Page 21 of The Bodyguard's Innocent Obsession
Lucien steps back, smoothing his bloody sleeve with forced calm. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” he says coldly. “This won’t end the way you think it will.”
But the only thing that answers him is the cold click of cuffs around his wrists as a cop steps in, shoving his arms behind his back.
“You have the right to remain silent...”
Lachlan’s already at my side. His arms wrap around me in an instant, solid and sure, anchoring me like a storm has just passed, and he’s the only shelter left in the world. I let out a shaky breath and press my face to his chest, trembling from head to toe.
His hand cups the back of my head, holding me close.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice low and fierce. “I’ve got you, princess. You’re safe now.”
I can’t speak. I can barely breathe.
But all I can think, over and over, as his heart pounds against my ear, is... he came for me.
He really came for me.
Chapter Nine
Lachlan
Arabella’s mother clutches her daughter like she’s afraid to let go, brushing her hair back over and over even though it’s already neat. Her father hovers a step behind, his eyes red-rimmed, voice low as he asks if she’s alright for the tenth time.
They returned from their trip to D.C. about an hour ago, a few minutes before we returned home after giving our statements at the police station. And they haven’t let Arabella out of their sight since.
She’s holding up well. Tired, pale and shaken, but solid. Her chin lifts a little higher with every question. She nods, reassures, and even manages a small smile.
She’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for. Maybe even stronger than she realizes.
I stand near the entrance to the living room, back straight, arms crossed. Watching. Not speaking. Not moving.
I don’t belong in that moment. Not with her family. Not in their bubble of soft voices and tearful relief. I’m here to protect her. And I almost failed.
If we’d been even five minutes slower...
I clench my jaw, the rage simmering low in my gut again. No, I’m not going there.
Senator Prescott steps away from the couch and walks toward me, adjusting his cufflinks like he’s trying to collect himself. His expression is a strange mix of tension and gratitude. His voice is low when he speaks.
“I know she’s probably already said this, but thank you. For what you did today.” He pauses. “For bringing her back safe.”
I incline my head. “My pleasure, sir.”
He nods once, satisfied, and heads back to his wife and daughter.
Arabella glances over her shoulder just as he’s walking away. Her eyes find mine like they’re drawn to me by instinct. There’s something unreadable in her gaze. Something that flickers just under the surface.
Longing. Relief. And something deeper. Need, maybe. Trust.
She clears her throat and rises slowly from the couch.
“I’m going to go shower,” she says lightly, but her voice is softer than usual. “I feel… gross. I want to wash the day away.”
Arabella turns and heads toward the stairs, not looking back this time.
I manage to wait two full minutes before I follow. But every step feels too slow. Every second too long.
I keep my face unreadable as I pass the staff and other agents in the hall, all of them too busy restoring order to look at me twice. But inside?
