Page 11 of The Bodyguard Situation

“Perfect. I made a brunch reservation in town. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

“I don’t know if I have clothes that are public-worthy. I packed fast. Can we have it delivered instead?”

“It’s just brunch, Harp. My God. I’m sure no one here will even recognize you,” he encourages, but he lied to me, leaving me unprepared to be seen.

I run a fashion company; I have to be camera ready at all times. I have an image that I must uphold for Bellamore, for Billie, and myself.

“Okay,” I say as I turn to go inside, trying to remember what I stuffed into my bag.

His hand reaches out, grabbing me playfully yet firmly as he pulls me back to him. Our lips crash together and the intimacy of it surprises me.

I cover my brief discomfort with a teasing tone. “Also, I thought you said no cell phones.”

“It was an emergency,” he says smoothly, pulling it from his pocket and holding it out. “You can have mine since I have yours.”

I hesitate, looking at the phone in his hand. A text reminder from Blaire Bowers flashes on the screen and I look back up into his eyes.

“Go one,” he says, but something about his offer feels like a threat, like he’s testing me. I choose the safe answer, protecting myself however I can.

“I trust you, my love,” I say giving him a smile, knowing I need to change the subject. “Now back to brunch talk. Is this place casual or fancy? Trying to figure out what I should wear today.”

“Nothing.” His eyebrows rise as he steals another kiss. “But it’s a somewhat-busy spot in town. Don’t want the locals seeing too much of you.”

“Give me ten minutes,” I tell him. “Can’t wait.”

He gives me another kiss, and this time, I successfully pull away from him.

I climb the stairs and head into the bedroom, setting my weekend bag on the bed. I pull out a sundress from our spring line and slip it on, smoothing out the wrinkled fabric. I pause for a second and glance over at the nightstand drawer. My curiosity gets the best of me, so I tug on it. Locked.

I want to text Billie. I want to ask her what happened. The fact that Micah took my phone has me panicked. He’s isolated me, and I have no idea where I am.

Downstairs, Micah’s waiting for me, looking relaxed and totally unaware of my racing heart. He takes my hand and leads me outside to the car. The mid-morning sunshine feels amazing, wrapping everything in a warm glow. We drive along the coast, and the little town is buzzing with beachy blues and yellows as tourists stroll by. The next street is lined with cute boutiques, antique shops, and charming cafés. Even though I’m feeling off, the scene is super cute, and it helps distract me for a moment.

Micah smoothly parks in front of the restaurant and hops out to open my door. His sweet gesture makes me smile, easing some of my worries. To anyone watching, he’s the perfect man.

But is he?

Once we’re inside the restaurant, we move to the front counter, and he gives his name. Right away, the host’s eyes slide up and down Micah like he’s a snack. A pang of jealousy hits me when he shoots her a charming smile.

“I have a reservation for two. Would you and your daughter like a table or a booth?” she asks casually, her words stinging.

“Daughter?” I mutter, shocked and then annoyed.

I shoot Micah a look, expecting him to correct her.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says simply, not saying anything more.

He didn’t claim me. No man ever does.

She leads us to a booth by the window with a white linen tablecloth, and I watch Micah openly stare at her ass. I swallow hard, not wanting anyone I’m with to even look at another woman. I slide into the side where sunlight pours in. I glance outside, trying to figure out where we are while pretending to admire the view. This isn’t the Hamptons. I’ve never visited this town before.

As I glance down at the menu, I notice the address in the top corner.

I’m in Newport, Rhode Island, hours away from the city. I tense, realizing he’s taken away my phone and isolated me from everyone who cares about me. If I wanted help, I couldn’t get it.

How did I let this happen?

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