Page 38 of The Bodyguard

“I see what you try so hard not to show.”

“Because if I show it, I can’t take it back.”

“You don’t need to,” he said. “Not with me.”

She felt the burn at the back of her eyes. Not tears—she didn’t cry. Not even after the crash, or Rick’s arrest, or the moment she’d stood in front of her campaign staff and realized one of them might be trying to destroy her.

But this was different. This was intimate in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

Mitch stepped forward. Not to touch her. Not to cage her in. Just to be close enough that she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t affected.

“You have a choice, Andi,” he said quietly. “Keep pretending you’re bulletproof and get killed—or admit that you need backup and let me do what I’m here to do.”

She shook her head slowly. “You think this is easy for me?”

“No. I think it’s the hardest damn thing you’ve ever had to consider.”

Her voice cracked. “You don’t understand?—”

“I do. You think trusting someone again means giving up the power you fought to reclaim. But it doesn’t. Not with me. I don’t take. I hold.”

The word hit her so deep it made her knees feel unsteady.

Hold… Not control… Not dominate… Not use… Hold.

She looked up, really looked at him. The man who’d seen her at her worst. Who’d pulled her from a press ambush without flinching, made her tea when she was unraveling, and intercepted a tail like it was just another Tuesday. Who’d stood outside her bathroom door without knocking, without questions, just a presence.

“I don’t know how to let someone else take the lead,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to know,” he said. “You just have to try.”

And that—that was the thing that finally cracked her. Not the threat. Not the surveillance. Not even the thought that someone she trusted was feeding intel to the enemy.

It was Mitch. Standing there. Unmoving. Unshaken. Unyielding… and offering her something no one ever had before.

Safety without strings. Control without cruelty. Dominance without destruction.

She stepped toward him. Just one step. Enough to close the space. Enough to feel the heat of him, to breathe in the scent of spice and command.

“If I give you that trust,” she said, barely above a whisper, “what do you do with it?”

“Everything you need and want,” he said, “and nothing you don’t.”

Andi’s breath caught. Her body wanted to fold into him. Her pride wanted to bolt. But her heart—her gut—told her that this was the line she couldn’t keep dancing around.

“I hate this,” she said. “Feeling like I’m giving something up.”

“You’re not giving it up,” Mitch said. “You’re giving it to me.”

She closed her eyes.

“Say it,” he whispered.

Her throat worked, her voice breaking just a little. “I trust you.”

When she opened her eyes, he was still watching her. But something in his expression had shifted—softened. Just slightly. And then he reached out. One hand. Flat against her cheek. Not forceful. Just firm.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

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