Bodyguard's undeniable pull

CHAPTER ONE THE TOUCH THAT LINGERED Elena Voss!!! Elena Voss!!! I am your biggest fan!! The noise hit her chest first like a chaotic symphony of shouted names, rapid camera shutters clicking like machine-gun fire, and the constant low buzz of a hundred smartphones recording every second of her arrival She kept her chin high, lips curved in the practised, camera-ready smile she had perfected in dressing-room mirrors since she was nineteen. The deep emerald silk gown clung to her body, catching every stray beam of light and sliding sensuously against her legs with each step. It had cost more than most people’s monthly rent, but tonight it felt less like luxury and more like fragile armour she wasn’t entirely sure would hold against the onslaught. “Elena! Over here, darling!” “Elena, is the rumour true about you and—” She didn’t bother answering. She knew exactly what the unfinished question was fishing for…the persistent whisper that she had a secret boyfriend, someone hidden from the public eye. The tabloids had been spinning variations of that story for months. Priya, her publicist and closest confidante, was already speaking urgently into her earpiece, voice calm but razor-sharp. “Side exit. The car is waiting. We are skipping the rest of the carpet.” Elena gave the smallest possible nod, barely perceptible beneath the flashing lights. The crowd felt closer tonight, more aggressive. An elbow jabbed into her arm hard enough to sting. Another hand…too bold, too low, brushed the small of her back before she could sidestep. She kept moving forward, smile fixed, eyes scanning for the promised escape route. Then, without warning, a strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind…firm, unhesitating, possessive. It yanked her back against a solid wall of heat and muscle. Her breath caught sharply in her throat. The arm didn’t loosen. Instead, it steered her sideways through the dense press of bodies, carving a path with the inevitability of water parting around stone. “Stay with me,” a low, rough voice murmured directly against her ear. It wasn’t a request. In the stuttering strobe of flashes, she caught the edge of his profile…sharp jawline shadowed with dark stubble, eyes scanning the swarm with cold precision. Black suit, black tie, black shirt everything about him was dark except for the thin white scar that curved along the flat plane between his left eye and ear, like someone had once tried to carve a permanent underline there and then given up. Jax Harlan. She had met him only forty minutes earlier in the green room backstage. Priya had ushered him in with a brisk, “This is the guy,” then vanished, leaving them alone in three beats of awkward silence. He had assessed her the way a professional evaluates a complicated puzzle he’s been paid to solve…cool, detached, no trace of warmth. No handshake offered. Just a curt nod and a flat “Ms. Voss.” Now that same man had his forearm locked securely across her stomach, guiding her with a grip that suggested she might vanish into the crowd if he eased up even slightly. They broke through to the curb. The black SUV waited, and the rear door was already open like a waiting mouth. Jax pressed her forward with controlled urgency, one large hand cupping the back of her head to protect it from the doorframe, then slid in right behind her. The door slammed shut, and the world’s roar muted instantly to a dull throb. The vehicle pulled away smoothly, accelerating into the Manhattan night. Streetlights streaked across the tinted windows in long golden ribbons. Elena exhaled shakily, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hands trembled; she flattened them against her thighs to still them. Jax sat close,close enough that she could smell the crisp scent of clean cotton overlaid with something darker, sharper cedar, maybe, or the faint metallic bite of gun oil. He stared straight ahead, one hand resting loosely on his knee, the other near the door handle as though he might need to leap out and confront oncoming traffic itself. She turned her head just enough to study him. “You always grab people like that?” His gaze flicked to hers, brief and unreadable. “Only when they’re about to get trampled.” She let out a small, breathless laugh. “Trampled? Dramatic.” “You smiled for thirty cameras while some guy tried to climb the barricade. That’s not dramatic. That’s stupid.” Elena tilted her head, considering him. “You think that was him? The letter guy?” “I think anyone who gets within three feet of you tonight is a problem until I say otherwise.” His voice remained even, almost bored, but an undercurrent of steel ran beneath it…something that raised goosebumps along her arms. She let her eyes trace him in the shifting light. Broad shoulders that filled the suit jacket effortlessly…thick wrists, ..hands across two knuckles, the kind of marks that came from hitting hard surfaces repeatedly and refusing to stop. “How long have you done this?” she asked quietly. “Long enough.” “Long enough to know I’m not making it up?” He turned his head fully then, giving her the full weight of his stare. The ice in his eyes fractured..just a hairline c***k. “You’re not making it up,” he said, softer now. “You’re a target. There’s a difference.” The car swung onto her street. The Rose Building loomed ahead…sleek glass and steel, doorman already stepping out beneath the