Rafael

Waking up with Camille still nestled against me felt like a dream I never wanted to end. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, bathing her in a golden glow, making her look almost ethereal. My heart swelled as I watched her, each breath she took steady and peaceful. The memory of last night lingered, and I could still feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her touch. It wasn’t just the passion we’d shared—it was the connection, the unspoken promises, the way she had unknowingly filled the empty spaces inside me.

She stirred slightly, her head resting against my chest, and I couldn’t help but brush a strand of hair from her face, marveling at how something so simple could feel so intimate. Last night had changed everything. I wasn’t the same man I was before, and neither was she. In that moment, with the world quiet around us, all I knew was that I’d do anything to protect her. She was my world now.

She was mine now, in every way that muttered. Mine.
The thought consumed me, and I wasn’t about to let anything or anyone take her away from me. If anyone dared to touch her, I wouldn't just make them dissappear - I'd make them suffer in ways they couldn't even imagine.  I'd tear apart their world, destroy everything they loved, starting with their family, their friends,  leaving nothing but devastation in their wake. And when they had nothing left, I'd drag them into the darkest corner of their own mind, make them beg for mercy that would never come. I'd watch as their screams echoed into the emptiness, and only when they fully understand the price of crossing me, of touching what was mine, would I grant them the release they have been begging for. Death.

Carefully, I shifted closer, pulling her into me, my arm wrapping tighter around her waist as I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. She stirred slightly, her breath steady, but didn’t wake. I gazed down at her, her peaceful face nestled against my chest, and a wave of emotion surged through me—pride, adoration, something deeper. Camille was mine, and nothing was more certain in that moment. My fingers gently traced through her hair, down to her bare shoulder, savoring the warmth of her skin. The need to protect her consumed me. My enemies would do anything to get to me, and the thought of them even thinking about hurting her chilled me to the core. But it only fueled my resolve—nothing was going to touch her, not while I was here. Not ever.

Later that morning, as Camille sat on the terrace enjoying her breakfast, her eyes closed against the soft breeze, I stepped away, slipping my phone from my pocket. The call was necessary—urgent even. Marco’s voice greeted me on the other end, businesslike and direct, but this wasn’t just about business. “Double the guards,” I ordered, my voice low but firm. “I want extra men stationed around the estate, twenty-four hours. No one comes or goes without my explicit permission.”

“Consider it done, boss,” Marco replied without hesitation, already understanding the gravity of the situation. But I wasn’t finished.

“And make sure the perimeter is checked every hour. I want eyes everywhere—on every road, every blind spot. If anything seems off, I want to know about it before it becomes a problem.”

I hung up, taking a moment to breathe deeply before glancing back at the terrace. Camille was sitting there, her smile soft and serene as she enjoyed her meal, completely unaware of the layers of protection I was weaving around her. Her world was one of peace and simplicity, a stark contrast to the one I lived in—the one I was doing everything to keep her shielded from.

She waved at me, her smile still bright, and I forced a casual nod in return, trying to hide the weight pressing down on my chest. How could I keep her safe without pulling her deeper into the darkness? The more distance I could create between her and the dangers circling my world, the better. But that distance was a fragile illusion, and I knew it wouldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, she’d have to face the reality of who I was, and I needed to prepare her for that.

The thought of anyone getting close to her, of anyone daring to touch her, made my blood boil. It was a line no one would cross—not if they valued their life. But I wasn’t just relying on my men, on the extra guards or surveillance. Camille needed to learn how to protect herself. She didn’t know it yet, and it wasn’t something I could just spring on her without scaring her off, but it was necessary. I would find a way to make her understand, to teach her without revealing too much.

For now, I’d keep her close and watch her every move from the shadows. No one would get near her. No one would even try. She was mine, and I’d die before I let anyone take her from me.

That afternoon, I planned something a little different—a "date," though Camille had no idea of the real purpose. To her, it probably seemed like a romantic afternoon getaway, just the two of us, away from the estate. But for me, it was about something much more practical.

We arrived at a private location, far from the city, the kind of place no one would stumble upon accidentally. The drive was scenic, quiet even, and Camille seemed relaxed, leaning into her seat and enjoying the serenity. But as we turned onto a narrow road leading deeper into the woods, I noticed her eyebrows knit together in curiosity. The surroundings were peaceful, but secluded in a way that felt deliberate.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, her eyes flicking toward me with a mix of intrigue and confusion. There was an edge of playfulness in her tone, though, like she was half-expecting me to have some grand romantic gesture up my sleeve.

