“Thanks.” Justin blew out a breath. “And you were right. Ditching security was reckless. I got complacent. And worse” — he nodded toward the two vehicles rented under an alias — “I broke protocol using a traceable car.”
Anders gave a crooked smile as he opened the front door. “Let’s not make a habit of it.”
“You have my word.”
He was fine risking his safety, but not Suzette’s. What he said to Anders was true — the anonymity here had made him complacent. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
His next call was to his publicist.
She answered on the first ring. “Tell me you’re calling because you miss my sunshine personality.”
He couldn’t even muster a smile. Emily Waters was many things, but sunshine wasn’t one of them.
“Not today,” Justin said quietly. “I need you on high alert. Someone might have taken pictures of me with … someone. At a grocery store in Stellenbosch.”
He heard the instant shift in her tone — bright to razor-sharp. “Tell me what I need to be on the lookout for.”
“Emily—” His throat tightened unexpectedly. “She’s important to me. Very important.”
A beat of silence. Then a short, incredulous bark of laughter. “Don’t tell me the invincible JK has finally been felled by a woman?”
“Like a hundred-year oak.”
Another telling pause. “Wow. Okay then. I’m on it, JK. Send me her details and a photo or two. I’ve got your back. As always.”
He closed his eyes. “Thanks.”
After the call, after sending images he’s taken during the wedding and adding Suzette’s details, he stepped out onto the balcony and looked toward the hotel. A coil of dread wound tight along his spine. Fame was a double-edged sword. Today, it had swung dangerously close to Suzette.
And he’d do anything to keep it from cutting her.
He really hoped that it did not entail walking away from her.
*
The next morning, a soft knock on the open office door was followed by an excited, “Mies Suzette, he’s here.” Alma’s broad grin practically swallowed her face.
Suzette’s heart somersaulted. One hard, traitorous flip she felt all the way to her toes. “Thanks, Alma,” she managed, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
Their day yesterday had ended on a low note, and she needed to clear the air. No more unfinished moments hanging between them. He’d said he heard the unspoken message —she would never be second to another man again.
There could never be anything between them.
It was unrealistic to think otherwise.
The thought twisted through her as she closed the spreadsheet and rose from her chair, smoothing a hand down her blouse as if that might quiet the flutter in her chest.
A quick detour through the kitchen to collect his order — Chef’s Special — and she stepped out onto the patio, sunlight spilling across the wooden planks as she made her way toward him.
Every step felt like a contradiction.
Part of her wanted to retreat, to protect the fragile places he kept reaching for. The other part — the reckless, hopeful part — carried her forward.
He sat with his back to her, cap in place, the curls at his nape escaping through the gap above the Velcro strap. One forearm rested along the armrest, relaxed, the sun glinting off his watch in brief, bright flashes. He looked so at ease, so unaware of the storm twisting through her.
She resisted the sudden, treacherous urge to throw caution to the wind and simply embrace everything he was offering. To step into that easy warmth, that steady presence, and let herself fall.
But she knew better.
