Page 99 of The Forbidden Bodyguard

His little squeezes are more for his reassurance than mine, I’m sure of it. I am safe with him.

My very own Navy SEAL.

My very own bodyguard.

Although I won’t need one soon. I’m selling the penthouse, and the agent thinks he has a buyer.

I want to leave New York, but Declan has just started a new job. He’s been clear that while he can get his head around my wealth, he still wants to live a normal life.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” I told him. “It’s why I became an author.”

“Then where would you want to live?”

“I was going to run away to an island and see if you’d come with me,” I grinned while making us breakfast one morning. “Before I went to Dad's.”

“Fuck, Stella. Why didn’t you?”

I lifted a shoulder and kept buttering the toast. “You know why. I should have let him die.”

“Hey.” He took my hand, coming up behind me. “You were manipulated in the worst way. Don’t make yourself wrong for being a loving and kind person.”

He gently turned me, dropping the knife on the board, then cupped my face.

“I should have told you. That night the boys were here.”

I did a little laugh when he refrained from agreeing with me.

“Well, we are here now, and you are safe. And mine,” Declan said...for the millionth time. “So, guess I should tell you I also had a fantasy about kidnapping you and hiding away on some island.”

I chuckled. “Really?”

“Yes,” he nodded, running his hands over my cheek. “Me tending bar, you writing your books naked—”

I slapped his chest.

“Fine, in a bikini. Our kids running around.”

“Kids?” I grinned.

“Four of them.”

“My God!” I laughed. “Let’s start with two.”

Those words of his have been rattling around in my mind for days, and now that I know the penthouse is going to sell, we need to think about our next steps.

Declan is my future; I know that.

The painting I gifted him hangs in the hallway, almost like a bridge between us. That moment opened us up and feels like the start of our lives merging. Perhaps it was his father nudging us together.

Charlotte loves him.

She visited a few days after the shooting and wasted no time running across the living room, diving on me. “Stella. Never ever, ever do that again.”

“She’s not marrying anyone else. Don’t worry,” Declan said from behind.

“Char, meet Declan. He’s...not my bodyguard.”

“FBI?” she asked.