I keep my voice cool and my expression impassive as the three men in my living room turn to face me. The familiar mask settles into place: chin slightly raised, eyes unblinking, shoulders back. The same composure I've perfected since I was twelve years old, standing before cameras that captured everything but the truth.
The one who was just talking, Mateo, I think Gloria called him, has the decency to look embarrassed, his golden eyes widening and cheeks flushing. Good. He should be embarrassed.
I've spent my entire adult life being judged by people who think they know me based on tabloid garbage. I'm not about to let three strangers into my life who've already decided who I am before they've even met me.
I turn on my heel and walk away. His voice has already told me everything I need to know: disgust, condescension, that practiced smirk he probably uses on all his "difficult" clients.
"Miss Sinclair," the tallest one says, stepping forward with controlled movements that speak of military training. His intense blue eyes and authoritative presence mark him as the one in charge. "I apologize for my colleague's comments."
"Don't," I respond, keeping my tone flat. "I'd rather know exactly what I'm dealing with."
Gloria rises from her seat, moving toward me with that concerned expression I've come to know too well, the one that says she's about to push for something I don't want.
"Jade, please. I know you don't want security, but after what happened in New York..."
"I told you I'm fine," I cut her off, folding my arms across my chest. "It was just some random... incident. We don't even know what really happened. Maybe I was mistaken for someone else."
The words sound hollow even to my own ears.
I feel all eyes on me now, and I hate it. On the runway or in front of a camera, I know exactly who to be, what face to show. Here, in my home, in loungewear with no makeup, I feel exposed.
"Do you really think you could be mistaken for someone else?" the third manasks.
His voice is deep, almost startlingly so, coming from his massive frame. A jagged scar runs down one side of his face, drawing immediate attention. He watches me with muted intensity, the kind of person who notices everything but reveals nothing.
I press my lips together, unwilling to discuss it, but Gloria answers for me.
"You know better than that, Jade. When someone strikes you in the head and leaves you unconscious to drown, it's personal."
The memory flashes unbidden: the cool water of the hotel pool, the sudden, searing pain at the base of my skull, the disorienting sensation of sinking, lungs burning. If another hotel guest hadn't entered the swimming pool at that exact moment and spotted me struggling in the water…
I push the thought away quickly. "I was careless," I say dismissively. "One incident doesn't justify hiring a private army."
"It won't happen again because you'll have protection," Gloria insists, the usual firmness in her tone. "And not just any protection. Cross Security came highly recommended."
"By whom?" I can't keep the hurt from my voice. "You didn't even tell me you were looking for security, let alone inviting strange men into my home to insult me."
The leader, Cross, I assume, steps forward again. "Miss Sinclair, regardless of whether you hire us, you should consider professional security. If someone deliberately targeted you…"
"The last security team I had, spent more time leaking my schedule to paparazzi than actually protecting me," I interrupt. "No offense, but I'm sure I can find bodyguards who don't already dislike me based on gossip columns."
Mateo takes a step toward me, his expression now contrite. "Look," he says, hands raised, voice all smooth edges, "about earlier, I didn't mean it like that."
"You didn't mean to say I was a drugged-up diva who brings this all on herself?" My tone cuts like a razor.
He blinks once, his smile flickering. "Okay. Maybe I meant it a little. But in my defense, I thought you weren't in the room."
My laugh rings sharp and hollow. "That's your defense? That you only trash your clients behind their backs? Charming."
"I'm just saying, maybe we got off on the wrong foot."
"I don't care what foot we got off on. What I want is your feet walking away from my house." I turn back to Gloria, ignoring him completely. "Thank you for your concern, but I don't need them. I'll be more careful."
Gloria's expression shifts from concern to something more serious. "Jade, there's more you need to know." Sheglances uncomfortably at the three men. "Perhaps we should discuss this privately."
"Ms. Hayes," Cross interjects calmly, "whatever you've been holding back, please share it. We can only protect her with complete information."
"That won't be necessary!" My voice rises despite my best efforts. "Haven't I made myself clear? Why are you three still standing in my living room? Please leave!"
