Beneath His Guard

The following days were a blur of meetings, gallery openings, and private viewings. But despite the hustle of her art world, Kayla could never escape the shadow that trailed her everywhere. Jeff was always there. Every time she turned around, he was there—his dark, watchful eyes scanning the room, his towering frame cutting through the crowd like a force of nature.

At first, it grated on her. His presence, his insistence on staying just within reach, was like a constant reminder that her life was no longer her own. She hated that. Hated that she couldn't go anywhere without him lurking behind her, making her feel both secure and suffocated at the same time.

But over the last few days, something strange began to happen.

Despite herself, Kayla found herself growing… accustomed to it. His presence, though intrusive, was also oddly comforting in some twisted way. The way he moved, always so assured, so focused—it made her feel like nothing could touch her. But then again, she didn't need protection. She could take care of herself. She always had.

She was walking down the hallway of her gallery, her mind preoccupied with her latest project, when she felt the familiar heat of his presence just behind her. His steps, deliberate and slow, echoed in the quiet corridor.

Kayla spun around, meeting his gaze with a glare. "You're everywhere."

Jeff didn't flinch, his expression unreadable. "And I'll continue to be, unless you want something to happen to you."

It was the way he said it—his voice so calm, so certain—that made her shiver. There was no doubt in his words, no hesitation. The truth hung between them like an unspoken challenge.

"You don't have to be so... overbearing," Kayla muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can handle myself."

"Clearly," Jeff said with a sardonic smile. "But sometimes it's not about handling things. It's about preventing them."

She narrowed her eyes. "You sound like you enjoy this."

"I enjoy keeping you safe," he said, his tone suddenly serious, a sharp edge in his voice. "Whether you like it or not, I'm good at my job."

Kayla studied him for a long moment. She didn't want to admit it, but the way he said it—it wasn't arrogance. It was confidence. The kind of confidence she didn't even know how to challenge.

She sighed, turning back around, unwilling to entertain the conversation any longer. "Fine. Stay out of my way, then."

Jeff stayed quiet, keeping his distance but never truly far enough to give her the illusion of freedom. She knew he was there, hovering, always watching, always calculating. And though she hated that she couldn't shake him, a part of her began to acknowledge that maybe—just maybe—she wasn't quite as indifferent to him as she liked to pretend.

That night, after the last event of the evening, Kayla was exhausted. Her feet ached from the heels, and the weight of the day pressed down on her like an unbearable weight. She was alone in the elevator, heading up to her penthouse, when the doors slid open and Jeff stepped inside. The elevator was small, cramped even with just the two of them inside.

The moment the doors closed, a heavy silence descended between them.

Kayla shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering to the buttons. She wanted to say something, to push him away, to remind him that she didn't need him here. But the words seemed to die on her lips.

"You didn't answer me earlier," Jeff said, his voice low and steady.

She glanced up at him, confused. "Answer you?"

"About enjoying this," he said, his eyes intense, almost predatory as he took a slow step closer. "I think you do."

Kayla's breath caught in her throat. Her heart skipped a beat, and she took an instinctive step back, her back pressing against the cool metal of the elevator wall.

"What are you talking about?" she managed, her voice thick with uncertainty.

His gaze never left hers, and she could feel the tension building between them, thick and palpable. "You like it when I'm around, Kayla. You like the way I keep you in check. The way I make sure nothing touches you."

"No, I don't," she said quickly, though the lie felt heavy in her mouth.

He smirked, a small, knowing curve of his lips that made her stomach flutter against her will. "You don't have to pretend. I can see it in the way you look at me. In the way your body reacts when I'm near. You want me close, even if you won't admit it."

She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the flush creeping up her neck. She wasn't some helpless woman, some fragile thing that could be swayed by a man like him. But Jeff was different. There was something about him that seemed to get under her skin, something that made her question the rules she'd lived by for so long.

"I don't need you," she whispered, the words coming out weaker than she intended.

Jeff's eyes darkened, his posture shifting just slightly, but enough to make her feel the heat radiating from him. He was closing in, slow and deliberate, the air between them thick with the tension they both ignored.

"Yes, you do," he said, his voice barely a whisper now. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you're mine to protect. And there's no one who's going to get close enough to hurt you—not without going through me first."

Before she could respond, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing her penthouse. But Kayla didn't step out immediately. She stood there, heart pounding, caught in a web of conflicting emotions. The space between them felt impossibly small, and her mind was a mess of confusion and desire.

Jeff didn't push her any further. Instead, he stepped back, just enough to allow her space, but still close enough to remind her he was always there. Watching.

"Get some rest," he said, his voice low but firm. "You'll need it."

She hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the elevator, feeling his gaze on her back like a weight she couldn't shake. She didn't know how much longer she could pretend this wasn't affecting her.