awning, alert. Elena swallowed. “So what happens now? You camp in my hallway? Follow me to the bathroom?” “Something like that.” She arched an eyebrow. “And the part where you let go of me?” His gaze dropped…for half a second…to where his arm had encircled her waist earlier in the crush. Then back up. “That part,” he said, voice rougher, “has rules.” The SUV glided to a stop. Jax opened the door first, scanned the sidewalk in a practised left-right-left sweep, then stepped out and extended his hand. Elena stared at it…broad palm, faint scars crisscrossing the skin, steady as stone. She placed her fingers in his. His hand closed around hers warm, firm, careful not to crush. For one long heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then he drew her gently out, released her the instant her heels met pavement, and fell into step beside her toward the lobby doors. The heat of his palm lingered on her skin long after contact broke…like an invisible brand. Inside, the doorman nodded silently and held the elevator. Jax entered first, checked every corner, and then motioned her in. The doors whispered shut. The mirrored box felt suddenly intimate, air thick. Elena leaned against the wall, watching the floor numbers climb. “You don’t talk much, do you?” “Talking is overrated when people are trying to hurt you.” She huffed a near-laugh. “Fair.” The elevator dinged..her floor. He stepped out first again, scanned the empty hallway, and then waited for her to lead. She punched in the code. The lock clicked open. She pushed the door wide. The loft welcomed her with the soft scent of vanilla from the candle she had left burning earlier, mingled with the faint trace of her signature perfume. Lights were dimmed low; the city glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows like a private performance staged just for them. Jax followed her in, closing the door with a quiet, definitive thud. He didn’t gawk at the view of the art. He mapped the sight lines, exits, and potential vulnerabilities. Elena kicked off her heels, sighing as cool hardwood soothed her aching arches. “You want a drink? Water? Coffee? I don’t know what bodyguards drink at two in the morning.” “Water is fine.” She padded barefoot to the kitchen, filled a glass from the filtered tap, and carried it back. He accepted it without letting their fingers brush. “Thanks.” She watched him drink. The simple motion of his throat working sent an unexpected jolt through her pulse. “You’re staring,” he said without looking up . “You’re in my house. I get to stare.” He set the glass down. “I’m not here to be stared at. I’m here to keep you breathing.” Elena crossed her arms..the silk suddenly felt paper-thin. “I’ve been breathing just fine for twenty-six years without you.” “Not lately.” The words hit harder than intended. She felt the phantom weight of those cream envelopes again..the block handwriting, the single chilling lines that had her triple-checking locks before bed. She turned toward the river view. “I hate this. Feeling like I’m the one who’s dangerous to be around.” “You’re not dangerous. You’re valuable. That’s what makes people stupid.” She faced him again. “Valuable. Nice way to put it.” He held her gaze, unflinching. “It’s the truth.” Silence bloomed….charged, electric, the kind that precedes lightning. Elena broke it. “Priya said you’re the best. Never lost a client.” “I haven’t.” “So I’m safe?” “As long as you listen.” She stepped closer….close enough to see the faint crow’s feet at his eyes, the subtle tick of his jaw when thoughts moved fast. “And if I don’t listen?” His voice lowered. “Then we have a problem.” She tilted her head. “Are you going to manhandle me again?” “If I have to.” The words hung heavy…simple, honest, laced with danger. Heat crept into her cheeks. She blamed champagne, adrenaline, the way he looked at her…. job and complication, duty, and unexpected want. She took another step. “You’re not scared of me?” “I’m not scared of anything.” “Liar.” He exhaled sharply…almost a laugh. “Go to bed, Ms. Voss. I’ll take the couch.” She glanced at the long leather sectional. “You’re serious.” “I’m always serious.” She studied him a beat longer, then turned toward the hallway. “Guest room’s down there. Bed is made..towels in the closet. Do not sleep with your gun under the pillow. I have a thing about firearms near pillows.” He didn’t budge. “I’ll be fine here.” “Suit yourself.” She walked away, hyper-aware of his gaze tracking her retreat. At her bedroom door, she paused, fingers on the knob. “Jax?” He looked up. “Thank you. For tonight.” One short nod. “Get some sleep.” She slipped inside and closed the door softly. Leaned against it. Listened to her heartbeat…loud, fast, insistent. A heart that raced like this yet still felt…safe. What did that mean? She straightened, heading toward the en-suite to shower off the night’s tension. Then…a gunshot cracked through the loft. One sharp report..then dead silence. Elena’s scream lodged in her throat as the bedroom door rattled violently…someone slamming against it from the hallway. “Elena!” Jax’s voice…raw, urgent, edged with fury. “Stay down! Do not open this door!” Another shot.. louder and closer. Glass exploded somewhere in the main room. A voice outside her door…laughing now, breathless and unhinged. “You can’t protect her forever, Harlan.” The lights flickered once. Then everything plunged into black.