Page 31 of Bound to the Bodyguard

“Always,” he confirmed, his voice tinged with the pride of a calling deeply felt. “To serve, to protect—it gave me purpose.”

“And now? As a bodyguard?”

His lips quirked in a semblance of a smile. “Different battlefield. Same purpose. Keeping people safe is what I do.”

“Like a knight in modern armor.”

“Something like that,” he conceded.

“Thank you for sharing. For staying.”

“Always,” he replied, his promise hanging between us like a vow.

I leaned back against the headboard, tucking one leg under the other as I studied Jerome. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, a testament to his guarded ease.

“Jerome, did you know you’re quite the mysterious figure?” My voice danced into the air, a playful note underlining my words. I watched as his eyes flicked up to meet mine, a silent challenge sparking between us.

“Is that right?”

“Absolutely.” My fingers trailed along the edge of the blanket, movements deliberate and teasing. “For all I know, you could be a secret agent with a penchant for rescuing damsels in distress.”

“Secret agent, huh?” There was a twinkle in Jerome’s eye now, one that made my heartbeat quicken just a fraction. “Well, if I told you, then it wouldn’t be much of a secret.”

“True, but a girl can dream.”

“You are no damsel. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

The man was tugging at the barriers around my heart.

Chapter 20

Jerome

The cacophony of the studio lot was music to industry veterans—a symphony of shouts, the clack of the slate, and the persistent murmur of background actors rehearsing lines. Through it all, Raven Fields moved with grace. The late afternoon sun spotlighting her as she prepared for the next take.

“Quiet on set!” the director called out, and like an ensemble at rest, the bustling lot fell silent, awaiting the conductor’s baton.

“Action!”

I watched from the sidelines, my vigilant eyes scanning the perimeter even as I admired Raven’s performance. My instincts were honed to perfection. I could spot trouble in the way a person shifted their weight or narrowed their eyes.

And there—across the lot, leaning against the fake facade of a storefront—a guy stood out like a sore thumb. Not because of his ordinary looks, plain features nestled under a nondescript cap, but because of the intensity that radiated from him. His eyes, dark and unblinking, were fixed on Raven with the kind of focus that sent a chill down my spine.

“Cut! That’s perfect, Raven,” the director praised, snapping me back to the present as applause erupted around me.

“Thanks, Brian,” Raven’s voice cut through the chatter, her confidence never wavering even as she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “I think we nailed it.”

“Absolutely,” I muttered under my breath, eyes still locked on the figure who now seemed to realize I’d attracted unwanted attention. The man’s stance stiffened, and my gaze darted away, but not before I caught the subtle clench of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

“Something wrong?” Raven asked, catching up to me, who hadn’t realized I’d started moving toward the mysterious watcher.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” I replied, my protective nature flaring despite my best efforts to keep it under wraps. “Just need to check on something.”

Raven observed me for a moment, her expressive eyes searching my face.

His stride was purposeful as I made my way through the sea of equipment and crew members. But the guy had vanished, melting into the crowd as effectively as a shadow at dusk.

My hand instinctively rested on the concealed weapon at my hip, a habit from my years in service. The guy might have disappeared for now, but my gut told him this wouldn’t be the last time I would see that intense gaze fixated on Raven Fields. And I would be ready.

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