I smirked, pulling the car to a stop in front of an empty clearing. I stepped out, moving to the trunk, and pulled out a pair of gloves, some padded gear, and a few other essentials I had prepared for the day. Camille followed me, standing beside the car, her arms folded across her chest, still trying to piece together what I was up to.

“Today,” I started, my voice low but teasing, “we’re doing something a little different.” I could see the curiosity deepening in her gaze, so I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. "You trust me, right?"

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but then a soft smile curved her lips. “Of course,” she replied, though I could tell she was still trying to figure out where this was going.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer, until our bodies were flush against each other. The warmth of her skin against mine was comforting, but I knew what had to come next wasn’t going to be quite so gentle. Leaning down, I brushed my lips against her ear, my voice low and intimate, “Good. Because I want to teach you how to fight.”

She pulled back, her expression shifting from playful curiosity to outright surprise. “Wait, what?” She blinked at me, her brow furrowed, clearly trying to process what I had just said.

I chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as I held her gaze. “You heard me,” I repeated, my tone steady, but serious. “There are things in my world that you can’t run from, Sunshine. And if something were to happen... I want you to be prepared. I want you to know how to protect yourself.” I took her hands in mine, running my thumb over her knuckles. “This isn’t about fear. This is about power. Your power.”

Her hesitation lingered for only a moment, her eyes searching mine as if to see if I was really serious. Then, slowly, that familiar fire lit up in her gaze, the one that had always drawn me to her. Camille was many things—resilient, strong-willed, unafraid to face the challenges in front of her. But seeing that determination flicker to life in this moment made me proud. She wasn’t someone who backed down.

“Alright,” she said after a moment, her voice steady but still laced with uncertainty. “Let’s do this.”

I smiled, feeling a surge of pride swell in my chest. “Good,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Let’s get started.”

We moved to the clearing, and I handed her the padded gloves, explaining the basics as we went. At first, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the uncertainty in her movements. But with each passing minute, as I showed her how to throw a proper punch, where to hit if someone grabbed her, and how to use her surroundings to her advantage, she grew more confident.

“Here,” I said, standing behind her as I guided her arm into position. “If someone grabs you from behind, use your elbow. Aim for the ribs, hard.” I demonstrated the movement with her, guiding her through the strike. “You have to be quick, decisive. No hesitation.”

She nodded, her focus intense, and then tried the move on her own. I watched, impressed by how quickly she picked it up. “Perfect,” I said, stepping back and watching her repeat the motion. “Now, if they’re in front of you, aim for vulnerable spots—throat, eyes, or groin. You don’t have to overpower them, just outthink them.”

Camille bit her lip, concentrating as she followed my instructions, throwing punches and strikes at the padded gear I held up for her. With each hit, her confidence grew, and I could see the tension in her shoulders ease. She was getting the hang of it, and every time she nailed a move, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

“Not bad,” I teased as she landed another solid punch against the pad. “You’re starting to get the hang of this.” I grinned at her, and she smiled back, her cheeks flushed, strands of hair sticking to her forehead from the exertion.

By the time we finished, she was panting, her body glistening with a sheen of sweat, but there was something different in her stance now—stronger, more sure of herself. She wasn’t just learning to fight; she was learning to take control, to own her power in a way that I knew she could.

I stepped closer, pulling her gloves off and tossing them aside before cupping her face in my hands. “You’re incredible, you know that?” I murmured, my voice soft as I leaned down to kiss her. The kiss was slow, lingering, a contrast to the intensity of what we had just done, but it was no less passionate. She melted into me, and I couldn’t help but smile against her lips.

When we finally pulled apart, I brushed my thumb over her cheek. “You’re going to be unstoppable,” I whispered, my voice filled with certainty. And I meant every word.

As we packed up, Camille’s smile never faded, and I knew that this was just the beginning. Teaching her self-defense was only one part of the plan. There would be more, but for now, I had planted the seed. Camille would never be caught off guard. Not while I was around. Not while I had the power to protect her.

************

The atmosphere in my home office was thick with tension, the air heavy as Marco stood before me. His expression was stern, mirroring the gravity of the situation. We had spent the better part of the last hour going over the latest security reports, but my mind kept drifting to Camille. She was in the other room, blissfully unaware of the lengths I was going to in order to shield her from the dangers of my world. Every precaution, every decision, was about keeping her safe. The stakes had never felt higher.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling deeply as I spoke. “Did you double the guards?,” I asked, my voice quiet but filled with the weight of my authority. “I want surveillance tightened around the entire estate. No one comes or goes without my explicit permission.”

