As sunset turns the Texas sky wild—a brazen glow in horizontal stripes of blue, gold, and rose—I pad back out into the living room, sitting cross-legged on the couch. Maverick stands by the window, body tense, eyes trained on the edge of the property. Vigilant, steady.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks without moving a muscle.
“On the record or off the record?” Anger surges inside. Am I really ready to make the same mistake all over again with him? The mistake that could cost me any chance at freedom?
He turns, dark eyes washing over me, brows furrowed. “Off-duty and off the record.” He grits out the words, like they cost him something.
I hesitate for a moment, questions flitting through my mind like dandelion fuzz in the wind. But I can tell he’s past reflection, his face sheer determination. Whether or not he wants to, whether it’s right or wrong, I know he’ll help me.
I take a deep breath, lick my lips. His eyes drop to my mouth, and the room sizzles. “I made a video,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “An appeal to my fans for help.”
He nods, jaw tense.
“What, no trying to talk me out of it?” I raise an eyebrow.
“I’m here to support you first, Mia. Protect you second and give advice only if you ask for it.”
No one’s ever trusted me so much. My throat tightens, a dangerous sting gathering behind my eyes.
“Okay,” I say, and it feels like two syllables lay me bare before my bodyguard. “Tell me what you think.”
Without hesitation, he crosses the room, carefully taking a seat next to me. Too close to be professional, but still navigating a careful line. I hand him my laptop, and he watches twice, face unreadable, mouth unmoving.
“What do you think?” I ask when I can’t take the suspense anymore.
“Tell me what you want me to comment on.” His voice is warm but guarded.
“If it’s believable. If I make sense. If I should post it.”
His eyes wander to mine, face torn. “I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. But Icangive my opinion on the other two factors, for what it’s worth.”
For what it’s worth.Far more than you may ever realize.
He exhales slowly. “Believable? Yes. Clear and logical? Completely.”
“But?”
“But I can’t shake the feeling Edwin will find a way to use this against you.”
My stomach drops. Not because he’s telling me anything I don’t already know, but because he had the courage to be honest. It could cost him, and he knows it.
“Okay. Then what else do I do?”
The room goes silent. He stares ahead, expression storming. “I faced something similar once. A contract I shouldn’t have been let out of. Only fate stepped in, handling it for me. In your case, though, I don’t feel Edwin will ever voluntarily let go.”
“Agreed.” I want to probe deeper, find out what he means by a contract and fate. But that’s not the conversation we need to have right now.
“You have to find a way to let the public know something is wrong without triggering immediate legal retaliation.”
“Easier said than done,” I huff.
“The risk you’ve awakened a sleeping bear will always be there. But you could minimize it by being more factual, more restrained. By appealing to logic and reason rather than emotion.”
I let the words—and the fact this man is helping me—sink in.
“No accusations yet, just mention of a pattern.”
“Yes,” I whisper, drawing a little closer to him, though I know I shouldn’t. I need to feel Maverick’s presence as much as I perceive it. He doesn’t move away or betray concern, even when our thighs touch on the couch.
