Page 13 of Protected By the Billionaire Ex-SEAL

Maybe, maybe not. I recall how things quickly got heated between us, the attraction a tidal wave that swept us up in a frenzy. The memory alone stirs my cock, but the reminder of the aftermath and a distant past washes a coldness over my body in an instant.

If I had known she was going to be my client, would I have slept with her?

Hard no. Hell, no.

Getting involved with a client is always a mistake, no matter how one looks at it.

And yet, I still feel betrayed. No, not betrayed. Raven’s right; she didn’t owe me an explanation, just like I didn’t owe her one. But I should’ve pushed for one anyway. I should’ve asked why she was in town and staying in a motel. For the first time, I ignored my instincts to get all the information before jumping into something and this is what happens.

I know, rationally, that she didn’t do anything wrong. But the protective side of me is angry that she would go home with someone she doesn’t know with a stalker ex on the loose. Even if that someone is me.

I try to imagine my sister, Clara, in this situation and the protective instinct arises in me and makes me irrational. And that’s how I know that I’m already too emotionally involved. Raven is a client, nothing more.

Because I have no choice now, I push it out of my mind and focus on the task at hand: prepping my house for the new resident coming soon. It still has my sister’s homey touches from when she lived here before I bought it, and I’ve never really gotten around to making it look like my own yet. I suppose that’s fine because at least it makes me feel like Clara is still here when I barely see her due to our hectic schedules.

She’s a full-time songwriter now, a dream she’s had since childhood, and I’ve never been prouder.

I’ve just deposited the basket of hygiene products in the spare room when the doorbell rings. My shoulders tense, so I will them to relax before I saunter over to open the door.

As soon as I see Raven, it’s like a punch to the gut right away, much as it had been the last few times. She’s wearing a plain white top and denim shorts, and her curls are loose around her shoulders and framing her face. Nothing special.

But the desire still tightens my stomach before I stomp it into non-existence.

Client, I remind myself.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Come on in.”

I help her with her bags, which isn’t much. She stands in the living room and looks around, surprise lining her features when she sees the feminine touches.

“It was my sister’s before it was mine. I bought it from her when she got married and moved in with her husband.”

“Oh. Okay.”

An awkward tension hums between us. Normally, I know my way around tensions and am the first to break it, used to doing so since my sister used to be shy and my best friend used to be a moody recluse. But I don’t have words of comfort here, not when it’s obvious she’ll just spit them in my face.

So, I go the professional route.

“There are some ground rules.”

“I’m sure there are.”

My back goes up at her tone. “It’s necessary. And a part of the protection program.”

“Right.” She shrugs. “Hit me with it.”

“The moment I bought this house, I updated the security system and have special locks, especially for when we are inside the house. You need to memorize everything so that you will know how to lock up the house yourself in case of an emergency.”

“Sounds good. I will.”

“You will be given a phone. You will take it with you wherever you go and it will be your lifeline.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll also teach you how to use basic weapons, like a knife or even a screwdriver. Everything can be a weapon as long as you know how to use it, and you need to familiarize yourself with what can be used as one in this house.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

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