Color floods her face.
"I run a company," she continues, trying to regain ground. "I have board meetings, investor calls, site inspections that can't be rescheduled."
"Then they get rescheduled or they happen with me standing in the room watching." I hold her gaze. No room for negotiation here. "You came to Rapier Strategic because someone's huntingyou. That means your life is now my operational priority, and I don't give a fuck about your board meetings. Either you accept my authority over your safety or you walk out that door and see how long you last on your own."
"You're very direct."
"I'm very tired of watching people get killed because they thought they knew better than the professional trying to keep them alive." I stand, move around the table. Invade her space. Let her feel the difference between corporate posturing and actual dominance. "So let's be clear about something right now. You're not in a boardroom. You're not negotiating a contract. You're sitting in front of someone who's seen exactly what happens when stalkers escalate from photographs to action. Your choice."
She stands as well. Meets me with that corporate CEO spine, trying to match my energy. "And if I don't like your protocols?"
I smile. Not the friendly kind. "Then you're welcome to find someone else who'll accommodate your preferences while you're getting stalked. I'm sure there's a firm out there that'll let you keep running your company exactly like you want while someone's planning how to make you scream."
Color drains from her face.
"That's what you're not getting."
I step closer. Close enough that she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. Close enough that she can't pretend this is just business. Her breath catches. Just enough that I hear it. She goes perfectly still, like something in her recognizes the space between us as territory she doesn't control.
"Whoever's doing this has studied you. They know what you're chasing. They know what makes you fight. They've documented every moment you perform in those private rooms, and now they're going to use that knowledge to break you.Unless you actually surrender that control to someone who knows what the fuck they're doing."
Her breath catches. Eyes dark, unfocused. Arousal despite her best efforts to maintain control.
There it is. Her body responding even when her mind won't surrender.
Simone's fingers tighten on her purse. She's trying to regain control, trying to find her footing. "What exactly does moving into your guest house entail?"
"It means your life belongs to me until we neutralize the threat." I don't step back, don't give her space to breathe. "It's a private two-bedroom structure on the family property. You get your own bedroom but I'll be in the house with you. My room is on the ground floor. Security protocols include scheduled check-ins, an approved visitor list, no unauthorized departures. Every professional commitment gets vetted. Every meeting gets assessed. Every decision about your safety runs through me, and you don't question it."
"For how long?"
"Until I say otherwise." Simple. Direct. "Could be a week. Could be a month. Depends how quickly we trace the security breach and locate your stalker."
She swallows. The professional facade is cracking now, fear bleeding through despite her best efforts. "And you're certain this is necessary?"
"I'm certain that someone who knows exactly where Dominion's cameras don't reach has been documenting your scenes for weeks." I let that sink in. "I'm certain their threats are escalating. I'm certain they're preparing to move from watching you scene to making you scream. What I'm not certain of is whether you're ready to stop playing at submission and actually surrender control to someone who can keep you alive."
A direct hit. She inhales sharply, pupils dilate. The words land exactly where I aimed them.
"When do we start?" Her voice is quieter now. Still trying for defiance but it's threaded with something that sounds like need.
"We already started." I step back, move to the conference table. Pull up the contract on my tablet.
I slide the tablet across to her. "It's a standard Rapier Strategic executive protection contract. Thirty-day initial term with an option to extend. I have full operational authority over your security protocols. You agree to follow my directives regarding your safety without negotiation, without delay, without your corporate bullshit getting in the way."
She scans the screen, frowning. "I don't think that's how the contract reads."
"That's how I read it." I lean against the table. "You can sign or you can walk. Once you sign, I control the security decisions. No negotiation. Your schedule belongs to me. Your movements belong to me. Your safety belongs to me. And you don't get to negotiate, test boundaries, or pull that bratty submissive routine you probably use in private rooms. Clear?"
She stares at me. Processing what I'm actually offering. Not just protection. Absolute authority. Complete control.
Her hand shakes slightly as she picks up the stylus.
She signs.
"Good girl." I take the tablet back. The words feel right. "Now here's how this works. You go back to your office with two of my operatives as escort. You handle any immediate business that can't wait, then they bring you to the mansion by seven this evening. You pack light because you won't need much. Understood?"
"I have meetings tomorrow."
