Page 37 of Hero Worship

His pupils dilated, breath catching. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me right there in the terminal. Instead, he pressed his face into my chest, letting me shield him from curious glances.

"I hate that it affected me," they admitted, voice steady despite the tension in their shoulders. "After all the times I've handled this, you'd think..." They met my eyes, anger and determination flashing beneath the professional mask. "When they threatened that search, I was ready to file every human rights complaint in existence. But for a second, that old fear..." They squared their shoulders. "Well. Good thing I've gotten better at handling bullies."

I'd seen cavity searches used as weapons before, had read documented cases of "enhanced screening" being used to humiliate and assault vulnerable people. The thought of Xander facing that threat alone, of him having to stay calm and composed while strange men threatened to violate him...

"Never again," I growled, low enough for privacy. "I don't care what documentation they demand or what 'procedures' theyclaim are necessary. We'll handle it together, and if they want to try anything, they'll have both of us to deal with."

"Mm, promises," they murmured, a dangerous edge to their smile. "Though I have to admit, the idea of you cleaning the floor with a couple of security guards? Seriously hot."

The lightness was a defense mechanism, I knew. But I also caught the truth beneath it. We'd have to discuss that later, in private. For now, I just squeezed his hip in warning.

"Behave," I murmured, though my cock was already hardening at the memory of this morning. "We need to get our luggage."

"Yes, Daddy," he breathed, just quiet enough that no one else could hear. But I felt him press closer, felt the shudder that ran through him at using that title.

The rest of our transit through the airport went as planned. Xander maintained his cover flawlessly, but he stayed closer than strictly necessary, and his hand sought mine at every opportunity.

Only in the privacy of our hired car did Xander's professional mask slip slightly. They leaned into me, our cover as newlyweds providing convenient excuse for the contact.

Paris sprawled around us as we drove, the evening lights painting everything in soft focus. But all I could think about was the person in my arms, and all the ways I intended to prove exactly how thoroughly they belonged to me.

Later, I'd make him tell me about every time he'd faced this kind of threat alone. I'd channel this protective rage into something productive—legal resources, international contacts, whatever it took to make sure he never had to endure that kind of violation again.

But for now, I just held him close as the city of lights welcomed us with deceptive beauty. Let Roche and their preserved dolls wait. Let the mission take a back seat for just a moment.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was proving to Xander that he wasn't alone anymore. That he had someone in his corner. That he was mine to protect, to possess, to keep safe.

The rest could wait until tomorrow.

The moment we steppedinto our suite at the Ritz Paris, I knew we were in trouble. Not because of anything mission-related. The suite was perfect for our cover as newlyweds with too much money and too little sense. No, the trouble was the way Ash's eyes darkened as he watched me explore the space, his handler mask slipping just enough to reveal the predator underneath.

Xavier's name lit up my phone again with another FaceTime request. I watched it ring out, guilt churning in my gut. This was day two of dodging his calls, sending nothing but quick texts about "crazy intern schedules" and "networking events."But I couldn't risk him reading anything in my expression. My brother's empathy was too sharp, his ability to see through my masks too accurate.

Xander

Sorry, back-to-back meetings. Living the dream! Miss you.

Xavier

Call Papa. He's worried.

Xander

Just busy! Tell him I'll call next chance I get.

The lies were getting easier. I wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

I turned back to the room, lowering my phone.

"This will do nicely," I purred, trailing my fingers along the gilded furniture. I made sure to add an extra sway to my hips as I moved toward the bedroom, my BPD brain already cycling between wanting to provoke a reaction and terrified of pushing too far. "Though I have to wonder who you're trying to impress—Roche, or me?"

Ash's hands caught my waist from behind, his grip bruising. "Careful, Baby. I'm a jealous sort of man."

I leaned back against his chest, tilting my head to expose my throat. The position made me feel vulnerable in ways that should have terrified me. "I was just admiring our accommodations."

"You never 'just' do anything." His teeth grazed my pulse point. "And we both know exactly what game you're playing."

He was right. I'd been pushing his buttons since we left the airport, wearing clothes designed to draw attention, letting my accent slip just enough to make heads turn. Testing his control.

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