"You know what I mean," Ethan says, but the edge has left his voice. "Just... be vigilant. We still don't know who we're dealing with or what their end game is."
"Or if they'll follow her to Bali," I add, voicing the concern we've all been considering.
Ethan nods grimly. "Which is why we're not taking any chances. Standard protocols, elevated threat level. Mateo, I want daily reports, morning and night. Any anomalies, anything that feels off, I want to know immediately."
"Copy that, Boss," Mateo agrees, sobering. "I won't let her out of my sight."
A silence falls over us, each lost in our own thoughts. Despite our professional demeanor, the truth hums beneath the surface: what started as a standard protection assignment has become something more complicated for all of us.
I move to the window, looking out over the pristine pool reflecting the morning sun. Beyond it, the main house stands majestic and isolated, like its owner. From here, I can see Jade on her terrace, reading something, a slash of copper hair against white cushions. Unaware of our discussion, our division of duties, our growing concern.
"She doesn't realize how serious this is, does she?" I ask, eyes still fixed on the window.
"No," Ethan says quietly. "And I'd rather keep it that way. She's already wound tight about this shoot."
I glance back at him. "Why? What's got her so on edge?"
Ethan exhales, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Gloria mentioned she's been avoiding the pool since the attack. Hasn't gone near the water. And if you checked the itinerary, the shoot's at a waterfall. It's like unintentional exposure therapy."
I frown. That hadn't clicked for me until now.
"She's trying to play it cool, like always, but she's barely sleeping. Pushing through it, but she's frayed. And thisshoot is a big deal. Major visibility. No room for cracks to show."
Mateo speaks up, tone unexpectedly serious. "Then the last thing she needs is more pressure. Let her focus on the work. Leave the stalker in the background. If we do our job right, she shouldn't have to think about it at all."
I study him, seeing beyond the carefree exterior to the sharp observer beneath. "You notice more than you let on, Rivera."
He grins, but there's a seriousness in his eyes I rarely see. "That's why I'm good at my job, Old Man. People reveal themselves when they think no one's really watching."
The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Is that what's happening with Jade? Is she revealing more of herself because she thinks we're just doing our jobs, just watching the perimeter, not really seeing her?
"We should wrap this up," Ethan says, checking his watch. "I told Jade we'd brief her on the Bali security arrangements at four."
"I'll go pack," Mateo says, gathering his equipment. "Beach clothes, sunscreen, and enough firepower to take down a small army. The usual vacation essentials."
His joke falls flat in the serious atmosphere, but I appreciate the attempt.As he heads for the door, Ethan calls after him.
"Mateo."
He turns, one hand on the doorframe. "Yeah, Boss?"
Ethan's face is unreadable, his voice carefully neutral. "Take care of her."
Three simple words that somehow contain layers of meaning beyond professional obligation. Mateo holds Ethan's gaze for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them.
"Always," he says finally, and it sounds like both a promise and a challenge.
After he leaves, Ethan and I stand in silence. What remains unsaid fills the space between us. Our growing attachment to a woman we're paid to protect, the blurring lines between duty and desire, the complications ahead.
"I don't like this," I admit. "Splitting up the team when we still don't know what we're dealing with."
Ethan's gaze is steady, his voice calm but firm. "We don't have a choice. She has obligations. We adjust and adapt."
"And if something happens?" I press.
"Then Mateo handles it," he says with unexpected conviction. "For all his joking, he's one of the best I've ever worked with. I trust him with my life." He pauses, looking toward the main house.
"And with hers," Ethan adds. But the weight in his voice says more than just trust. It says surrender.
