Chapter 1

"For the love of God, please tell me you're not out beating some poor guy's ass because he made the unfortunate mistake of breathing the same air as your girl."

"He touched her," I growl to the phone, watching the squirming body on the ground, face bloody, hands clutching his stomach.

I lower myself to him, and his eyes go wild with fear, mouth parting and chest heaving. He raises his palms as if in surrender. When I extend my hand, he flinches and snaps his eyes shut, like bracing for another hit. I almost laugh. Coward little shit.

With deliberate slowness, I wipe the blood on my knuckles on his expensive-looking polo shirt. Mommy and Daddy probably bought it for him, or maybe he used their credit cards to purchase it. Whatever the case, this shirt's gonna end up in the trash bin when he gets home. What a waste.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, brother, but she's not technically yours." My older brother, Cade, sighs. There's a shuffling of papers in the background, and I know he's still in the office. He's been doing some extra work because I'm not around to do my part. So far, he's not complaining. Not that he can actually do anything at this point.

"He touched her while she was sitting on a stool and drinking her margarita."

"Maybe it was accidental."

"He brushed his fingers along her bare back."

"Again, maybe it wasn't intentional."

"He did it slowly, and she flinched. You still think he doesn't deserve it?"

"Fine. He had it coming. A verbal warning would have sufficed, but knowing you, he's gonna need an ice bath for a week."

"Make that a month." The tip of my boot connects with the fucker's shoulder. It's a gentle tap, but I've already done quite a lot of work on him, so he's pretty extra sensitive. He moans and clutches his shoulder like I just dislocated it.

"Jesus. You're a psycho. Remind me to never cross you or even breathe the wrong way around your girl who's technically not yours."

"Fuck you."

"Love you too, brother. Just call me if I need to bail you out tonight. Alvin's out of the country, so the responsibility falls on my lap. Unfortunately."

I end the call without saying goodbye and slip my phone into my back pocket. Now my full attention is back on the blonde guy who's probably regretting getting out and hanging at the club tonight. One can only hope.

"Run," I tell the guy in a voice so low I'm actually surprised he hears it.

He scrambles so fast, as if the devil himself is on his heels. In seconds, he bolts to his car parked a few steps away. The yellow light from the nearby streetlamp casts long, dark shadows as he fumbles with his keys. Even all the way from here, I can see his hands trembling, and he curses when the key doesn't slide in after a few attempts.

The moment he manages to open the door, he doesn't look back. He slams it shut and turns the car on. The engine rumbles, and the headlights barely have time to flicker to life before he floors the accelerator.

I stand there in the now-empty back alley, hands shoved inside my pockets, and watch him speed away, his tires screeching against the asphalt, a cloud of dust billowing behind him.

When I lose sight of him, I turn back to the backdoor and open it, resisting the urge to head back out when the pulsating bass hits me full in the face, the music reverberating in my skull.

Ah, fuck this.

The neon-lit interior hurts my eyes, and I feel a pounding at my temples.

Still, my eyes scan the bodies on the dance floor, darting from one face to another, squinting because I can't see shit. The deafening music grates on my nerves, and it's all I can do not to head to the DJ's booth and punch his face.

Who the hell enjoys listening to this crap? It should be a crime to call it music. It's nothing but noise. Annoying, headache-inducing noise.

Finally, I spot her—long brown hair in a high ponytail. She's raising her hands in the air, dancing with no one in particular, moving her body from left to right.

Sighing in relief, I push through the crowd just to be closer to her and make sure no one ‘accidentally' touches her again.

Katherine Astor.

She chose a short, backless dress tonight made of black velvet fabric. It exposes her back and barely covers her ass, which means I have to be extra alert with wandering hands and men who think every unaccompanied female is fair game.

Fuck them.

Katherine can wear whatever she wants. She can come here wearing nothing but a sack for all I care, but on those nights, I know my hands will be full.

The last guy I punched was the second one tonight. The first scampered like a scared cat after tripping on his own feet.

Pathetic sons of bitches. There's never any shortage of scumbags in places like this.

Finding an empty seat near where she's dancing, I grab a half-full bottle and bring it with me. To anyone looking, I'm just a guy nursing his beer and watching his girlfriend.

How I fucking wish.

Three months ago, I wasn't like this. I was a normal dude. Well, as normal as I could be. I worked at a security firm my brother and I owned. We were who the rich, powerful, and famous called to make sure they were always safe.

I was hella good at my job.

Until I saw Katherine.

Her parents hired us to look after the guests—a mix of celebrities, politicians, and multimillionaires—at their annual holiday party. Everything was normal. No threats, no suspicious guests, nothing.

It was supposed to be a typical gig with a huge payout.

At first, I saw someone standing off to the side, sipping a cocktail. She looked out of place and uncomfortable—shoulders hunched, whole body tensed—as if she was ready to bolt at the first chance.

This intrigued me, so I paid her my full attention. She must have felt eyes on her because she raised her head to stare back at me. When our gazes locked, blood roared in my ears, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

Everything stilled, a split second of suspension, where I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I felt nothing … but her.

Her shiny brown hair cascaded down her back, framing a heart-shaped face.

