Page 32 of The Forbidden Bodyguard

“An author. How fabulous.” Victoria’s eyes glisten with excitement. “Have you written anything I would know?”

I cringe.

It’s the one question most authors, except the big-named authors, least want to be asked.

“Unlikely.” I smile, feeling myself shrinking.

It’s unlikely she ever will know my work.

Who knows what life will be like when I’m married and if I’ll find myself happy enough to write. If my nightmares are anything to go on, I’ll be in fight-or-flight mode the entire time.

Five years. Five years. Five years.

It’s become my new affirmation.

Five. Years.

Then I can divorce him. Dad said he had a plan and would ensure I could leave the marriage.

He didn’t say how.

“Well, if you write drama, then you might be inspired. Belinda has openly shared her story, so she won’t mind me telling you. Once an early childhood teacher, she had an abrupt career change when her husband lost his ability to walk.”

How terrible! I can only imagine what that would do to a couple’s life.

Absolutely devastating.

Declan steps up beside me, and I glance at him quickly. He is mesmerized by the art, and I smile. His interest surprises me.

Focus on your book, Stella.

So, what do we have here? Like my main character, this artist has gone through a journey of grief, but a different kind. I can channel that pain and how she’s used art to overcome her new world.

“How did it happen?” Declan asks, and I glance at him again.

His shoulders are almost pressed against mine, his heat seeping inside of me like he’s my very own walking heater.

Well, he is hot!

Declan hasn’t taken off his coat and looks even bigger than usual. Very ‘private security,’ dressed all in black with sunglasses on his head despite the cloudy day. I like how safe I feel with him. Sure, he’s only saved me from pedestrians and skateboarders, but he’s very attentive.

“Her husband was a soldier.” Victoria replies, and she squints gently at Declan. “Are you—”

“Navy SEAL, ma’am.”

“I thought so. Thank you for your service.” She smiles.

“Did Belinda leave her job to care for him?” I ask, rubbing my arms, and wonder if this is uncomfortable for Declan.

He no doubt found himself in dangerous situations during his time in the SEAL teams. It’s ridiculous, but I hate knowing he was unsafe. It’s all in the past, but I want to hug him and tell him how glad I am that he’s here. In one piece.

Utterly ridiculous.

My eyes lift to his warily, and I find him watching me. Can he read my mind? He gives away nothing, but I can feel its intensity.

“Yes. When she had time to herself, which was rare, she began painting as a sort of therapy for her grief.” Victoria glances around the walls. “These are her work.”

“Incredible.” Declan’s voice was thick.