Page 18 of Protected By Her Daddy

I shake my head. “I guess truth is stranger than fiction.”

“All you need to know is that you’re safe.”

“I am now.”

He squeezes my hand gently, and something shifts inside me. It’s more than gratitude; it’s the tender blossoming of trust budding tentatively in my chest. He has this aura of strength, of unwavering competence. I’ve seen him scan a room, eyes flicking from one corner to the next, constantly aware. Maybe that’s why people lean on him—they sense he can carry their weight without faltering.

“Thank you,” I whisper for what I’m sure is the millionth time, unsure what I’m thanking him for this time. For the strength of his warm hand, for the rescue, for the morning air that suddenly doesn’t feel so cold when he’s close?

“Anytime, little bird.”

I lean my head against his shoulder, his warmth a solid reassurance. We’re two people on a bench, yet I can’t ignore the fierce protectiveness radiating from him. The bustling city around us seems distant, like background noise to a scene that belongs only to us.

“Maybe we could walk a bit more?” I suggest. The idea of moving again is daunting, but I’m weaker than expected and need to rebuild my stamina.

“Only if you’re sure,” he replies, concern etched in the lines on his forehead. “Remember, you need to make it back.”

I smirk. “Maybe one of the MI guys can carry me back.”

He rises beside me, towering like a skyscraper, guarding me from the elements. “The only person carrying you will be me.”

Did I imagine the undertone of possessiveness in his voice? I guess I’m a little possessive of him too.

My legs are shaky, like a newborn foal, but I keep going, each step a silent victory. I’m vaguely aware of Luther and Ethan following us at a discreet distance. Gabriel sure does take my safety seriously.

My nose twitches as a delicious aroma hits me—rich, earthy coffee blended with the sweet, spicy scent of cinnamon.

“Can’t beat the smell of cinnamon buns, huh?” Gabriel chuckles, catching my longing glance toward the café up ahead. “Let’s stop for coffee and a bun. Unless you’re still full after that monstrous breakfast you put away this morning?”

I grin. “Wanna share?”

He smiles. “Sound good.”

Sharing a cinnamon bun with Gabriel adds another layer of joy to the dream I’m not ready to wake up from.

“Come on.” He gestures toward the café with a smile that tells me he knows exactly what kind of effect this small kindness has on me.

“Lead the way,” I reply, trying to match his ease. It’s just a man offering a girl coffee and a bun, I tell myself. But as we step into the café, it feels like so much more.

We find a small table near the window, the hum of morning chatter inside the café strangely soothing. Luther and Ethan are nowhere to be seen, but something tells me they’re not far away. I can’t help but wonder how I ended up here. A girl with nothing to her name enjoying coffee with a man who could buy the entire block if he wanted to, while two security guards keep watch outside.

“Would you like cream or sugar?” Gabriel asks, holding out the little containers like peace offerings.

“Both, please.”

I watch him prepare the coffee, studying his strong, capable hands as he stirs in the condiments with precision. It’s a simple act, but even this he does with a confident grace that’s mesmerizing. What would those hands feel like sliding over my skin, touching me in places no man has ever touched me?

“Here you go,” he says, cutting off my dreamy thoughts as he slides the cup toward me.

I wrap my hand around its warmth, letting it seep into my chilled fingers. He casts his eyes around the room for the third time since we entered before breaking off a piece of the oversized bun and placing it on my saucer.

“Gabriel,” I begin, my anxiety rearing its head. “You’re always on alert. Do you think we’re safe here?”

The question hangs between us. I guess I’m more traumatized than I thought, laden with the weight of my unspoken fears about Gregory and Jerry. But the city is vast. Finding me would be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, right?

Gabriel doesn’t miss a beat.“I make it my business to be aware of our surroundings. And yes, Wren, we’re safe.” He reaches across the table, swiping a blob of icing from the corner of my mouth. I catch my breath at the intimate gesture. I’m becoming addicted to his touch.

I relax against the chair, focusing on the sweet, doughy perfection of the cinnamon bun that makes my stomach do happy flips.

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