When she turned the other way, time resumed at double speed.

As the boss, I always hammered into my employees how we needed to be alert all the time, how our spatial awareness could make the difference between safe and dangerous, and how we couldn't afford to get distracted.

For the first time ever, I broke all the rules. Rules I made myself.

There were dozens of people between us, but all I saw was her. I thought she felt the same way too, that she felt the connection between us, the crackle in the air … until she squinted her striking tawny eyes, scrunched her eyebrows, and tilted her head to the side. She rubbed her eyes and widened them, like it would help her see better.

Later on, I learned she couldn't see anything past her arm.

It worked out well for me in the end because she didn't know what I looked like. The following week, I left the company in the care of my brother and applied as a security guard in her office building just so I could keep a closer watch on her. Cade couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it either. Even after I explained, he was in a state of pure disbelief.

I wasn't the type to lose my head because of a pretty face, and we both knew it. Any other woman could stand naked in front of me, and I'd still prioritize scoping out the area for threats.

As a man who believed everything had an explanation, I had none for my behavior. I felt something shift in me, and I knew nothing would ever be the same.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take no more than ten seconds to check who it is and decide it's unimportant. When I look back up, Katherine is nowhere to be found.

Shit.

I swing my gaze frantically, trying to see past the throng of people now jumping up and down. My heart races, and I wonder if she's gone home with someone. Someone I failed to notice.

That's always been my fear whenever she's in the mood to party. It eats at me when I think of her going home with another guy. I mean, it's one thing to beat someone whose advances are unwanted and unwelcome, but if she chooses someone else over me…

I'd rather have someone skin me alive.

With my whole body on high alert, I spring to the entrance, something thick and hot coiling in my stomach. I'm not sure what I'll do to whoever she's with. The one whose only mistake is trying to take what's mine.

I almost fly past the heavy double doors and have to slam to a halt when she turns slightly and her shoulder bumps into my chest. My gaze sweeps her surroundings.

She's alone. She's fucking alone.

Sagging with relief, I take a closer look at her. At first glance, she seems okay—relaxed and happy even. But she slightly sways to the side, and her eyes appear glassy.

But God, she's still the most beautiful girl in the world.

The eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes. The brown wavy hair tied severely, with tendrils escaping the ponytail and sticking to her forehead and the sides of her face. The smudged dark whatever over her eyelids. The smattering of freckles across her cute button nose and full cheeks. The bold red lipstick on her pouty lips.

And of course.

The dress clinging on to every curve and dip. It's hard to keep my head when she looks like this. Katherine is so close I can smell a whiff of her favorite perfume.

I'm so busy staring at her like an idiot that I almost don't catch her as she leans to her side. "Katherine, are you all right?"

She whirls to me, eyes blazing. "Who are you and how do you know my name?"

It doesn't escape me that this is our first conversation. "I work at Astor's. It's my job to know everyone in the building."

Fucking lie. The only one who matters to me is her. The other employees can burn for all I care.

"Why are you here alone, Katherine? Where are your friends?" I'm pretty sure I saw a couple of girls with her when she arrived.

She snorts. "I have no friends. They left me when they realized I wasn't footing the bill."

"Let me take you home."

"I don't even know who you are."

I take out my ID and hand it to her, my fingers accidentally brushing hers. She sucks in a sharp breath and pulls her hand back like she's just been electrocuted. Her eyes are wide when she fully takes me in, but she shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts.

"It's my company ID. You can call HR or the head of security to confirm my identity. You can even send a photo of this ID to anyone."

She tentatively takes the ID and reads it. "Your name's Kieran Knight?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like a made-up name."

My cheeks hurt from stifling a grin, but my humor dissolves when she gives me back my ID and shrugs. She doesn't even call anyone or double-check if I'm lying through my teeth.

Jesus Christ. This is why looking after her is a full-time job. Fine. Stalking. I'm stalking and not just ‘looking after her.' Semantics. Semantics. Anyway, she's always a bit careless about her safety, and that keeps me on my toes.

Katherine massages her temples and sighs. "Fine. I'll let you take me home, only because I can't find an Uber. Where's your car?"

I lead her to my parked 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda in raven black. It's my pride and joy and the first thing I bought with my biggest paycheck. It's not exactly subtle, and it's always guaranteed to make car guys and girls salivate, but it's always been my dream car.

And it's in convertible form, so basically, there are fewer than a dozen others like it in the world.

I open the door to the backseat for her, and when she's comfortably seated, I jog to the driver's side and slide in. I've just slid the key in when she whistles and runs her fingers along the black leather seat.

"The company must pay you well, Mr. Knight."

"Please call me Kieran, and I'm fairly good with finances."

"‘Kay. What's your position in Astor's again?"

"You didn't see my ID?"

"I can see two of you, mister, and I forgot when you mentioned it. Tell me."

"Security guard. I'm usually in the security room where all the cameras are."

"My name's Katherine."

"I know."

"Right. Office security and stuff. Why were you at the club?"

"Saw some friends." I keep my eyes on the road, but my entire being is hyper-aware of her nearness, especially when she leans forward and rests a palm on my headrest. My heart gives an erratic beat, and I'm one second away from turning to her to see how she'll react.

