“You’re okay.” I frame her face with both hands, searching for injuries, for signs of trauma beyond the fear I can see in her eyes.
“Someone was in my room,” she says, her voice wavering.
“Nobody is going to touch you. We’ll talk when we get back home.” I pull her against me, one hand cradling the back of her head.
Enzo and Breck exchange a look over her head. They’re exhausted, too, but running on adrenaline.
The SUV is waiting, surrounded by three additional security vehicles. Adam, the head of our security team, stands by the door.
“Mr. Jacobs.” He inclines his head. “Everything’s ready at the penthouse. The full perimeter sweep was completed an hour ago. No anomalies.”
“Good.” I guide Remy toward the vehicle, my hand never leaving the small of her back. “No one in or out without my explicit approval.”
“Understood, sir.”
The drive into the city is silent except for Remy’s occasional shaky breath. She sits between Enzo and me while Breck takes one of the captain’s seats, all of us needing to maintain physical contact with her.
I’ve spent the last six hours orchestrating her protection. New security protocols. Upgraded systems. Background checks on every person who has access to any building she frequents. I’ve called in every favor, leveraged every connection, and allocated whatever resources necessary to ensure we put an end to the threat.
But as I watch her stare out the window at the pre-dawn city, I realize control over external threats isn’t enough. The fear in her eyes, the tremor in her hands—those are things no security system can fix.
We arrive at the penthouse, and I have faith in our abilities to keep her safe here. I personally designed the security system five years ago, and since Trent’s first note, I’ve upgraded it twice. Biometric scanners at every entrance. Cameras covering every angle. Panic buttons in every room. Reinforced windows.
It should make me feel better. It doesn’t.
Remy stands in the middle of the living room, taking in the changes I’ve made during her absence.
“Ansel.” Her voice is quiet. “This is a lot.”
“It’s necessary.” I move to the windows, checking the street below. “Trent got into your hotel room. He breached securityat one of the most exclusive hotels in Paris. That means he has more resources than we thought.”
“I know.” She wraps her arms around herself. “But turning your home into a fortress isn’t the answer. What’s next, a moat? Guard dragons? Should I expect a drawbridge by Tuesday?”
“It’s not a fortress. It’s protection.”
“It feels like a cage.” She meets my eyes, and the fear has been replaced by something more intense. “I can’t live like this.”
“You can.” I close the distance between us. “You will. Because the alternative is unacceptable.”
“The alternative being?”
“You getting hurt.” Even I can hear the edge in my voice. “You being afraid. You looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”
Her expression softens. “Ansel, I don’t want to live like this.”
“I need you safe, Remy.” I reach out, then stop myself, my hand falling back to my side. “I need to know that you’re protected. That no one can touch you.”
She grabs my hand. “No one can promise that.”
“I can and I will.” I take a small step closer to her.
She studies my face, and I wonder what she sees. The control freak who can’t let go. The man who thinks he can solve everything with enough money and planning. The oldest brother, who has spent seventeen years trying to protect everyone and has failed more often than he has succeeded.
“You haven’t slept,” she observes.
“Neither have you.”
“That’s different. I was on a plane.” She squeezes my hand. “When did you last eat?”
