Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“I hired a security company,” my father explains, his tone measured as if anticipating my reaction. “One of the best in the world. There’ll be a man assigned to keep you safe.”
I sit up straighter in my seat, my pulse quickening. “How serious are these threats?” My voice trembles slightly, and I curse myself for letting the fear show. My eyes fix on him, watching the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders seem locked in place, the telltale signs of a man under immense pressure.
“It’s nothing to be alarmed about,” he replies, his voice carefully even. He tugs at his tie—an uncharacteristic gesture for someone so composed. “Everything will be fine.”
I narrow my eyes, studying him like I’m trying to decipher a code. “I don’t believe you,” I say finally, my words soft but heavy with suspicion. My father isn’t a man prone to unnecessary precautions. If he’s gone to the lengths of hiring one of the best security companies in the world, the danger must be real.
He slows to a stop at a red light and turns his weary green eyes toward me. They seem older somehow, filled with an exhaustion that goes beyond sleepless nights. “I promise, everything will be okay,” he says softly. “This company comes highly recommended by a colleague.”
I lean back into the seat, attempting to mimic the ease I want to feel. But anxiety blooms in my chest and spreads outward, a dull ache creeping into my limbs. A heaviness lodges itself in the pit of my stomach, refusing to dissipate. “What about you?” I ask, my voice barely audible. “Will you have security too?”
“Yes,” he replies as the light turns green and the car rolls forward. “There’s top-level security at these meetings.”
His reassurance does little to fully calm me, but I exhale a shallow breath of relief, releasing some of the tension coiled tightly between my shoulder blades. “You’ll call me every night,” I say, trying to cling to some sense of normalcy in all of this.
His lips curl into a smile, a rare and gentle one that momentarily softens the lines of his face. “And every morning too,” he promises.
His words help, if only a little. I let my gaze wander out the window, fixing on the endless stretch of turquoise ocean in the distance. The frothy white waves crash against the shore with rhythmic certainty, a soothing lullaby against the chaos in my mind. The sun, impossibly bright, reflects off the water, casting sparkling shards of light that dance across the horizon.
Traffic thickens as we approach the heart of Saint Pierce, a bustling city that manages to blend its tropical charm with urban chaos. Brightly colored storefronts blur past, interspersed with palm trees swaying lazily in the warm breeze. I should feel calmer now, surrounded by this paradise, but my thoughts remain restless, circling back to the unknown man who will soon become a part of my life.
For the first time, I wonder what it will feel like to share my space with someone so unfamiliar. To have my world—small and isolated as it is—disrupted.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension as I glance at my father.
“We’re meeting him at a building downtown,” he replies matter-of-factly, his focus fixed on the road ahead.
“Does he have a name?” I press, hoping for some detail that will make this feel less surreal.
“Ranger Cole,” my father says, his tone clipped and professional. It’s the same tone he uses when discussing lab protocols or presenting at conferences. He has a way of boiling people down to their function, forgetting they’re human first.
I let the name roll around in my mind, imagining what kind of person would be attached to it. Ranger Cole. It sounds rugged, like a character ripped from an action movie. But reality rarely matches imagination. I’m sure he’ll be some middle-aged, overweight man with a clipboard and a power trip. It’s fine—I have enough jewelry supplies in my bag to keep me occupied for hours. And my textbooks.
As we pull into the back lot of a towering glass building that seems to kiss the sky, my palms begin to sweat. My father shifts the car into park, and before he can even open his door, a figure steps into view.
Not just any figure.
A man.
A towering man.
He’s dressed in a tight black T-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and impossibly defined chest, paired with fitted black jeans that make him look like he walked out of a tactical gear catalog. His arms are massive, bulging under the hem of his sleeves, each muscle defined like it was sculpted in marble.
He lifts a single finger in a commanding gesture, motioning for me to stay in the car. The motion is fluid, confident, and sends a clear message—wait. My breath catches as my gaze trails upward, from his rock-solid chest to his sculpted jaw, dusted with scruff that looks as sharp as it does effortless. Then, I meet his eyes—dark, penetrating, and assessing me with an intensity that makes me freeze.