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I opt for a half-truth. "Just some crazy fan mail. Don't worry about it."
She frowns. "What kind of fan mail?"
"It's not a big deal." I squeeze her hand reassuringly. "I'll take care of it. I just need you to be extra careful, okay? No going anywhere alone for now."
Fear flickers across her face. "Maverick, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
I sigh. "It's going to be okay. I promise. I won't let anyone hurt you."
She trembles, and my chest aches. My strong, vibrant Willow, so small and fragile now.
And that infuriates me. Barnes wants a war? He's got one. And I won't stop until Willow is safe once more.
Willow takes a step toward me and searches my face with those piercing green eyes of hers, those eyes that haunt my dreams every night and leave me aching with a permanent hard-on. "Tell me the truth, Maverick. Please."
I hesitate, then decide she needs to know. "Someone's been sending threatening messages. Gifts too—dead flowers, torn up photos of you. It's clear the intent is to frighten you."
Her face pales. "Who would do something like that? Why me?"
"I don't everything yet, but I intend to find out." I cup her cheek. I'm breaking every rule I made. No touching the clients. No getting too close. No telling the clients more than they need to know.
But this is Willow, and I can't help myself. All my rules go out the window when it comes to her. I tell Willow everything I do know about the situation because I feel like she deserves to hear it, and I know she'd want to.
She sits stoically, her face pale as I finish my delivery and rush to reassure her, "Willow, listen to me. I know you're scared, but I promise I will keep you safe. No one is getting near you."
She blinks back tears. "I don't understand. I've never done anything to anyone. All I want is to bring people happiness through my music"
"Hey," I tilt her chin up. "This changes nothing. Don't let some psycho frighten you away from living your dream. You're stronger than that."
Willow nods, a spark of determination in her eyes. "You're right. I can't let this stop me. Fuck Vincent Barnes."
"That's my girl." I smile. "Now go out there and show them what you're made of."
She grins and pulls me in for a fierce hug. I'm shocked, but there's no way in hell I'm going to turn down this opportunity. I wrap my arms around her tiny form and marvel at just how perfect she feels in my arms.
And as I hold her, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, a surge of protectiveness washes over me. I've never felt this way about a client before.
But Willow isn't just a client. And I'll be damned if I let anyone lay a hand on her.
* * *
After I've seen Willow safely to her room and make sure plenty of men are stationed outside it, I retreat to my office, closing the door firmly behind me. Time to get to work.
I boot up my computer and pull up the files on this "Vincent Barnes." There's precious little to go on—no employment records, address history, or family ties that I can find. It's as if this man appeared out of thin air.
Leaning back in my chair, I rub my temples. Who is this ghost? And what does he want with Willow?
I flip through the photographs and disturbing "gifts" he's sent. Each item radiates menace, meant to terrorize and intimidate. Vincent wants power over her. He craves control.
A hard knot forms in my gut. I've seen this before with obsessed fans—the ones who believe they "own" the object of their affection. Willow is in real danger.
Outside my office, I hear her sweet voice trilling out a new song during rehearsal. The melodic tones contrast sharply with the dark thoughts occupying my mind. I have to end this threat before it steals that light from her forever.
Picking up my phone, I start calling in favors from old contacts. Someone out there knows this Vincent Barnes. And I'm going to dig up every scrap of dirt on him until I find a way to stop him for good. Willow's counting on me.
The shadows grow long as afternoon fades to dusk. An ominous weight presses down on me. But I won't rest until Willow is safe. I made her a promise—one I intend to keep, no matter what secrets lurk in Vincent's past. She will not become another victim. Not on my watch.
CHAPTERSEVEN
