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I meet his flinty stare. “Crystal. But a gilded cage is still a cage.”
His expression darkens but he promptly turns away, distracted by an investor.
I don't care about Julian Montague. Or the phantom stalker. In my reckless state, I'd rather elope with the bodyguard than marry a stranger. Perhaps he'll have a handsome, dangerous air about him.
I blush at my reckless thoughts, alarmed at myself. No way am I going to have some stranger following me around all day long.
I make my way through the crowded ballroom, forcing smiles at the guests. The orchestra starts a lively new tune, but it grates on my nerves.
The cloying perfumes and sweltering heat press down on me, and I long to tear off my evening gown and run barefoot into the night. But I’m trapped by threats I can't see and obligations I never asked for.
Across the ballroom, Father catches my eye with a disapproving frown. I force my lips into a smile and feign interest in what the woman beside me is saying. But inside, my thoughts churn.
There must be a way to change Father's mind about this arranged marriage business. I cling to the words my mother whispered to me as a child.
You can achieve anything you set your mind to.
I'm not as helpless as Father believes.
On impulse, I veer toward the shadowed edges of the ballroom, away from the crowds. My heels click across marble floors until I reach the tall glass doors leading to the empty terrace.
The cool night air raises goosebumps on my bare shoulders as I step outside, a welcome respite from the stifling heat indoors. I'm being reckless. I shouldn't be out here alone with a stalker on the loose, but I need the freedom, if only for a moment.
The parking lot is nearly empty, with only a few cars still waiting for their owners. The valet stands ready to retrieve cars for departing guests.
He eyes me curiously. “Evening, miss. Can I get your car for you?”
“Oh, that's all right,” I say breezily over my shoulder. “I’m not leaving.”
I wander along the path lined with sculpted hedges, and the faint music from the ballroom fades away, replaced by the chirping of crickets. It’s peaceful out here in the shadows, but a whisper of intuition tells me I'm not alone.
In the hedge maze, I sink onto a stone bench and fiddle with the pins in my hair, craving the moment when I can take down this elaborate updo. As I massage my sore scalp, I try to ignore the creeping sense that someone is lurking in the darkness.
My breath catches at the scuff of shoes on the gravel path. I stiffen, senses on high alert as I scan the darkened garden. The fireflies blink in and out between the shadowed hedgerows, silhouetting a figure standing motionless ahead.
Should I call for help? I dismiss the notion quickly—the figure hidden in the hedges is bound to be my father’s watchdog. Curiosity wars with annoyance within me as I cross my arms over my chest.
“You may as well show yourself,” I call, my voice ringing sharply. “I know you're there.”
A tall, broad-shouldered man emerges from the shadows. Dark hair brushes the collar of his tailored suit. His chiseled features hold an arrogant confidence, while his piercing eyes bore into me, seeing more than they should.
One corner of his mouth ticks up. “Getting some air, Miss Caldwell?”
A warm sensation blooms in my stomach. Dylan Knight is not what I expected. Maybe having a bodyguard won't be the worst thing after all.
Chapter2
Dylan
Guarding Gemma ismy shot at redemption after that disastrous op in Afghanistan ended my military career. Although the shoulder injury forced me to retire from my Navy SEAL career earlier than planned, this VIP protection gig is my chance to serve, off the battlefield.
The CEO of Caldwell Estates needs one of the best to keep his daughter safe, and I aim to prove I make the cut.
Old habits die hard–I scan the elegant ballroom—cataloging entrances, exits, and potential threats with a practiced eye. Crowds make me uneasy these days. Too many variables I can't control. But securing this assignment was the opportunity I need to feel good about myself again.
So I take a slow breath, focusing my senses. Game face on, I'm ready to do my job again.
Gemma's across the room, partially blocked by pillars. She's chatting with her old man.
