GUARDED FLAMES

CHAPTER TWO

NIKOLAI- 32 YEARS OLD

She wore red that day.

A dress too tight, too short, too damn confident. Like she wanted the whole damn house to look at her. Like she knew they were watching. And maybe she did.

I leaned against the wall near the entrance, silent as always, scanning the room while she entertained her guests. Her father was hosting one of his little “business” dinners. The kind where everyone smiled too much and drank wine that tasted like secrets.

And there she was—Evangeline Moretti.

All curves, fire, and rebellion wrapped in silk.

She didn’t act like someone who needed protection. She acted like she dared someone to try her.

And that was exactly what would get her killed.

I shifted my stance as she laughed too loudly at something one of the guests said. Some greasy kid from another family—barely legal and already talking like he ran the city. His eyes were glued to her legs.

I didn’t realize how tightly I was gripping my glass until the stem cracked beneath my fingers.

Damn it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

She spotted me then. Across the room, her eyes met mine. And just like that, the noise faded.

I didn’t look away. That’s what she wanted. She thrived off attention—especially from me. Especially because I refused to give it to her.

She walked toward me slowly, each step deliberate, her heels echoing like a challenge. My jaw tightened.

Here we go.

“You’re staring,” she said, stopping way too close.

“Your dress demands attention.”

She smirked. “Then stop giving it.”

I didn’t move. “Go back to your guest.”

“Jealous?”

“No.” Lie.

Her eyes sparkled, like she knew. Like she could smell the war I was trying to fight inside myself.

“You don’t scare me, you know,” she whispered.

“I’m not trying to.”

“Liar.”

Her voice was low, seductive even, but beneath it, there was something else. Something soft. Curious. She was testing me—and herself. Seeing how close she could get before I snapped.

“I’m not like those boys you flirt with,” I said quietly.

“No,” she agreed. “You’re worse. At least they touch me.”

Her words landed like a punch. I didn’t move, but my pulse betrayed me.

She was eighteen now. Legal. Bold. Smart enough to know what she was doing. But it didn’t matter.

She was my job.

And I was too broken to deserve softness.

“You should walk away, Evangeline,” I said.

She leaned closer. “Why? Because you’re afraid you might want me?”

“No.” I met her gaze. “Because I’m afraid I already do.”

For a second, she froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

Then her father’s voice echoed from across the hall.

“Evangeline!”

She looked back, exhaled slowly, and gave me one last look.

“Someday,” she said softly, “you’ll stop pretending you don’t feel it too.”

And then she walked away.

I watched the sway of her hips as she disappeared into the crowd, and I told myself again—this can’t happen.

I had blood on my hands. Too many scars. Too many demons. She didn’t need a man like me.

She needed a clean life.

A future.

Not a past like mine.

But as I stood there in the shadows, heart thudding like I’d just survived a war, I realized something terrifying:

I didn’t want to protect her anymore.

I wanted to keep her.