Marco’s pen moved swiftly across the pages of his small black notebook as he noted every instruction, his face impassive. “Understood, boss. What about the shifts? Should I rotate the teams more frequently?”

“Every twelve hours,” I confirmed, rubbing a hand across my forehead. “And make sure no one gets complacent. If anyone slips up, they’re done. I don’t care who they are.”

Marco nodded, jotting down the final note before looking up at me. His eyes flickered with the kind of quiet understanding he’d developed over years of working with me. He knew I wasn’t the kind of man who left anything to chance.

“And about Camille…” I hesitated for a moment, my eyes drifting to the papers scattered on my desk. The plans I was making for her were extensive, but they were necessary. I couldn’t afford to let her know the full scope of it yet—she wouldn’t understand. “I’m setting up safe zones,” I continued, my voice firmer. “Places she can go if things get out of hand. People I trust with my life. They’ll know to protect her, no questions asked.”

Marco’s brow furrowed slightly, a rare hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. “Safe zones? You’re going that far?”

I nodded, the tension in my chest tightening. “She’s mine, Marco. And I won’t let anyone touch her. Not even for a second. I’ll burn the world down before I let that happen.”

There was a long pause as Marco absorbed my words, his face still, but his eyes conveyed a deeper understanding. He had seen this before—my relentless need to protect what was mine. He knew better than to question it. But before he could respond, the sound of footsteps approached the door. I stiffened, already knowing who it was.

The door creaked open, and there she was - Camille, an unexpected vision that stole the breath from my lungs. She stood in the doorway dressed in nothing but one of my shirts,  the soft fabric draping sensually over her delicate frame. The sleeves were too long, bunching slightly on her wrists, while the collar slid off one shoulder, exposing the smooth grace of her collarbone and the graceful line of her neck. The shurt barely covered the top of her thighs, leaving her legs exposed,  long and tempting.  The hem grazed her skin with every subtle movement, hitting at the softness beneath.

Her hair slightly tousled,  as if she'd just gotten out of bed, and her lips were parted in surprise, unaware of the impact she was having on me. The way the shirt clung loosely to her, brushing against her curves, sent a wave of heat surging through me. I could see the outline of her body beneath the thin material,  the faintest hint of her silhouette teasing my senses.

I felt an instant surge of possessiveness. Marco was still in the room, and there was no way I could let him see her like this.

Without a word, I moved quickly, grabbing my coat from the chair nearby and crossing the room. Camille gave me a puzzled look as I draped the coat over her shoulders, trying to shield her from Marco’s gaze. “Rafael, what are you—?”

Before she could finish, I hoisted her up, tossing her effortlessly over my shoulder. She gasped in surprise, her hands instinctively grabbing the back of my shirt for balance.

“Rafael, put me down!” she demanded, her voice muffled as she kicked her legs slightly in protest. “I was just here to call you for dinner! And we’re not done talking about this safe zone business!”

I smirked to myself, ignoring her complaints as I nodded toward Marco. “We’ll continue this later,” I said, my voice sharp. He gave me a knowing look, quickly gathering his things and slipping out of the room.

As I carried Camille down the hallway, she continued to squirm, her complaints spilling out in a frustrated string. “You think setting up these zones will solve everything? I don’t want to live like some protected asset, Rafael!”

Her words tugged at me, but my grip on her only tightened. “You’ll thank me later,” I growled, pushing open the door to our bedroom and stepping inside. I could feel the heat of her skin against my shoulder, the soft curve of her body reminding me why I needed to protect her.

“This is ridiculous!” she huffed, still protesting as I kicked the door shut behind us. I gently lowered her onto the bed, the coat slipping from her shoulders as she sat up, her eyes blazing with frustration.

I leaned down, my gaze locking with hers. “You can complain all you want, Sunshine,” I said, my voice low and dangerous, “but I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not now, not ever.”

Her anger faltered for a moment, her lips parting as she stared back at me. She knew I meant every word.

Camille’s frustration lingered, but as I leaned closer, my fingers gently brushed her cheek. “I don’t expect you to understand everything right now,” I whispered, my voice softening. “But I need you to trust me.”

She looked up at me, the fire in her eyes dimming, replaced by something softer—something that made my chest tighten.

“I do trust you, Rafael,” she murmured, her hand reaching out to rest against my chest. “But this isn’t easy.”

I pulled her into my arms, kissing her forehead. “Nothing worth it ever is.”