Page 114 of Missile Strike

Three threats.

Three unknowns.

With Bella in the middle of it all.

A soft hand twined with his. “Tell me it’s going to be okay.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t attend.”

Her jaw slackened. “The gala?”

He nodded. “I can stash you somewhere safe. Assign an agent until the gala—”

She squeezed his hand, cutting him off.

“I won’t run.” Her pulse raced beneath his fingers, but she kept her gaze steady. “If my parents are there, then so am I.”

“Bella—”

“No, Danny. Are you advising my father to cancel the event?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Then you won’t do to me what my father has always done.”

Shit. His eyes closed as her words hit him square in the chest.

“I’ve put too much work into the gala, and I’m going to see it through. You and your team will keep me and everyone else safe.” She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. “I trust you.”

Emotion squeezed the air from his lungs. He couldn’t tell her it would be okay, because he wasn’t one hundred percent certain it would be. And she’d see through his patented, breezy smile.

She always did.

So he said nothing, only brushed his lips across her knuckles before kissing her gently.

“Dìleas is the best there is.” That, at least, he believed. Funny how it didn’t feel like enough when his heart was in the mix.

Keeping Bella safe was the most important mission of his career.

Failure wasn’t an option.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Isabella finished applying lipstick and studied her reflection. Her makeup was heavier than usual—smoky eyeshadow, black mascara, bold mauve lips. The woman in the bathroom mirror wasn’t the same painfully shy introvert from thirteen years ago.

She wasn’t even the same woman from a week ago.

Danny had seen to that.

The dress had been a splurge—a sleek black, high-neck gown with delicate beaded pink tulips and long green stems spreading from the sheer neckline down the bodice to her waist. Talia had picked it out, insisting it was perfect for her. Her hair was in a low French roll, accented with two crystal hair combs. Peridot earrings that matched the green on her dress hung from her ears.

Danny filled the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame. The cut of his black tuxedo emphasized his broad shoulders and trim waist. His shaggy hair had been tamed to smoothness and gathered behind his head.

Their eyes locked in the mirror.

He was so incredibly handsome—her pulse stuttered.

His blue eyes darkened as his gaze traveled the length of her dress. “Stunning.”