The Line He Shouldn’t Cross
1399 Words
The first rule of private security: do not get emotionally involved.
Jace Monroe knew that better than anyone.
He also knew he’d already broken it the second he saw Amira Kingston step out of that car.
Not today—no, long before that.
Four years ago, St. Regis had been his battlefield. He was a sophomore on a football scholarship, pre-law track, a favorite among professors and coaches alike. And then—life happened. His mother got sick. His siblings needed raising. His scholarship couldn’t cover real world emergencies.
So he vanished.
Dropped out. Became invisible. A ghost haunting the elite circles of the rich—watching them from behind security cameras, from corners of rooms they never noticed.
Until his next assignment turned out to be her.
Amira Kingston.
The daughter of Nathaniel Kingston. Billionaire. Control freak. The type of man who gave his daughter a diamond collar and called it freedom.
Jace watched her now from the dark hallway outside her dorm.
She had no idea he used to walk these halls.
She had no idea how often he used to see her around campus when she came for charity with her father. Laughing, tossing her hair back, walking past him without ever really seeing him.
She had no idea the way she looked tonight in that silk tank and pajama shorts made him want to break every vow he’d ever taken about restraint.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the light spilling from under her bedroom door.
She was still awake.
He could tell by the shuffle of her footsteps, the creak of her bed, the faint click of her phone.
Jace clenched his jaw and looked away.
You’re here to protect her. Nothing more.
But her father’s voice echoed in his mind from earlier that week.
“She’s stubborn. Reckless. She’ll test you. But you don’t let her out of your sight, Monroe. You understand me? If anything happens to her… it’s on you.”
Of course, Jace had said yes. Because saying no wasn’t an option when Nathaniel Kingston doubled your paycheck and reminded you he owned everything you breathed.
He’d taken the job.
But he hadn’t expected her.
Not like this.
Not with her laughter sounding like a dare.
Not with her scent—vanilla and heat—clinging to the walls after she passed.
Not with the fire in her eyes every time she looked at him like she wanted to slice him in half just to see what was inside.
Jace exhaled slowly.
Another rule: don’t stare.
And yet—he found himself replaying every glance she’d thrown his way today. Every sarcastic quip. Every roll of her eyes. Every second her mouth curled in contempt.
She hated him.
That was good.
Hate was better than curiosity.
Hate didn’t lead to weakness.
Still, his hand reached for his wristwatch—a disguised body-cam—and he flicked through its recent footage. Just for security checks. That’s what he told himself.
He paused when it hit a frame of her—tossing her head back at the mixer, champagne in hand, a fake smile painted across her face like armor.
He zoomed in slightly. Studied her eyes.
Empty.
Lonely.
Angry.
Beneath the glitter, she was caged. And part of him—sick, selfish, stupid—wanted to be the one to unlock her.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
He straightened instantly, posture snapping into place.
A girl came stumbling down the hallway—drunk, laughing, heels clacking against the marble floor. Her dress was halfway off one shoulder, and her mascara smeared like war paint.
“Hey,” she giggled, stopping near him. “You’re new.”
He said nothing.
“You’re not a student, are you?” She leaned in. “What are you, like… security?”
He nodded once, firm.
She tilted her head. “Wanna take a break? I’ve got vodka and silence.”
Tempting—for a lesser man.
But his eyes flicked to Amira’s door.
“I’m working.”
“Suit yourself.” She smirked and sauntered off.
He didn’t even watch her go.
***
Morning came fast.
Amira woke late, naturally, and emerged from her room in a silk robe with zero apology.
Her hair was in a messy bun. Her expression, permanently annoyed.
Jace stood by the windows, sipping black coffee. Watching the quad.
She groaned. “You seriously just stand there all day?”
“Only when you’re asleep. When you’re awake, I follow.”
“Creepy.”
“Necessary.”
She moved into the kitchenette and poured herself a glass of orange juice like he wasn’t there.
“You really need to get a hobby.”
“I have one.”
“What? Stalking people?”
“Protecting you.”
Her glass hit the counter with a little too much force. She turned slowly, eyes narrowed.
“Do you even like your job?”
“I like staying alive.”
“Whatever.”
She crossed the room, bare feet tapping softly, and stood in front of him. Her chin tilted up, attitude sharp enough to draw blood.
“I’m going to class. Don’t embarrass me.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t hover.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t talk.”
He leaned in slightly. “Then stop saying things worth replying to.”
She blinked. For a second, just a flicker…something passed between them. Something electric and reckless.
Then she turned on her heel and walked away.
***
Campus was a minefield of triggers.
Jace followed from a discreet distance, ears tuned to every rustle, every shift of tone in passing students’ conversations. His earpiece kept him updated with Kingston’s external surveillance. And his eyes never left her.
She walked with confidence, phone in hand, head high. Her pink tinted sunglasses were probably worth more than his old apartment.
Girls whispered when she passed.
Guys stared.
Some even tried to talk to her.
Jace made mental notes of each face. Each voice. Each hand that came too close.
One guy—tall, loud, way too confident—tried to step into her path.
Jace was there before the guy could blink.
A slight bump. A deliberate shift of shoulder.
“Watch it,” the guy muttered, annoyed.
Jace didn’t even look at him.
Amira turned over her shoulder. “Are you serious right now?”
Jace said nothing.
She turned back around, huffing as she stormed off toward her lecture hall.
But her shoulders were straighter.
***
Later that afternoon, she skipped class and dragged Tara to a café across from campus. Jace followed quietly, watching from a corner table.
She didn’t look at him once.
But she knew he was there.
He watched the way she stirred her iced latte. The way she forced a laugh when Tara told a joke. The way she kept glancing at the window—like she wanted to run, but couldn’t remember how.
And for a moment, Jace wondered what it would’ve been like… if things were different.
If he were still a student. Still a guy with potential. A scholarship. A future.
Would she have looked at him then?
Would she have noticed?
Would she have let him in?
A voice cut into his earpiece. Kingston’s head of ops.
“New update. We received a flagged message on Amira’s social inbox. Nothing directly threatening, but the tone is obsessive. Possibly a burner. Stay alert.”
Jace didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
But his blood turned cold.
He zoomed in discreetly on Amira through his smartwatch cam.
Laughing. Talking. Still safe.
For now.
But something told him that wouldn’t last.
***
That night, she didn’t speak to him.
She passed him in the hall like he was a wall. A shadow. A non-entity.
And Jace? He let her.
Because it was better that way.
Better she never knew.
Better she never guessed that every second she walked away, he wanted to follow not just because it was his job—but because she was the only thing in this entire goddamn world that made him feel alive.
But he wouldn’t touch her.
Wouldn’t let himself want what he couldn’t have.
He didn’t deserve her.
And if she ever knew who he truly was—what he’d lost, what he’d done—she’d hate him even more than she already did.
- Writer
