Behind the Spotlight

Shadows Closing In

The sun crept into Ariana’s penthouse, streaking gold across polished glass and marble floors. For once, she hadn’t woken to her alarm or her restless thoughts. She woke to the sound of muted voices...men’s voices....coming from her living room.

Her body tensed instantly.

She pushed the duvet back and slipped into her robe, tightening it around her as she padded toward the noise. The sight that met her made her stop mid-step.

Damian.

He stood tall in the centre of the room, broad shoulders dominating the space. He wasn’t in the suit from last night but in a black T-shirt that clung to his frame and tactical-looking jeans, like he could spring into a mission at any second. Around him were two men Ariana didn’t recognise, dressed in dark polos with earpieces.

“What the hell is this?” Ariana demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

Damian turned. His gaze swept over her....first relief that she was awake, then a flash of something he quickly masked. “You’re up.” His tone was controlled, calm. Too calm. “Good. Meet your new security detail.”

Her eyes widened. “My what?”

“Additional protection,” he said flatly, as though he were announcing the weather. “After last night’s break-in, it’s non-negotiable. No one comes in or out without clearance. Surveillance is already being upgraded.”

Ariana blinked, trying to catch up. She’d gone to bed shaken but exhausted after Damian had forced her to rest. Now she was waking up to what looked like a private military takeover in her own home.

“You hired people without asking me?”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask. I acted. There’s a difference. And given that someone managed to get that close to you with a camera, I’d say my judgment is better than your pride right now.”

Her mouth fell open. “My pride? Are you kidding me?” She stepped closer, heat rising in her chest. “This is my home, Damian. My sanctuary. I don’t want strangers in my kitchen while I’m drinking coffee in my pyjamas!”

The two security men shifted uncomfortably, clearly wishing the floor would swallow them whole. Damian, on the other hand, didn’t flinch. He folded his arms, and God help her, the movement only emphasised how solid he was.

“You want normal?” His voice was low, edged with steel. “Normal doesn’t exist for you anymore, Ariana. Not until we find out who’s behind this. You’re a target. That means precautions come first....comfort comes second.”

Something in her wanted to scream at him, throw him out along with his hired soldiers. But another part...the part that still remembered the weight of his arms around her the night before, steady and unyielding....felt the ground shift beneath her.

Her lips parted, but no retort came out.

Damian must have noticed because his eyes softened, just a fraction. “Go eat something,” he said finally. “You’ve got a meeting with your manager at ten. I’ll brief you in the car.”

Ariana narrowed her eyes. “Brief me? Damian, you’re not my drill sergeant.”

“No,” he admitted, stepping closer until there was only a breath between them. His scent....clean soap, faint leather....wrapped around her senses, grounding and infuriating all at once. “But I’m the only thing standing between you and someone who wants to hurt you. So, yes, Ariana, I’m calling the shots on this.”

Her pulse spiked. She hated the arrogance in his tone, but damn it, she couldn’t ignore the raw certainty in his eyes. He wasn’t bluffing, wasn’t posturing. He meant every word.

“Fine,” she snapped, though it came out weaker than she wanted. “But they stay out of my bedroom.”

Damian’s lips curved...just barely. Not a smile. More like the shadow of one, sharp and knowing. “Deal.”

By ten o’clock, Ariana sat at the long glass conference table in her manager’s office, sunglasses perched on her nose and a latte in hand. On the surface, she looked every inch the unbothered superstar. Inside, however, she was still simmering from the morning showdown with Damian.

Across from her, her manager, Celeste...sharp bob, sharper tongue...was scrolling through her iPad, lips pursed. A couple of PR assistants lingered nearby, tapping notes on their tablets.

“This is bad, Ari,” Celeste announced without preamble. “The photos are already circulating. Fans are speculating about your security being breached. The gossip blogs are calling it a ‘stalker scare.’” She air-quoted dramatically.

Ariana took a slow sip of her latte. “So we release a statement. Something vague but calming. You’re good at spinning, Celeste. Spin.”

Damian leaned casually against the wall near the door, arms crossed, an immovable shadow. “Or,” he said flatly, “you stop pretending this is a PR hiccup and treat it like what it is: a real threat.”

All eyes turned to him. Ariana’s team stared as though they’d just realised a very large, very unwelcome wolf had wandered into their meeting.

Celeste arched a brow. “And you are?”

Before Ariana could respond, Damian’s voice cut through like a blade. “Damian Cole. Head of her security detail.”

Head of her security detail? Ariana nearly choked on her latte. When exactly had he promoted himself?

Celeste’s smirk didn’t falter. “Well, Mr. Cole, this is a publicity strategy meeting. Security concerns aren’t on the agenda.”

“They are now,” Damian countered, tone clipped. “If Ariana isn’t safe, there won’t be a career left for you to strategise over.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged. Ariana’s heart thudded as she glanced between them. She should step in, smooth things over and remind Damian that bulldozing people wasn’t how Hollywood worked. But some reckless, secret part of her enjoyed watching him rattle Celeste.

Celeste cleared her throat. “Be that as it may, Ari, I suggest we schedule a photo op....show the fans you’re fine. Something lighthearted, maybe a charity event?”

“No.” Damian’s voice cracked like a whip. “No cameras. No crowds. Until we assess the level of threat, she stays low-profile.”

Ariana whipped her head toward him. “Excuse me? My entire career is cameras and crowds. You don’t get to pull me off the map because it makes you feel better.”

Damian’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t look away. “You want to stay alive? Then yes, I do.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. “You can’t just...”

“I can,” he interrupted, stepping away from the wall now, his presence swallowing the room. “Because if I don’t, whoever’s out there gets another chance. And next time, they might not settle for breaking into your place.”

The words hit her gut like a stone. For a moment, the room faded, and all she could see was the memory of her trashed apartment

By midnight, the city had quieted, but Ariana couldn’t sleep. She wandered into the living room of her penthouse, silk robe wrapped loosely around her. The glass walls overlooked the skyline, glittering like a thousand watchful eyes.

Damian was there, of course...parked on the couch, laptop open, earpiece in. He looked infuriatingly alert for someone who’d been on guard all day.

“You know,” Ariana said softly, “normal bodyguards don’t act like drill sergeants. They don’t hijack meetings, bark orders, or glare at managers until they almost faint.”

Damian closed the laptop, slow and deliberate. “Normal bodyguards don’t deal with stalkers who get inside your building.”

Her chest tightened. He wasn’t wrong, but she hated being reminded. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

He stood, and suddenly he was too close, his height and heat pressing in on her. “Glass doesn’t bleed, Ariana.”

The quiet weight of his words stole her breath. For a moment, neither of them moved. His gaze dipped briefly to her lips, then snapped back up to her eyes as if he regretted it.

Her pulse skittered. “You can’t just… control me, Damian. I’m not one of your soldiers.”

“No,” he said, voice low, rough. “You’re worse. You’re someone who doesn’t listen.”

Her laugh was soft, nervous. “And yet, here you are. Stuck with me.”

Something flickered in his eyes....frustration, maybe desire, maybe both. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Here I am.”

For a heartbeat, the city outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them suspended in dangerous silence. Ariana’s fingers curled against the silk at her waist, torn between stepping back and leaning in.

Then Damian exhaled sharply, breaking the spell. He moved past her toward the balcony doors. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another fight.”

Ariana stood frozen, heart hammering. She should have felt safer with him there, but instead she felt like she’d just survived something else entirely...something far more dangerous than stalkers or headlines.