The CEO And Her Bodyguard

3: The Ghost Of Barcelona

Derek stood there, arms loose at his sides, the kind of stance that said he could spring into motion in a heartbeat. His eyes were on me, calm and professional. That should’ve been reassuring. It wasn’t.

I pushed my sunglasses higher up the bridge of my nose, hoping he couldn’t see how tight my chest felt. My skin was already hot from the sun, but now it burned like I’d swallowed something sharp.

Michael broke the silence first. “Derek, why don’t you walk us through the plan?”

Derek’s jaw moved like he’d already prepared for this. His voice was even, steady, not a shred of emotion slipping out. “Twenty-four-hour presence. I’ll stay on the property when she’s here and accompany her when she leaves. I’ll need a full list of her meetings, public appearances, and travel. Routes in and out will be cleared in advance. Emergency protocols will be set for every location. Phones encrypted. Check-ins on the hour.”

The words hit me like a slow, heavy drum. Methodical. Clinical. Like my life could be broken down into bullet points on a checklist.

I tried to focus on his words, but his voice pulled me back somewhere else. To a different night. A different version of him. His voice then hadn’t been this level, this measured. It had been low and rough, right against my skin, saying my name like it was a confession.

My nails dug into the cushioned armrest. I kept my face neutral, but my body betrayed me. My foot tapped. My hand trembled when I reached for my drink.

Michael nodded through it all, not noticing me unraveling in plain sight. “Good. Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

I felt Derek’s eyes slide toward me for just a second. Quick, as if he hadn’t meant to do it. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

Michael’s phone buzzed. He cursed softly, pulled it out, and stood. “Work. Don’t go anywhere.” He gave me a pointed look before walking a few steps away, pacing as he answered.

And just like that… it was just me and Derek.

The air between us tightened. I shifted in my chair, pretending to adjust the silk strap of my cover-up. My throat felt dry, even with the cold glass sweating on the table beside me.

I tried to stay silent. I hoped he would, too. But then, finally, he spoke.

“You don’t have to look at me like I’m a stranger.”

My head turned before I could stop it. His gaze was steady, but there was something in his tone...a quiet reminder.

My heart slammed so loud I thought he might hear it. My fingers curled into my lap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lips tugged, almost a smile, almost nothing. “Sure you don’t.”

I looked away, my sunglasses suddenly feeling like useless armor. “That was a long time ago.”

He didn’t move closer, but I felt the weight of him anyway. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

I sucked in a breath and pressed my palms flat against my thighs. “We don’t talk about that. Not here. Not ever.”

“Understood.” His voice was sharp again, back to business. But I caught the smallest shift in his expression before he shut it down. He remembered. Of course he remembered.

I reached for my glass, but my hand shook enough that ice clinked against the rim. I set it down quickly, pretending nothing happened.

And then my mind betrayed me completely.

Barcelona.

The bar had smelled like citrus and expensive gin. I’d sat there sipping champagne, pretending to read emails, while really watching him from across the room. Black jacket, jaw rough with stubble, eyes on me like he already knew I’d say yes if he walked over.

And I did.

Hours later, sheets twisted around my legs, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his mouth tracing the line of my throat while I clutched him like I was afraid he’d disappear. The way he’d said my name like he was learning it by heart. The way I’d forgotten the world outside even existed.

I blinked hard, and the memory broke apart.

Now he was standing in front of me again. But different. Straight-backed. Professional. Distant.

Michael’s voice cut through, dragging me back. “Good. Then we’re all set.”

He ended his call, walking back toward us with that determined energy he carried everywhere. He had no idea. None. The irony almost made me laugh.

He gestured at Derek. “I trust this man with your life. If anyone can keep you safe, it’s him.”

Safe. The word felt twisted in my chest. Michael had no idea he’d just handed my protection to the only man who’d ever seen me completely undone.

I forced a small smile, nodding. “Of course.”

Derek didn’t flinch. He might as well have been carved from stone. But my stomach flipped anyway.

I bent down to pick up my pen from the table, and it rolled just far enough that I had to reach. Before I could, a hand closed around it. His.

Our fingers brushed.

Just a second. Skin against skin. But it jolted through me like static, and I pulled back too quickly. He set the pen down on the table in front of me, his movements slow, deliberate.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice too quick, too thin.

Michael looked between us, his brow creasing. “You sure you’re okay, Rebekah?”

“Yes.” I picked up my tablet, scrolling fast. “Just tired.”

Michael seemed to accept it, though a trace of suspicion stayed in his eyes. I kept my gaze glued to the screen, even as I felt Derek’s presence settle beside us like a storm waiting to break.

Inside, I was already breaking.

Because my fiancé had just put me in the care of the one man I thought I’d never see again. And now, every hour of every day, he was going to be right there.

Watching me. Protecting me. Close enough to touch.

Too close.