His brow furrows slightly, confusion flickering across his face. "You required protection services for a social engagement. The parameters were clear."
"That's the thing. I didn't really need protection." The confession tumbles out, clumsy and rushed, my hands twisting together in front of me. "I needed... I needed Derek to see that I had moved on. That I was fine. Better than fine. That I was with someone incredible and successful and?—"
"Intimidating," Kruk finishes, his voice flat.
"Yes." I wince at how terrible it sounds out loud. "I'm sorry. I know I should have been clearer in the contract about what this actually was. A fake relationship. A performance. But then you showed up with the tuxedo t-shirt and the battle axe and you were so serious about the mission, and I didn't know how to tell you that?—"
"That I am a prop." Each word lands like a stone dropping into still water, heavy and final. "A weapon aimed at your former mate to prove your worth."
My stomach twists, nausea rising hot and acidic in my throat. "No. God, no, that's not... that's not what I meant."
"It is what you hired me for." He takes a step back, creating distance between us. "To perform the role of devoted partner. To intimidate. To prove a point."
"That's what I hired you for," I agree desperately, moving toward him, closing the gap he just created. "But that's not what this is anymore. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Watching you today, the way you handled Monica's meltdown, the way you fixed that cake like it was the most important mission you'd ever been assigned..."
I press my palm flat against his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, steady and strong.
"I'm falling in love with you," I whisper, the words cracking on the way out. "And I don't know what to do about it becauseyou're supposed to be fake and you're the realest thing I've felt in years."
His hand covers mine, holding it against his heart. For three seconds he doesn't speak, doesn't move, just stares down at me with those dark, intense eyes.
Then a voice cuts through the moment like a blade slicing through silk, shattering the fragile intimacy we've built in this secluded corner of the vineyard.
"I knew it! I fucking knew it!"
We both turn, Kruk's body instantly shifting into a defensive stance, positioning himself slightly in front of me even as my hand is still pressed against his chest. His entire demeanor changes in a heartbeat, from vulnerable and open to the tactical, mission-focused warrior I first met. Every muscle in his body goes taut, coiled and ready for a threat.
Derek stands three rows over, his phone held up, recording, a triumphant sneer twisting his features. He waves a printed piece of paper in his other hand.
"I knew something was off about you two," he shouts, starting toward us through the vines.
My blood turns to ice.
CHAPTER 10
KRUK
The male approaches through the grapevines with the overconfident swagger of someone who believes they have already won. I catalogue the threat level automatically: soft hands, poor posture, zero combat training. Annoying but negligible.
Still. He is holding evidence. Evidence that could hurt Colletta.
That makes him dangerous in a way my fists cannot solve.
"Stay behind me," I tell her quietly, though she has not moved from where her hand still rests against my chest. I can feel her pulse through her palm, rabbit-quick and frantic.
Derek waves the printed paper like a banner of conquest. "Bodyguard. Event security. Intimate protection detail." He reads from the page, his voice dripping with theatrical glee. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice how fake you two were? The way she flinches every time you touch her, like she's surprised you're allowed? The way you look at her like she's a mission objective instead of a girlfriend?"
The accusation lands crooked. I do look at her like a mission objective. Objectives must be protected, secured, kept safe from all threats. This seems reasonable.
But I also look at her the way a drowning man looks at air.
"The contract was clear," I say, my voice level, tactical. Giving nothing away. "Colletta required protection services for a social engagement. I provided those services."
"Oh, so you admit it!" Derek's grin widens, shark-like and vicious. He angles his phone to capture us both in the frame. "This is perfect. Wait until Monica finds out her sister hired some muscle-bound freak to pretend to be her boyfriend. That'll definitely make the toast memorable."
Colletta makes a small sound behind me, wounded and scared. The noise triggers something primal in me, something that wants to break Derek's recording hand in three places and feed him his phone one shattered piece at a time.
I breathe through it. Channel the rage into something useful.
