Too Close
1001 Words
By the third day in the safehouse, Elena decided Luca Devereaux was going to drive her insane.
He followed her everywhere.
Kitchen. Living room. Hallway. Balcony.
Every single movement she made, he noticed.
Every door she touched, he checked first.
Every window stayed locked.
It was suffocating.
Worse?
Part of her was starting to get used to it.
“Elena.”
She looked up from the couch as Luca entered the living room holding a phone against his ear. His expression was unreadable as always, but tension sat sharply in his shoulders.
“Yes, I understand,” he said into the phone. “Double the security downstairs.”
Her stomach tightened.
Another threat.
Another problem.
He ended the call and immediately scanned the room like he expected danger to magically appear between the furniture.
“You’re doing it again,” she muttered.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at every exit like someone’s about to break through the walls.”
“They could.”
“That’s comforting.”
“It’s realistic.”
Elena rolled her eyes dramatically before standing from the couch. “I need coffee before I continue this conversation.”
“You’ve already had three cups.”
“And somehow I’m still tired.”
“That’s because you went to sleep at four in the morning.”
“You noticed?”
“I notice everything.”
The words landed harder than they should have.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Luca looked away first.
Interesting.
Elena hid the small smile threatening her lips as she walked into the kitchen.
The safehouse kitchen was absurdly expensive. Marble countertops. Dark cabinets. Soft underlighting beneath shelves.
The kind of kitchen no one actually cooked in.
Except Luca apparently did.
She’d discovered that yesterday morning when she walked in half-asleep and found him silently making eggs at six a.m. like some emotionally unavailable househusband.
It had been deeply confusing.
Elena reached for a mug in the cabinet above her.
Too high.
She stretched onto her toes.
Still too high.
A quiet movement behind her made her freeze.
Luca stepped up beside her without a word.
Close.
Way too close.
His chest nearly brushed her shoulder as he reached above her effortlessly and grabbed the mug.
Elena suddenly forgot how breathing worked.
He set the mug down gently beside her.
“You could ask for help,” he said.
“I could also sue whoever designed these cabinets.”
His mouth twitched slightly again.
That almost-smile.
God, it was unfair how rare it was.
Rare things always felt more valuable.
Elena turned toward the coffee machine, trying to ignore how aware she suddenly was of him standing behind her.
“Do bodyguards normally hover this much?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yes.”
That startled a laugh out of her before she could stop it.
Luca looked at her immediately.
Like the sound surprised him too.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Quieter.
Dangerously intimate.
Elena cleared her throat awkwardly. “So… what exactly are the rules here?”
“You stay inside.”
“That’s not happening.”
“You don’t go near windows alone.”
“Paranoid.”
“You tell me before entering public spaces.”
“This is beginning to sound like prison.”
“And you stop trying to lose security detail.”
Elena turned toward him fully now. “I escaped one time.”
“Twice.”
“Once successfully.”
“That isn’t helping your argument.”
She crossed her arms stubbornly. “You can’t control every part of my life.”
Luca’s expression darkened slightly.
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“There’s a difference between protecting me and controlling me.”
Silence.
The tension shifted instantly.
Not playful anymore.
Real.
Luca stepped closer slowly, eyes locked onto hers.
“You think I want this job?” he asked quietly.
Elena blinked.
“You think I enjoy watching every room for threats? Sleeping three hours a night? Waiting for someone to try putting a bullet through your skull again?”
His voice stayed calm.
But she could hear the anger underneath it now.
Raw. Controlled. Dangerous.
“You don’t understand what happens if I fail.”
The words hit harder than she expected.
Because suddenly this wasn’t about rules anymore.
It was fear.
Luca was afraid.
Not for himself.
For her.
Elena swallowed slowly. “Luca…”
Before she could finish, alarms suddenly exploded through the apartment.
Red lights flashed instantly across the security system.
Luca moved immediately.
Every trace of softness disappeared from his face in seconds.
“Bedroom. Now.”
“What happened?”
“Move.”
His voice snapped like a command.
Elena’s pulse spiked instantly.
Luca grabbed the gun from beneath the back of his waistband while walking toward the monitor screens.
One of the cameras downstairs showed movement.
Three men entering the building lobby.
Armed.
“Oh my God,” Elena whispered.
Luca looked terrifyingly calm.
“Go to the panic room,” he ordered without taking his eyes off the screens.
“What about you?”
“I’ll handle it.”
The way he said it made fear crawl down her spine.
Not because he sounded uncertain.
Because he sounded fully prepared to kill someone.
“Elena.” His voice sharpened. “Go.”
She should’ve listened immediately.
Instead, she hesitated.
And Luca noticed.
Of course he did.
He crossed the room quickly until he stood directly in front of her. Close enough that she could see every tiny scar near his jawline.
“If anything happens,” he said quietly, “you lock the door behind you and do not come out unless I tell you to.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
“Luca—”
His hand briefly touched the side of her face.
Gentle.
So gentle it almost didn’t feel real.
Then he pulled away.
And the moment disappeared.
“Go,” he said again.
This time, Elena listened.
- Writer
