Page 44 of Guarded King

With a nod, I stride to the entry. I pull the door open quickly, but as I turn back, I realize how unnecessary my haste is. From how slowly and stiffly Rick is moving, and how much he’s leaning on his daughter, walking must be painful too.

After closing the door behind them, I follow their slow progress down the stairs. Chloe’s voice is a soft, sweet murmur as she reassures her dad. But the whole way down, tension grips my neck and shoulders. I’m a man of action, standing back, unable to act, to do, tofixthings isn’t easy for me.

By the time we get to the bottom, Rick’s mouth is tight with pain, and as we step outside, Phillip jumps out to open the car door. Chloe maneuvers her father inside, then glances at me over her shoulder, her expression questioning.

“I’ll sit in the front,” I tell her.

Brow furrowed, she opens her mouth, a protest on the tip of her tongue.

Before she can voice it, I point to the open door. “Sit with your father, Chloe. Believe it or not, it isn’t the first time I’ve sat in the front of a car. I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

She rewards me with a soft smile that hits me low in my gut. “Thank you.”

Before I can open the passenger door, Phillip does it for me.

His grin is a little too wide for my liking.

“I’m capable of opening a door by myself, you know.” Rather than deter him, my terse tone only makes his grin grow even wider.

The drive to Rick’s doctor is short. Thank fuck for that, too, because every time I turn to see how Chloe and her dad are faring in the back, Rick’s face is pale, and his eyes are closed. Chloe meets my gaze each time, her eyes shadowed with a worry that lodges heavily in my throat.

And that’s a problem. My goal at the start of her employment was to maintain professional distance between us, yet here I am, compelled to help her today and filled with concern for her dad—and her. Clearly, I’ve already seriously misstepped.

I tell myself that I’ll help them get inside, and then I’ll leave them to it. But after we arrive, and I’ve escorted them to the reception, after Chloe mouthsthank youand disappears with her dad through the door of the doctor’s office, I find myself staying.

I sit on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room, lean forward, and rest my elbows on my knees.

My mind lingers on Chloe, on the soft way she speaks to her father, how gentle she is with him. How she handles working for me and looking after him with genuine warmth and grace.

That thought triggers a tightness in my chest, along with an unexpected surge of protectiveness—especially knowing I nearly forced her out of the position as my assistant. The notion of her working for someone else, someone like Roger Haverscombe, and the things he might expect of her, has tension ratcheting up my spine.

Twenty minutes later, the door opens, and Chloe walks out on her own. When she catches sight of me, surprise flashes across her face.

She sinks down on the chair beside me with a long sigh. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

I straighten. “I wanted to make sure your dad was okay before I left.”

Her smile is small but genuine. “Dr. Clarke gave him steroid injections. He’s lying down in one of the appointment rooms until they kick in.”

“How long does that usually take?”

“About an hour.” She slumps against the back of the chair.

I nod. I have to get to the office. I called Tate to step in for me with my highest priority meetings this morning, but Cole is still out on paternity leave, and I can’t afford to leave Tate juggling it all on his own for too long.

Chloe probably senses the direction of my thoughts. “It’s all right. Dad will be feeling a lot better soon. We can take an Uber home.”

I shake my head. “I’ll send Phillip back for you.”

When I stand, she jumps up too, taking a step closer.

“You don’t have to do that. We’ll be okay.”

From this close, her skin looks even softer and more luminous, and I do something I know I shouldn’t. Something I’ll probably regret later. But all logic is drowned out by an urge I can’t resist.

Taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I tip it up until our gazes lock. “I know you’ll be okay. You’ve been okay this whole time. But I’ll send Phillip back for you anyway.” With that, I drop my hand, but not before I let my fingers graze the satin skin of her jaw.

Her eyes widen in response, and she opens her mouth, probably to protest again.

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