The Ride Into His World
1190 Words
The police lights painted everything in flashes of blue and white as Will guided Amelia toward the sleek black car parked at the curb. His hand hovered near her back-not touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. Protective. Alert. Focused entirely on her.
She hated how much she noticed it. Security formed a wall around them. Grace watched with worry carved into every line of her face. Annie hovered behind her, eyes wide, chewing her lip like she was witnessing the beginning of a scandal she would gossip about for weeks.
Will opened the back door for Amelia. "Get in." She crossed her arms. "I'm not a puppy."
Will's eyebrow lifted. "You're right. Puppies listen."
She glared at him and he didn't flinch.
A siren wailed from the street behind them. Grace stepped forward, squeezing Amelia's hand. "Call me when you get there. And don't argue with him."
Amelia's mouth fell open. "You too? Mom-"
"He saved you," Grace said firmly. "Let him keep doing it. Just for tonight."
Will said nothing, but his eyes softened at Grace's words, like he respected her more deeply than he wanted to admit. Amelia huffed, muttered something under her breath, and slid into the car. Will followed, closing the door behind them. The car was silent, insulated, warm. The city noise vanished as the driver pulled away from the chaos.
They sat across from each other in the dim interior-her arms crossed, his long legs spread slightly, hands resting on his knees, studying her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve.
"You're glaring," he said lightly.
"I'm always glaring. You just keep giving me new reasons." Will's mouth twitched. "If I stop breathing, will that help?"
"No," she said flatly. "Your breathing isn't the problem."
"What is?"
"You."
His smile widened just a little. "Good. I'd hate to be boring." She rolled her eyes, but her pulse betrayed her, thumping hard against her ribs.
Damn him.
The car turned sharply. She steadied herself on the seat, but Will leaned forward, one hand shooting out to grip her wrist.
"You're hurt," he said, voice suddenly low and sharp. She looked down.
A thin red line streaked across her forearm. She hadn't even noticed. She frowned, brushing a thumb over it. "It's just a scratch."
He shook his head, jaw clenching. "That was meant to be a bullet." She met his eyes. "It missed."
"You don't get it." His fingers tightened slightly. "Tonight was planned. Coordinated. They wanted you alive enough to chase but close enough to kill if needed."
"So someone hates me," she said dryly. "Shocking."
His eyes burned into her. "This isn't normal enemy hatred. This is obsession."
"Do you know something?" she asked quietly. Will hesitated. And that was all she needed.
"You do," she whispered.
He sat back. "Not enough yet."
"But enough to look like you're about to murder someone." Will didn't deny it.
The car slowed as they reached a gated entrance. High walls. Security cameras. Guards with scanners. The gates opened instantly when they saw the car. Amelia raised a brow. "Your house?" Will didn't react. "My home is the safest place for you tonight."
"Again," she muttered, "not your responsibility."
He leaned forward slightly, voice low. "When someone tries to kill you in front of me, it becomes my responsibility."
Her breath hitched and she looked away immediately.
The estate was beautiful. Modern. Stark. Glass and steel and clean lines. A fountain glowed in the center of the courtyard. The car stopped and Will stepped out, offering a hand.
She didn't take it-but she also didn't shove him when he placed a gentle hand on her back to guide her inside. Warm lights lit the entry hall. High ceilings. Expensive art. A subtle smell of cedar and citrus.
"It's... big," she muttered. Will shrugged. "I don't use half of it."
"Lonely billionaire vibes." His lips twitched. "You're not wrong."
A tall man in black approached, nodding respectfully. "Sir. Everything secure. Panic systems active. Cameras set. Perimeter tightened." Amelia blinked. "Is this... normal for you?"
Will dismissed the man. "This is normal when someone targets you."
"Again with the 'you' thing."
"Again with the pretending you're not in danger thing." She glared and he ignored it.
They walked deeper inside. The atmosphere changed. Warmer. Softer. More lived in. He opened a door on the right.
A cozy room lit by lamps. Dark leather couch. Bookshelves. A fireplace.
His study.
"Sit," he said. She raised an eyebrow. "Commanding, aren't we?"
"Only when you nearly get shot."
She sat reluctantly. He knelt in front of her-not sitting, not standing, kneeling-and reached for her injured arm. She let him take it, mostly because she was tired, partly because he touched her like she was breakable, even though she'd never been anything close to that.
He cleaned the scratch with antiseptic. His fingers were gentle. Too gentle.
"You're quiet," he said.
"You're kneeling," she replied.
"Should I stand?"
"No," she said before she could stop herself. He looked up at her slowly. Electricity zipped between them, sharp and hot.
"Amelia," he murmured, "I need you to tell me something." She swallowed. "What?"
"Do you have any idea who might want you dead?"
Her jaw tightened.
Images in her mind. Red lights. Screaming. Her father's blood. The scar on her back burning like a live wire.
She looked away. "More than one person." Will's expression darkened. "Start talking."
"Why?" she whispered. "You're not my bodyguard."
"No," he said quietly. "But I'm the one who's going to keep you breathing."
Her lips parted but she didn't respond.
Will stood, moving closer, lifting her chin with one finger. Slowly. Carefully. Like touching her was something precious.
"You're safe here," he said.
"Am I?" she whispered. He leaned in, voice a warm breath against her skin. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Her heartbeat betrayed her again. She shoved him back gently. "Don't get too comfortable." Will smiled, soft and dangerous. "You keep saying that."
"You keep ignoring it."
"You keep pretending you don't like that." She froze.
He stepped away before she could answer, giving her space she didn't ask for and didn't expect.
"Get some sleep," he said, nodding to the hallway. "Your room is next to mine. If you need anything-"
"I won't."
"I know." He smirked. "But if you do... you know where to find me."
She walked past him, refusing to meet his eyes. He watched her go and she felt it.
And she hated that she liked feeling it. But the moment she reached the bedroom door, she paused.
"Will?" she said without turning.
His breath caught. "Yes?"
She hesitated. "Thank you."
Silence.
"Always," he said softly.
Her stomach flipped.
She entered the room, closed the door, and leaned back against it, exhaling shakily.
Her heart wasn't supposed to react like this.
Not to him.
Not now.
But Will?
Will reacted too.
He stood in the hallway, fists clenched, jaw tight, eyes on the floor. Because he knew something she didn't. Something that made saving her tonight only the beginning.
- Writer
