Page 51 of Quiet Protector
The tightness in Brandon’s shoulders doubles when I demand him to answer my question by saying his name in a low, gravelly tone. I still loathe my developing voice, but I hate it even more when its pitched with sadness.
After a quick scan of the room, Brandon shifts on his feet to face me. “I’m not protecting you from Henry. I’m protecting you from the people who will hurt him by hurting you.”
“What?” I’m wholly and truly lost. “Why would Henry be hurt if I were hurt? That doesn’t make any sense…” My words clog in my throat when my run-in with Henry last month filters into my head. His eyes were more empathetic than you’d expect most mob bosses to have, particularly when he was cupping my cheeks in a loving, possessive way.
They had the same spark they have now when he spots me across the room. He’s finished his chat with his friend, who’s making his way back to the main section of the gala. He looks like he wants to approach me, but the fast fanning of Brandon’s tuxedo jacket stops him. He’s carrying, and the expression on his face assures Henry he’ll have no hesitation using his weapon if it keeps him away from me.
Realizing I’m not worth a bullet wound, Henry dips his chin in farewell before he once again vanishes into the darkness of the night. I want to demand for Grayson to leave him alone when he’s quick to follow Henry’s retreat, but I lose the chance when Brandon pivots around to face me. He cups my cheeks as he did earlier, except this time, absolute awe isn’t filling his eyes. Panic is.
“Are you okay?”
Although I’m still embarrassed I thought there was more behind his kiss than there was, and I’m overwhelmed with guilt, neither of those things are life-threatening, so I nod instead of shaking my head like I really want to. “I’m fine, just a little confused.”
Brandon’s thumbs swipe at my cheeks as he says, “That’s understandable. We have a lot to discuss.” As his eyes dance between mine, his tongue darts out to wet his lips. I can tell the exact moment he tastes my mouth on his. His nostrils flare as the faintest pink coloring creeps across his cheeks. I just have to hope his response isn’t one full of remorse. His actions tonight are too contradictive for me to trust my intuition. It led me astray during our kiss. I won’t let it happen again. “Is there somewhere we can have that discussion…” he steps closer to me, hiding both his face and the movement of his lips from Fetu. “… in private.”
“Tiny is my… bodyguard.” Since I’m embarrassed that I need a protective detail, it takes longer to express my last word. “Julian is adamant Tiny goes anywhere I go.”
I assumed my comment would put Brandon on the defensive, so you can imagine my surprise when he keeps a cool, calm, and collected voice while asking, “What about when Julian is around? Does Tiny still hover like an annoying fly then?”
An ill-timed grin attempts to break across my face when Brandon’s muttered words reach Fetu’s ears. He glares at him, looking like he wants to snap him like a twig, but mercifully, he maintains his protective stance from afar.
Although half of me still wants to tell Brandon to go to hell, the other half is too inquisitive to know when to back away. “He’s less intrusive when Julian is around, so perhaps we should take this back to my room. Julian is there waiting for a call.”
I regret my decision in an instant when Brandon mutters, “Even gazillionaires have to wait for calls? Who would have known?”
“He’s not a gazillionaire.” I wait for the annoyance on Brandon’s face to shift halfway to pleased before muttering, “But he’s pretty damn close. He’s off by a billion or two.”
My comment was cruel and demoralizing, but one hundred percent necessary. It evened the playing field between us, ensuring both Brandon and my heart knows our kiss meant nothing. He was merely doing the job my father taught him to do, and once again, has me regretting my unusual upbringing.
As I turn toward Fetu to announce we are leaving, I spot the man I saw chatting with Henry earlier breaking through the hundreds of attendees of the gala. He’s possessively clutching the waist of a pretty brunette as he makes a beeline for the hotel’s valet parking bay. The worried expression on his face jumps onto mine when the woman he’s sheltering swings her eyes to Brandon. It isn’t the concern for him seen in her eyes that has my heart rate jumping, it’s the nasty snarl of a second dark-haired man on her left. He isn’t a fan of Brandon, which is surprising because most people love him. Furthermore, I swear I’ve seen him before, but I can’t recall where exactly.
Before I can work through half my confusion, Brandon stacks a heap more into my head. Instead of acting like Fetu isn’t in the room with us, he demands him to take me back to my room and not let me out until he says so.
“I beg your pardon,” I snap back, yanking out of Fetu’s hold. “I’m not a child. You can’t banish me to my room because your date got carted out of here by another man.”
My jealousy is unwarranted, but there’s no forsaking it. It clutches at me as vehemently as Brandon signing, “Seek shelter now.” He only ever signed those words when the situation was beyond his control, or he was scared. Today it appears to be a combination of them both.
“Please be careful.” Since fear is strangling my senses, I sign my worry instead of verbalizing it.
Only once Brandon dips his chin, wordlessly agreeing to my request, do I allow Fetu to guide me toward the elevator banks. Every step I take is done with hesitation. I’m not just fearful Brandon is sprinting headfirst into danger, I’m petrified I am seconds from being in the same room as Julian again. Not even on my darkest days can I lie to him.
I don’t see today being any different.
20
Brandon
As soon as the elevator doors snap shut with Melody and the giant she calls Tiny on the inside, I make my way to Hugo standing on the footpath outside of the hotel. The veins in his neck pump as rapidly as his fists clench and unclench.
“What’s going on? Why did Isaac drag Izzy out of here like her life was in danger?”
I swear to God, if I fucked up by chasing the wrong cartel entity, I’ll hand in my gun and badge first thing tomorrow. All intel pointed the finger at the Castros. The only surviving member of that syndicate is fighting for his life in a hospital as locked down as Fort Knox is, so why the fuck did Isaac rush Isabelle out of here the way he did? I get he’s a little possessive when it comes to her, but he agreed for her to spend the weekend at my family’s ranch, so it isn’t like her attendance at the gala was a surprise to him.
“Did it have anything to do with Henry Gottle’s pop-in visit?”
That piques Hugo’s interest. “Henry was here?”
I lift my chin. I could have left him in the dark, but his responses are telling me honesty will work better for me. “They were chatting outside just a few minutes ago.”
