Beneath His Guard

Kayla felt so small

Every morning, Jeff was there—waiting, watching, never more than a few steps away. She would go about her day, attending meetings, organizing her next gallery exhibit, and shaking hands with important people in the art world. But no matter how hard she tried to focus on her work, her thoughts kept returning to him.

There was something about Jeff, something dark and compelling that she couldn't ignore. He was always in the periphery of her mind, and the way he seemed to observe everything, every movement she made, made her uneasy—and strangely excited.

It had been a week since the elevator conversation, and it was getting harder to pretend that nothing was happening between them. Every glance, every touch, every word felt loaded with an unspoken promise.

One afternoon, Kayla was in her office, poring over the final details of her upcoming exhibit. The gallery had hired a private chef for the opening, and she needed to finalize the wine list. She was so absorbed in her work that she barely noticed Jeff standing in the doorway until he spoke.

"You need to relax," he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Kayla looked up, startled. She hadn't heard him approach, and now he was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with that same unbothered look in his eyes.

"Relax?" she scoffed, setting her pen down. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Jeff said, stepping into the room. His eyes scanned the cluttered desk, then moved to her. "You're wound tighter than a spring. You're barely eating, barely sleeping."

Kayla could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way her body was reacting to his presence—both annoyed and drawn to him. She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.

"Let me help you, Kayla. Take a break. I'll handle everything for an hour."

The idea of him "handling" anything felt like an intrusion, but the exhaustion that had been steadily building in her chest was hard to ignore. Kayla exhaled sharply, then stood up from her desk. "Fine. One hour."

Jeff didn't move as she gathered her things, watching her with those piercing eyes of his, but there was no challenge in his gaze. He didn't need to prove anything to her. He was already in control.

As she grabbed her purse, she felt him stepping closer, his towering figure filling the space between them. His presence was like an invisible force, pulling at her in ways she hadn't anticipated.

"You're too stubborn for your own good," Jeff said, his voice low.

"Maybe that's why I'm still here," she shot back, but her words felt weak in the face of the magnetism he exuded.

He smiled—just a little. "Maybe." But there was no humor in his eyes. His smile faded quickly, replaced by the same seriousness that defined him.

"Let's go," he said simply, leading the way to the elevator.

---

The day passed quickly as they drove to a quiet spot on the outskirts of the city. The landscape was beautiful—rolling hills with the faint scent of flowers carried by the wind—but Kayla's mind kept drifting to Jeff. To the way he watched her, like a predator with control over his prey.

They stopped at a small café with an outdoor seating area. The warmth of the sun felt good against her skin, but the tightness in her chest never quite loosened. They sat at a small table, the quiet hum of the café's atmosphere doing little to calm her nerves.

"You're not saying much," Jeff remarked, his eyes scanning her as she absentmindedly stirred her drink.

"What is there to say?" she retorted, keeping her gaze firmly on her glass. "You're here to babysit me."

He chuckled softly, and for the first time, it didn't feel condescending. There was something about the way he looked at her that softened the harsh edges of his personality, just for a brief moment.

"You think I enjoy this?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. "Following you around everywhere, waiting for something to happen?"

Kayla raised an eyebrow. "Don't you?"

He paused, the tension in his jaw evident. "No. It's not like that." His gaze turned intense again, his voice dropping an octave. "I do what I do because it's my job, because you're in danger. But don't get it twisted, Kayla. I don't need to be here. I want to be."

She froze at his words, a strange mixture of anger and something else bubbling in her chest. She didn't want to admit it, but she could feel her body betraying her—the heat that rose in her cheeks, the sudden tightening in her chest.

Before she could respond, Jeff stood abruptly, his eyes hardening as he reached for his phone. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Kayla watched him walk away, unable to shake the strange feeling his admission left her with. He wanted to be here. For her.

She didn't know what to make of it.