"No offense, but you look too old to be hanging out at clubs."

I can almost feel myself crumble into dust, feeling ancient. How old does she think I am? "I'm 34. I'm not that old."

"Fair point, but you don't strike me as the type who enjoys partying."

I meet her gaze in the rearview mirror and raise a brow. "No offense, but you said you could see two of me. It's safe to assume your judgment is a little off."

My heart squeezes when her laughter fills the space. "You're right. God, I walked in on that one, didn't I?"

She's drunker than I thought because when we get to her apartment, she doesn't even question the fact that I know where to park, where the entrance to her unit is, and what floor she's on.

With her hand pressed against the wall to steady herself, she trips on the stairs and almost falls flat on her face before my arms automatically extend and wrap around her waist. I pull her to me and the closeness has me reeling, my blood rushing to my groin, my head dizzy with desire.

But no. I may have stalked her and explored her private space, even touched and stole her things, but I draw the line at taking advantage of her when she's barely aware of what's going on. If something's going to happen to us, Katherine will know and enjoy every single minute of it.

She continues to stumble, and I figure it's gonna take us longer than thirty minutes if this continues. Without another thought, I sweep her into my arms and carry her all the way to the fifth floor. She slides one hand along my chest and nuzzles my jaw, causing my muscles to grow taut. Every single touch sends electricity zipping through my body, my nerve endings crackling with sparks.

It's the longest walk of my life.

By some miracle, we make it to her door even with my cock straining against my zipper, and I let her down slowly, catching her elbow when she almost sprains her ankle. It takes every ounce of my willpower to let her go.

"Oh no." Katherine's brows furrow in concentration, her fingers rummaging through the contents of her purse. She takes out her glasses and slips them on, then continues her search.

I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms in front of my chest, biting back a smirk.

She left her keys. Again. I shouldn't have been surprised. She was always forgetting something. One time, she was already halfway to the office when she realized she left her phone on the bed. Another time, she spent a good thirty minutes looking for her eyeglasses when she had it on top of her head the whole time. I knew because I may have rented the apartment in the building directly across from hers. I spent several hours sitting by the window with my binoculars and watching her.

The copy of her keys burns a hole in my pocket, so I tap her shoulder. "Katherine, move over and let me try something."

She narrows her eyes at me. "What are you gonna do? I hope you don't break my door. My landlord will kill me."

"No. I'm just gonna try something I saw on TV."

She yawns and rubs her eyes, smearing more makeup under her eyes and on her temple. "Fine. Do it."

Katherine starts to close her eyes, and I take the chance to slide the key and twist, smiling when I hear the faint click. "It's open. Let's get you inside."

I've been inside her place so many times that I absentmindedly reach for the light switch by the door without even looking. I only plan to make sure she's safe, and then I'll leave, which is why I'm half in, half out of her doorway.

"What are you doing to that poor girl, young man?!"

I turn just in time to dodge something swinging at me, missing me by a few inches. It's only thanks to my years of vigorous training that my body reacts even before my mind registers what's happening. Without my lightning-fast reflexes, her wooden cane would have made contact with my temple and forehead and left a bruise.

It's Katherine's elderly neighbor. Dina Schwimmer. A seventy-five-year-old widow who has more cats than I can count. Having been in the security business for over a decade, of course, I want to make sure my girl's safe, that she has no psychotic neighbors … aside from me.

Mrs. Schwimmer shuffles towards me, her gnarled fingers gripping the cane with surprising strength. She widens her eyes at me and throws me a hostile stare. "I'm gonna call the cops on you!"

"I'm not taking advantage of her, ma'am. I'm a security guard working at her office. I saw her at the club. She's drunk, so I took her home."

"Show me your ID."

With a sigh, I take it out of my wallet again and hand it to her. "You can check it, but I have to?—"

"You shut up and look here." Her eyes dart from me to my ID and back. "Let me see if it's the same face. Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can't see clearly."

This is the only human being on the planet who can tell me to shut up and won't likely end up bloody on the floor. "I am?—"

"I tell you to shut your mouth, you shut your mouth. Your name's Kieran?"

The pounding at the base of my skull at the club comes back with an almost blinding force. This old lady is giving me a headache, and I need to get out of here because my patience is wearing thin. "Yes, ma'am. You can check with the?—"

"No need but I'll come with you. Make sure you don't do anything funny to that poor girl."

Realization hits me like a sledgehammer. She's only looking after Katherine, which is no different from what I've been doing. Fine, I'm stalking but same difference. Instead of strangling her in my head, I now want to shower this lady with roses. Maybe even let her berate me all she wants.

We get inside the apartment, and Katherine is slumped on the sofa, her dress riding up her thighs, robbing me of breath.

Mrs. Schwimmer's cane thuds loudly against the floor, and she whips her head to give me the evil eye above her thick-rimmed glasses. "Leave now. I'll take care of her. Go."

"I'll leave you my number so?—"

"For what? We don't need you anymore. Now shoo."

Just like that, I'm back to imagining strangling her. Jesus Christ, what have I gotten myself into?