Page 45 of Prized Possession

She nods, though I catch the way her nose wrinkles like she’s just smelled something bad. “As they’re still assigned to me, I can just call them whenever I need to leave.”

I shake my head rapidly. “No, absolutely not. You’ll have to use my guards.”

Her fork is almost in her mouth and she pauses, looking at me in confusion. “What? Why?”

“While you’re here with me, you’re under my protection, which means you have to use my staff.”

“But I know my guards, they’ve been protecting me for years,” she replies, her food now long forgotten as she stares at me with those fierce silvereyes.

“Look, those guards are loyal to your father, and I can’t trust them,” I reply calmly, feeling the tension in the room growing, just the way I thought it would.

She shakes her head, disbelieving. “My father would never let anything happen to me. He needs me, remember?”

I grit my teeth, hating her casual mention of her engagement responsibilities. “We have pissed a lot of people off by doing this, and that puts a target on both our backs. I don’t trust anyone, even your father. Everyone in my world is opportunistic, and if the right scenario presents itself, your safety may not be someone else’s primary concern, but it always will be for me.”

At first, I think her features are starting to soften at the mention of me wanting to keep her safe, but then her gaze hardens once more. “What about who I trust? I don’t know your staff. How am I supposed to just trust them?”

“That’s fair,” I reply, taking a sip of my wine. “I’ve spoken to Miles, and he has a guard who used to be assigned to his sister, but she doesn’t need security right now, and he thinks it’d be a perfect fit for you.”

If the phrase “if looks could kill” was right, I’d be six fucking feet under right now. Her silver eyes are almost molten as she glares at me.

“How do you know that he’d be the perfect fit for me? I have strict rules for who I’ll let guard me, and you’ve not even bothered to fucking ask what they are.”

Her tone both angers and thrills me. Chloe is usually so meek and quiet, obeying every instruction thrown her way by her family, yet I’ve always known there was a feisty girl with a backbone in there. Seeing her use that fire on me is exciting, but fuck does it make me want to punish her for using that tone with me.

“What are your fucking rules?” I snap, my hand curling so tightly around my wine glass, I’m surprised it’s not smashed.

“I refuse to be guarded by a man.” Although she holds her head high as she says it, I don’t miss the way her voice breaks at the end, and my anger quickly dissipates, only to be replaced by confusion.

I’ve known Chloe since I was a kid, and although I’ve made sure to push her away, making it clear I’m Jake’s friend and not hers, I thought I knew her. When you grow up with someone, particularly someone who caught your attention from the first time you met, it’s hard not to notice every little thing about them.

How the fuck did I not know she won’t be guarded by a man? And more importantly, why does she feel the need to have that rule?

I think about her recent wild behaviour, and her desperate need to claw back some control in her life, and I can’t help but wonder if those things are linked. I really hope I’m putting two and two together and making five, because the alternative is fucking souldestroying.

A million things flash through my mind as I think about what to say, struggling to find the right words. It’s not hard…I just have to tell her that it’s a female guard. But that requires logical thinking, which I clearly don’t have right now.

“Who hurt you, Chloe?” I say through gritted teeth.

Her brows fly to her hairline as her eyes widen, her mouth pressed into a tight line. Her whole body becomes rigid, and when she tries to talk, no words come out, but I can hear her loud and clear.

“I-I…I mean… It’s not… No one,” she mumbles, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

I want to lean over, to place my hand on hers in a reassuring way, but her body language is screaming at how tense she is. Besides, if I touch her, I’m sure she’ll be able to feel the barely contained rage that’s making my hands shake.

“Did. Someone. Hurt. You?” I repeat, punctuating each word in a way that lets her know I’m not dropping this.

She takes a shuddered breath and her eyes become glassy with unshed tears. Although she shakes her head, saying no, it’s weak, and we both know she’s lying.

“Can we just leave it?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Is this why you’re trying to take back control? Why you were drinking too much and sleeping around? Is it all linked?” The questions tumble off my lips just as quickly as they enter my brain.

That deer-in-headlights look gets worse with each question, and I know I should be filtering them, rather than just saying the first things that come into my head, but I can’t. I’m barely holding in the rage as it is.

I’m one second away from flipping the table, grabbing my gun and shooting every guy she’s been in contact with over the last eighteen months, just to be sure I’ve got the one who hurt her.

Is that a bit overkill? Yes, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve never been possessive or protective over a girl before, but this doesn’t even feel like a choice to me. It’s like there’s a dragon inside me that’s blasting his way to the surface, determined to protect and claim revenge on what’s his. Dragons hoard treasure, and some part of me sees Chloe as mine—my treasure.

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