Page 65 of Ruined By Protection
That profile. The set of those shoulders. The way he holds his head.
Elliott.
"No," I gasp, stumbling backward until I bump into a pedestal supporting some priceless piece. "No, no, no."
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the image away. He can't be here. He can't have found me. Not yet. Not when I've barely begun to breathe.
"Hazel?" Lucrezia materializes beside me, her hand gentle on my arm. "What's wrong?"
I can't speak. Can't breathe. My lungs refuse to work properly.
"He's here," I finally manage, my voice a broken whisper. "Elliott. By the metal sculpture."
Lucrezia's grip tightens on my arm as she scours the room. "Where exactly?"
I force my eyes open, pointing with a trembling hand toward where I saw him.
But the space is empty.
I blink rapidly, searching frantically. The man in the dark suit is nowhere to be seen. Did he duck behind something? Leave the room? Was he ever there at all?
Lucrezia exchanges a look with Fabio who is beside us now before turning back to me. "Let's step outside for a moment. Get some air."
I shake my head. "No, I'm fine. I'm just being paranoid." The last thing I want is to ruin Lucrezia's day with my fear. She's been so kind, so generous. "Please, enjoy the exhibition. I'm okay."
"Hazel," Lucrezia says firmly, "your safety isn't something we take lightly."
"But I didn't actually see him," I insist, doubt creeping in. "I mean, I thought I did, but when I looked again..." Itrail off, confusion muddling my thoughts. The certainty I felt moments ago wavers. Was it really Elliott or has fear twisted my perception?
Fabio moves slightly, positioning himself to better survey the room while maintaining proximity to us. His hand rests casually near his jacket button, and I suddenly wonder whether he's armed.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to Lucrezia. "I don't want to be this person—jumping at shadows, imagining threats everywhere."
Her eyes soften. "Don't apologize for protecting yourself. Your instincts kept you alive this long."
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The room no longer feels threatening, just filled with art and strangers appreciating it. No Elliott. No danger.
"Let's stay," I decide. "But maybe we could move to a different section?"
Lucrezia nods, looping her arm through mine. "A photography exhibit just opened in the east wing. I've been dying to see it."
CHAPTER 20
Matteo
Icut off a taxi, ignoring its blaring horn as I accelerate through a yellow-red light.
The gallery comes into view—modern glass façade gleaming in the afternoon sun. I park the Ducati haphazardly near the entrance, not giving a fuck about parking regulations. I tug off my helmet, running a hand through my hair as I survey the street for any sign of Montgomery.
Nothing obvious. No suspicious cars. No men watching the entrance.
Fabio stands near the door, his eyes meeting mine as I approach. "Boss," he nods. "They're in the east wing. Photography exhibit."
"Any sign of Montgomery?"
"Nothing confirmed. But Ms. Taylor thought she saw him in the sculpture room about fifteen minutes ago."
My blood runs cold. "And?"
