Page 20 of The Bodyguard Situation

I let out a breath of relief. I’m still safe. The tension in my shoulders loosens just a fraction because I know Brody is here.

Micah catches my eye and grins, unaware he’s being watched by a man who can destroy him in less than five seconds. I return the gesture, hiding my true emotions. It’s the first time I’ve relaxed since we left the restaurant.

“There’s my baby girl,” he says affectionately as he opens the car door for me.

He noticed my slight change in demeanor. How long has he been watching me closely?

I slide in, allowing him to buckle me in, as usual, though this time, his touch makes my skin crawl. These past two months, I was blinded by loneliness, and I settled forthis. Ichosethis. I can’t trust myself or my own judgment anymore.

On the short drive back to his beach mansion, Micah makes light conversation. He’s carefree and animated, as if nothing’s wrong. I react appropriately, silently questioning everything.

Was anything we experienced together real?

Or had it all been meticulously planned to make me fall for him?

Over the years, I learned to recognize people who wanted to use me to get closer to Billie, to exploit our friendship or success. I was always cautious and guarded—until now. I was too easy for him. He played on my weaknesses, on my need to be loved.

How fucking pathetic am I?

“I thought we could go sailing after we visit the courthouse tomorrow,” Micah says casually, breaking into my thoughts. “I contacted the county judge—a friend of my father’s—and can get our marriage license in the morning. We can be hitched by lunch.”

Surprise flickers across my face, and I don’t know what to say.

“You have a boat?” I question.

This is more proof that I barely know him. I convinced myself we were perfectly aligned, ignoring the gaps in my knowledge about who he was.

“I have several sailboats and a few yachts,” he says smoothly, pride evident in his voice. “Next year, I’d love to sail around the world with you.”

“Hmm. Only one problem with that—I don’t like large bodies of water,” I admit, hoping to mask the rising anxiety in my voice. The thought of being trapped at sea with him or anyone sends panic racing through me. “I thought you knew that about me.”

“You enjoyed sailing in the past, didn’t you?” he presses, glancing over at me with his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

I shake my head firmly, unease prickling at the back of my neck. “No. Billie enjoys sailing. Not me.”

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face before he smooths it away, giving me a neutral expression. “I’ll make an appointment with my doctor to get you some motion sickness medicine.”

I nod enthusiastically, forcing my voice into a cheerful pitch. “That would be incredible. I’d love that. Maybe I’ll finally be able to enjoy the ocean.”

But internally, my guard shoots up higher. There’s no way in hell I’ll allow any doctor he knows near me, much less allow them to prescribe me anything. I don’t like large bodies of water because of my anxiety, not because of the motion. He’s too fucking narrow-minded to realize that or even ask.

“Almost time to see if we’re expecting a little one,” he announces, pulling the car toward the towering gates of his oceanside mansion.

My heart pounds as we slow to a stop, waiting for the heavy gates to open. Walls at least ten feet high surround us, obscuring everything outside. Last night, this property felt secluded, peaceful even, but today, in the sunlight, it’s more like a prison, just as Brody said.

As Micah drives down the long driveway, I glance toward the backyard and notice a small group of people leisurely strolling along a pathway.

“What’s back there?” I ask curiously, wanting any information to help me escape him.

Micah follows my gaze. “A very famous trail that follows the oceanside. It’s just over three miles long. It passes lots of historic homes.”

I commit this detail to memory, just in case I have to run.

We exit the car, and Micah snatches the pregnancy test from my hand, studying the instructions intently as we enter the house. I’m 99.9% certain I’m not pregnant, considering the implant in my arm, but I’ll do this to appease him.

He leads me toward the bathroom, pulling the test from its box and holding it out like a silent command.

“Take it,” he finally says, so I do.

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