Page 5 of Hunted Hearts
“That’s not how it works.” Juliette pressed her palms to her hips.
“This is not negotiable, Juliette. Your safety comes first.” Henrik was known for his permanent frown, but she knew from years of working with him that a heart of gold was buried under three decades of industry cynicism.
Juliette felt her hackles rise at being told what to do, but she paid Henrik very well for his advice and she trusted him. He had her best interests at heart.
He moved closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got a sold-out tour, millions in ticket sales, and the kind of press you’ve always dreamed about. I’m not letting it all crash and burn because someone slipped through the cracks.”
Rachel stepped forward, voice gentler now. “This isn’t about taking something from you. It’s about protecting what you’vebuilt. You don’t have to like this bodyguard. You just have to be safe.”
Safe.
She curled her fingers, nails pressing into her palms. She hadn’t feltunsafeuntil they said the word out loud. Now, it slithered through her chest, cold and venomous, like the scorpion’s tail.
As if her thoughts about safety summoned some higher power, a low hum vibrated the air. The dressing room had no windows, but she imagined a sleek helicopter setting down on the roof of the studio.
The entire room fell silent.
“That must be him.” Henrik offered Juliette a reassuring smile before crossing the room with his usual energy, all calm confidence and quiet purpose.
Juliette stared after her manager for a long beat, her mind spinning. How had a simple gift like a bouquet turned into something so dark and frightening that it required a bodyguard?
When her assistant touched her elbow, she jumped. Harper gave her a soft smile. “Sorry, Juliette. Why don’t you sit down? Try to relax while we wait for Henrik to return.” Her assistant’s soft, lilting French accent usually calmed her, but right now, nothing would except picking up her beloved violin.
The room was dead silent, which only made the whir of the helicopter blades that much louder. In what felt like seconds, Henrik returned, throwing open the dressing room door like this wasn’t the strangest entrance any of them had ever witnessed.
Juliette’s pulse slammed faster, and not in a good way.
“No,” she said softly to herself more than anyone else. “No, no, no.”
This wasn’t happening.
A tall figure stepped into the room like he owned it—broad shoulders, black T-shirt stretched over muscle, his jaw set in a scowl. Aviators hid his eyes, but Juliette could already tell he wasn’t the kind of guy to appreciate her art…or the quiet she required.
“Juliette de Laroque?” His voice was gravel wrapped in arrogance.
She stood, heart sinking. “Yes.”
He stuck out a hand.
Juliette considered herself a warm and welcoming person, but she didn’t want anything to do with this big stranger dressed in worn jeans and cowboy boots.
The second her fingers touched his palm, she flinched.
Rough. Warm. Solid like steel.
She was used to touching soft hands. Polished fingers. Manicured nails.
She pulled back quickly.
No. Absolutely not.
Her quiet world—her delicate, deliberately crafted ecosystem of peace and creativity—was being invaded by a man who looked like he ate bullets for breakfast.
Chapter Two
Theo swept a glance around the room. “Everybody out.”
Dead silence followed his order. Five pairs of eyes landed on him for several long heartbeats. Then all at once, everyone moved.
