It's just one more way she's different from other clients I've protected. Most celebrities I've guarded flew private jets while relegating staff to commercial flights, expected us to blend into the background until needed, treated us as functional furniture rather than people.
Not Jade. She insisted on flying commercial. "The carbon footprint of private jets is inexcusable when alternatives exist," she'd explained when I questioned the choice. And made sure I was treated as a traveling companion rather than staff.
That's the thing about her that keeps throwing me off-balance. The moments of genuine considerationthat crack through her carefully maintained professional façade. The woman the world calls the Ice Queen runs hot just beneath the surface, caring about things most people in her position never give a second thought, like the environmental impact of her travel choices and the comfort of her security detail.
And then there were the swimsuits.Dios mío, the swimsuits.
Three days of watching her pose in scraps of fabric that revealed more than they covered. Three days of maintaining a professionally neutral expression while my body betrayed me at every turn. Three days of reminding myself that I'm here to protect her, not to stare at the curve of her waist or the freckles scattered across her shoulders like constellations I wanted to map with my fingertips.
It was torture. Exquisite, maddening torture.
The worst was watching that photographer, Julian, with his European accent and knowing smiles, circling her like a shark scenting blood. The casual touches as he adjusted her pose. The inside jokes about previous shoots they'd done together. The way his eyes lingered on her body when he thought no one was watching.
I wanted to break his fingers one by one. Not because he was a threat. My threat assessment had cleared him days ago. But because he was free to look at her in ways I couldn't allow myself to. Because he was free to touch her.
Jealousy. There's no other word for it. Unprofessional, inappropriate, undeniable jealousy.
Ethan would have my ass if he knew. Hell, I should have my own ass for letting my guard down like this. We have one job. Keep her safe, and feelings just complicate that.
But then she'd panicked at the water's edge, and everything else fell away. Seeing the fear in her eyes, the way her breath shortened and her skin paled, triggered something primal in me. At that moment, my only thought was getting her away from whatever was causing her pain.
I close my eyes, remembering the weight of her hands in mine as I coached her through breathing exercises. The vulnerability in her expression when she admitted her fear. The trust it must have taken for someone so fiercely independent to let me see her at her weakest.
Mi reina.
The nickname slipped out naturally, replacing the "sunshine" I'd been using. It fit her better somehow. Regal even in distress, commanding even when vulnerable.
I've had crushes on clients before. Brief, stupid, surface-level things. But this isn't that. This is rooted in something deeper, something electric and alive and steady all at once.
I glance at the little tray table where she left a wrapped chocolate bar earlier, pressed into my palm with a teasing smile and a wink.
"Payment for rescuing damsels in distress," shesaid.
My jaw tightens. This flight is fourteen hours of torture, because now every detail about her is stuck under my skin. And no amount of charm or protocol is peeling it out.
A soft ping from my phone interrupts my thoughts. A text from Ethan:Any updates?
I type back quickly:All quiet. Landing in 5 hours. She's resting.
His response is immediate:Stay alert.
As if he needs to say it. I will keep her safe.
I rise from the lie-flat bed, restless energy pushing me to check on Jade yet again. I've been rotating between my suite and the corridor outside hers every thirty minutes, hypervigilant in a way that probably crosses the line from professional protection into something more obsessive.
I can't help it. Something about the incident at the waterfall, about seeing her so vulnerable, has triggered every protective instinct I possess. I've guarded politicians, musicians, tech billionaires, but I've never felt this... invested in someone's safety before.
It's not just the job anymore. It's her. Specifically, uniquely her.
Dangerous territory, Rivera. Get your head on straight.
I slide open my suite door and step into the dimly lit upper deck corridor. At this hour, most passengers are sleeping, the cabin quiet except for the distant hum of engines.Jade's suite is directly across from mine, its door securely closed.
As I walk down the corridor to do my routine check, a movement at the opposing end catches my attention. A flight attendant, moving with the practiced silence of someone trying not to wake passengers, is approaching Jade's suite.
Nothing unusual about that, except for the phone in her hand, screen illuminated and camera app open.
My blood goes cold, then hot.
