Page 15 of Bound to the Bodyguard

“Fine,” I snapped, slamming the receiver down with more force than necessary. I leaned back against the desk, breath coming in shallow drafts. The room seemed colder, the shadows lurking in the corners taking on a menacing quality.

Get a grip. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and then opened them. My gaze fell upon my reflection in the window. The strong-willed, resilient woman staring back at me looked unruffled, but I knew better.

“Whoever you are, you won’t win.”

As I turned away from the glass, a silhouette etched against the fading light, the resolve etched into my features belied the creeping dread that wound its way through my veins. I paced the length of the office, each stride echoing off the marble floor like a metronome ticking away my composure. My phone sat on the desk, a sleek black obelisk that seemed to pulsate with malevolent intent. I could feel its weight in the room, a silent demand for my attention.

My thoughts were a whirlwind, a tumultuous debate between vulnerability and valor. Trust was a currency I’d learned to spend sparingly, and now the cost of it gnawed at my conscience.

Damn it. I braced my hands against the cool surface of the desk. The phone rang again, shattering the stillness of the room. I snatched the receiver, pulse hammering in my ears. “What do you want?” I snapped, but once more, only silence greeted me. “Talk to me!”

The calls kept coming, relentless as waves against the shore, eroding my resolve. Each time I answered, the silence on the other end was a confirmation. Someone was watching. Waiting. Testing.

“Is this how you get your thrills? You think you can scare me into submission?”

But bravado was a thin veil, and beneath it, my certainty wavered. The game changed; the rules were unfamiliar, and I was no longer certain I held any cards at all.

“Fine. I’ll play along, but on my terms.”

I hung up the phone with a decisive click, mind made up. There would be no more hiding from the truth, no more solitary battles. Tomorrow I would call the police, break down the walls I’d built so carefully. But tonight, I’d stand watch, a sentinel in my home, guarding against the unknown.

My fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the glass surface of the sleek office desk, the echo bouncing off the minimalist decor of the room.

Jerome was in the shower, but I didn’t want to barge in on him. Did they know I was alone? When I heard the bathroom door open and shut, I knocked on his door.

“I got more calls.”

It took a second for a response. “I’m getting dressed and then I’ll do a sweep. Be out in a sec.”

My fingers danced over the keys of the laptop, typing out an email I’d been procrastinating on all morning while he did his check. The silence of the spacious office was a welcome respite from the chaos that had become my life.

“I’ve completed the initial perimeter check. You have a robust security system, but there are some blind spots we need to address.”

As if on cue, the shrill ring of my personal phone shattered the calm atmosphere. With a sigh, I glanced at the caller ID—unknown number. Again. I braced myself and answered, “This is Raven.”

Jerome watched, his gaze sharp and assessing as he stood in the doorway.

“Hello, pretty bird,” the distorted voice cooed, sending a chill down my spine. “You look ravishing in that silk blouse. Powder blue, isn’t it? And those lace-trimmed ivory panties—delicate, just like you.”

My breath hitched, composure faltering. The caller knew what I was wearing. How? My eyes darted to the windows, then to Jerome, whose expression morphed into one of deep concern.

“Who is this?”

“Shhh...” the voice whispered before the line went dead.

Jerome stepped forward. “Was it another call?”

“Describing my clothes, Jerome.” My hands trembled as I set down the phone. “Down to my underwear.”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, the stoic shield cracked, revealing a flash of anger. “This is serious. Your stalker has eyes on you, possibly inside the house. We need to act now.”

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t a prank or a misguided fan. It was someone watching my every move. The walls around me felt like they were closing in, and suddenly, the mansion didn’t seem so luxurious—it felt like a gilded cage.

Chapter 10

Jerome

Raven looked so peaceful in the living room, legs crossed, reading a book, but we needed to face this head-on.

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