“One time too many.” I roll my eyes softly, and his expression softens slightly. “Be good for them.”
My eyes betray me, flicking briefly over Dad’s shoulder toward Damon, standing several feet behind us near the door, and heat creeps up the back of my neck. His gaze catches mine immediately, and warmth flashes in places it shouldn’t while I talk to my father. “I plan to be,” I muster.
Dad exhales heavily before pulling me into a hug, arms wrapping tightly around me for several long seconds. “I hate leaving you during this.”
I close my eyes briefly against his shoulder. “I know.”
“Your mother would lose her mind if she were still here.”
The mention of her still hurts. I swallow hard and hug him tighter. “Be careful.”
His hand smooths once over my hair before he finally steps back. The moment I’m out of his embrace, security teams start readying to leave. A Marine opens the front door for him while radios confirm their departure.
Dad gives me one final look before disappearing into the storm-gray afternoon, his motorcade pulling away minutes later. The black SUVs disappear beyond the iron gates beneath the drizzling rain. I stand near the doorway watching until the last vehicle is out of sight.
I close the heavy front door with a deep echoing thud that reverberates across the otherwise silent foyer. As I turn around, my heartbeat stumbles when I nearly collide with Damon, not realizing he was so close. The look in his eyes immediately sends a rush of warmth racing down my spine, the air between us shifting now that we’re alone.Or as alone as two people can be inside a heavily guarded diplomatic embassy crawling with Marines.
Damon closes the tiny bit of distance between us, wrapping his arms around my waist before pulling me against him hard enough to steal my breath away.
“Oh,” I gasp softly, my palms flatteningagainst his chest as he backs me toward the wall near the foyer archway, his broad body pressing close enough for his warmth to radiate through both our clothes.
Every nerve ending in my body sparks awake as his hand slides beneath my jaw gently, his fingers curling under my chin while he tips my face upward toward him. My pulse goes feral, expecting him to kiss me again. The anticipationalone nearly incinerates me. His eyes narrow slightly, and he asks, “Did you skip lunch?”
I blink, my entire brain malfunctioning because I clearly just lost my ability to comprehend English.We’re finally alone, and he’s asking me about… lunch?
“Yes,” I admit cautiously. “I was busy studying, and I wasn’t hungry anyway.”
Damon’s jaw tightens, the muscles ticking beneath his jaw before he steps back from me.
“Come on.” He turns and begins walking toward the kitchen.
