Page 55 of The Bodyguard

Not at her. At Mitch. Beside her, Mitch’s stance changed. He didn’t move a step, didn’t reach for a weapon, but she felt it—his whole body shifted from protector to predator.

Andi didn’t dare look away. Not now. “He’s daring you to come to him.”

Mitch’s voice was ice. “Let him. I don’t play games, and I don’t bluff.”

She wet her lips, carefully. “He knows something, Mitch. Or he thinks he does.”

“I’m already on it.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m about to walk into an ambush in heels?”

“Because you are,” he said, gaze never wavering. “The only difference is now you’ve got backup.”

The words shouldn’t have steadied her. But they did.

Still, she couldn’t shake the knot in her stomach—not from fear for herself, but for Mitch. Whatever Wexler was planning, he wasn’t after her career anymore. He was aiming for something else. Something harder to protect, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

She looked up at him, vulnerability flashing in her eyes. "Mitch, if anything happens to you because of me…"

He silenced her with a finger to her lips. "Nothing's going to happen to me. My job is to protect you, Andi. Let me do that."

The air between them thickened, the unspoken words hanging heavy. Despite the danger, despite the chaos, the pull between them was undeniable.

"Andi," he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek. "I need you to trust me."

"I do," she whispered, leaning into his touch.

As they stepped back into the throng of guests, Andi couldn't shake the feeling that the night's events were only the beginning of a more sinister game being played—a game where the stakes were higher than ever, and the cost of losing was more than she was willing to pay.

The shadows in the museum’s east wing stretched long and theatrical, casting clean lines over polished marble and glass. Andi moved through it like she’d rehearsed for a play she didn’t remember auditioning for, all smiles and handshakes, her body humming with the steady burn of awareness.

Of Mitch—he hadn’t left her side all night. Not once.

Not when the press surged at the front steps like wolves sensing a break. Not when the fourth donor in a row decided to test just how available the councilwoman was despite her firm, polished laugh. And certainly not when Rick Wexler had appeared smug and serpent-sleek, acting like he belonged in a space she’d nearly bled to defend.

And through it all, Mitch stayed close—closer than protocol demanded. A steady hand at the small of her back when they moved from room to room. A firm palm at her waist when they paused for photos. Once, when she’d turned too quickly and nearly bumped into a catering tray, he’d caught her elbow and leaned in close enough for his breath to graze her cheek.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he’d said, his voice low and sure. “Slow down. Breathe.”

She had. But only because he told her to. She hated that about him, but she kind of loved it, too.

The buzz of the gala had settled into a rhythmic drone by the time they reached the fourth exhibit room. Glass installations. Reflective surfaces. A thousand versions of herself in polished steel, all of them standing just a little too stiff.

Mitch kept his gaze moving as they walked, his expression carved in stone. But it wasn’t impersonal. Not tonight. Tonight, he touched her like they were something more. Like the rumors weren’t just useful, but deliberate.

Each contact was light. Just fingertips brushing the small of her back. The pad of his thumb against her wrist as he handed her a glass of water. The slow, deliberate way he adjusted the strap on her gown when it slipped slightly down her shoulder—like the room didn’t exist. Like she belonged to him and no one had the right to look.

Andi sipped her wine slowly, hoping it masked the war inside her chest.

“You good?” he asked, his voice pitched for her ears only.

“I’m fine.”

He tilted his head slightly, unconvinced.

She didn’t elaborate. Just gave him her most practiced campaign smile and scanned the next cluster of guests for anyone she needed to talk to—or avoid.

“Stop,” Mitch said suddenly, the authority in his voice like a tether.

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