The simple solution, offered without judgment or frustration, renders me momentarily speechless. It seems so obvious now, yet I'd been too caught in the spiral of panic to see it.
"And if they argue?" I ask, though I'm already feeling steadier at the prospect of a compromise.
Mateo's smile turns mischievous. "Then I'll remind them that handling the safety and wellbeing of Jade Sinclair is my only job. And I take my job very seriously."
Something about the way he says it, protective without being possessive, concerned without being controlling, sends a rush of warmth through me that has nothing to do with the tropicalheat.
"Thank you," I say, the words inadequate for the relief he's given me. "For noticing. For stepping in."
"Always." He offers his hand to help me up. "Ready to go tell them how this shoot is actually going to happen?"
I take his hand, drawing strength from his steady presence. "Almost." I hesitate, then add, "Will you stay close? While we're shooting, I mean. I think... I think it would help to be able to see you."
His expression softens in a way I've never seen before, something unguarded and genuine breaking through his usual charming facade. "Mi reina," he says, the back of his hand caressing my cheek, "Wild horses couldn't drag me away. Anytime you feel yourself starting to spiral, you find my eyes. I'll be right there."
The promise in his voice wraps around me like a shield. For the first time since arriving at the waterfall, I take a full, deep breath.
"Mi reina," he says again, softer this time.
I meet his eyes and offer a real smile, small but unguarded. "Better than Ice Queen."
"It fits," he says quietly. "You are not cold. You are pure fire!"
The words sink deep, touching something I didn't realize was aching to be seen. Not my face or my body, but something essential underneath it all. Some core of resilience I'd forgotten I possessed.
As we prepare to return to the shoot, Mateo adjusts the flower crown one last time, his fingers brushing my temple with unexpected tenderness.
I straighten my shoulders, feeling strangely armored by both the delicate flowers and his steady presence.
If I can see him, I can breathe.
"Ready."
And for the first time since walking onto this set, I actually mean it.
19
MATEO
"Will you stay close? While we're shooting, I mean. I think... I think it would help to be able to see you."
Her words have been echoing in my head for the last few days. Through the rest of the photoshoot. Through dinners at the resort. Through the drive to the airport. And now, as our plane cuts through darkness somewhere over the Pacific, they're still there, a quiet admission that I can't seem to shake.
She needed me. Not just as security. As something else. Something more.
The sleek cocoon of my first-class suite is quiet. Luxurious. Private. But I can't sleep.
Not with her so close.
My suite on this Emirates flight is ridiculous. A private cabin with sliding doors, a lie-flat bed, minibar, and a television larger than the one I had in my firstapartment. When Jade insisted on booking me the same accommodations she had, I thought she was joking.
"You're not sitting in coach for fourteen hours because of me," she'd said as we reviewed the flight options.
"I've flown in cargo holds with less legroom than coach," I'd countered, remembering missions in countries I still can't name on official documents.
She'd fixed me with that level green stare. "That doesn't make it okay. Either we both have suites, or I'm flying coach too."
I knew she meant it. Just like I knew Ethan would absolutely murder me if I let Jade Sinclair sit in economy, where anyone could approach her, photograph her, or worse. So here I am, surrounded by luxury that makes me both uncomfortable and grateful.
