Gabe

_________________

There are certain parts of this job that make me want to put a gun to my head, and shopping is one of them. I'm posted at the back of some high-end designer boutique with Jack and Denaro's henchman, Bailey, while Stu trails behind Kat and Evangeline, ensuring every corner is covered.

Clearly bored out of his mind, Bailey folds his beefy arms, tilting his head slightly as Evangeline browses some underwear. The corner of his eyebrow lifts, but he knows better than to say a word in front of me.

We'd never met before Denaro had him set up as extra security before the flight, but he's made it clear from the start that my every move is being watched and reported on, even if he hasn't explicitly said so.

For once, I'm on my best behavior.

Unfortunately for me, Piccola isn't. I watch as she lifts a pair of lacy pink underwear and shows them to Kat, whispering something that makes them both look over. They're strikingly similar to the white pair I'd discarded in the hotel room, except these are a tad more sheer.

My jaw tightens. I can't stop myself from imagining what they'd look like on her, and I know that's exactly what she wants. She's still punishing me, and damn it, I'm letting her, soaking up every second of it.

I force myself to look away, focusing instead on the line of palm trees swaying outside the store. The sun is blazing, and from this spot, I can see all the way to the ocean. But there's no enjoying the view—I'm too on edge, constantly scanning the street for any sign of the paps.

So far, no one's caught on that she's in Miami and not in LA, giving us a brief moment of peace. But with their decision to go shopping today, it won't be long before the chaos starts.

If I had my way, she'd have stayed inside the hotel until the premiere, but I'm not the one calling the shots, even when her safety is at stake. The moment she got Stu's backing, it was game over. I doubt he'd be so quick to side with her if he knew the full truth about her stalker, but that's one promise I'm determined to keep. At least, for as long as I can.

Evangeline moves around the store without a care, her long summer dress swaying with each step. She and Kat giggle and whisper to each other, their heads close together as they inspect various items. Every so often, she glances over at me, a playful smirk tugging at her lips before she quickly looks away.

My eyes follow the way her hips move beneath the soft fabric, the dress hugging her curves in all the right places. It flows around her legs, teasing me with every slight movement. The way she casually brushes her fingers over the lace, her lips curling in amusement as Kat says something that makes them both laugh—it's driving me insane.

What I'd give to rip that dress off her, to feel the heat of her skin under my hands, to have her pressed up against me with nothing between us. The thought alone sends a rush of heat through my body, and I have to force myself to look away, clenching my fists to keep my control.

What is she doing to me?

Piccola's laughter suddenly fills the small space as Kat holds up the ugliest dress I've ever seen to her body, pretending to walk a runway in it. It's easy to forget, seeing her like this, just how much pressure she's under at only twenty-three. One close friend, a PR team more concerned with appearances than her well-being, and a stalker lurking in the shadows—it's a lot for anyone to handle.

The longer I watch her, the more I wish I could do something to bring out more of this side of her, to make her genuinely happy. She needed this, I realize. Stu knew it. Knew her, but I didn't.

I pull out my phone, briefly checking the latest headlines. We've banned any media for the day—no TVs, no phones, nothing that could upset her—and for good reason. While nothing significant usually happens on the first day of a trial, her father's appearance in court has already sparked a media frenzy around the Bel Air gates. I've got GSS keeping an eye on things, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't itching to get back.

It feels like I've been here for hours. I'm bored out of my mind, half convinced that torture would be more bearable than this. Technically, not all of us needed to be here, but since none of the others know about Evangeline's stalker and there's no way in hell I'm leaving Bailey's side, I'm stuck here instead of prepping for tonight.

At one point, when Jack heads off to do a check of the area, Bailey steps closer to me, still keeping his eyes forward. "He wants you to check the house security cameras."

"Why?"

His eye twitches, clearly not used to being questioned, but he knows he's not getting anything out of me unless I have answers. "He's at the house with Mrs. Ryder, swapping out the real jewelry for the fake while she checks on the house. He needs eyes on downstairs while he does it."

I think fast as I pull out my phone, opening the security app. Of course, the first chance I'm away, he's over there seeing what else he can grab before the gala. And it's my fault he can. I'm the one who took the pictures of the jewelry in her closet and sent them to him. I'm the reason he knew exactly what knockoffs to buy to replace them.

Evangeline's mother is in the kitchen, coffee in hand, gazing out at the patio with a distant look in her eyes. If I can find a way to get her upstairs, Denaro will barely have time to take anything. I risk a glance at Bailey—he's staring straight ahead, oblivious.

Quickly, I send a message to Mrs. Ryder, telling her there's an alert on the app about a window being left open in the upstairs hall. Switching back to the security footage, I watch as she pulls out her phone, reads the message, and starts making her way upstairs. I tell Denaro she's coming.

Seconds later, he appears out of nowhere in the hallway just as she reaches the top of the stairs. I can't hear their conversation—it's too quiet—but then Denaro glances at the window, over to the security camera, right at me.

"What do you guys think?" Evangeline says to us, holding up a dress. "Yay or nay?"

"I think it's too short," Stu says, giving her a pointed look, and she laughs. As much as he irritates me, I'm starting to feel relieved when he's around because at least I know he'll look out for her. He cares about her like a daughter, not just a client, and maybe I was wrong. Maybe, sometimes, that's the best way to protect someone.

At one point, Evangeline asks Stu if he can call her mom to check in on her. He waves me over, telling me to cover his spot while he moves to a quieter part of the store, out of earshot of the retail assistants, to call Mrs. Ryder.

I step into the changing rooms and lean against the wall, pretty sure I know what she's up to. I hear some rustling behind the curtain, and then she suddenly steps out, calling to Kat to check her outfit—all while keeping her eyes locked on me.

The dress is enough to make my breath catch—a deep emerald green that clings to every curve, dipping low at the neckline and hugging her waist before flowing out just enough to tease at her hips.

My eyes roam over her, taking in every detail, imagining what it would be like to push her up against the wall, feel her warm breath on my neck as I lift her thigh around me. That slit would make it all too easy—just a simple tug, and I'd have full access. The thought of grabbing her throat, feeling the quickened pulse beneath my fingers as she looks up at me with those siren-green eyes, nearly drives me to the edge.

She knows exactly what she's doing, and it's working.

"Oh my god, I love that," Kat says, looking her up and down. "It's so cute. What about mine?"

"I like it," Evangeline says, adjusting the strap of Kat's dress, "although one wrong move, and I fear we might have a nip-slip situation on our hands."

"Good." Kat winks. "That's my intention."

The two of them head back into their respective changing rooms, but when Evangeline closes her curtain, she doesn't shut it fully, leaving a gap just big enough for me to see through.

She unzips the dress, letting it slide down her shoulders, over her stomach, and past her thighs until it pools at her feet in a heap. For a moment, she just stands there in her matching underwear, her sun-kissed skin glowing under the fluorescent lights.

Fuck, it's hard to breathe right now.

Suddenly, her eyes lift to meet mine in the mirror's reflection.

She looks right at me, daring me to look away.

I can't.

Not even if I tried.

Stu returns, and the pair of them step out, handing the clothes to the patiently waiting retail assistant before moving on to the accessories. I take my position by the door next to Jack, who's giving me that same look he gave me back in the office—like I'm whipped or something. Despite that smug expression, he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

"Loretto." His voice is low and warning in my ear. I follow his gaze to the window. Outside, a group of girls, maybe fourteen or fifteen, have paused on the sidewalk, their mouths dropping open as they spot Evangeline through the glass. Shit. They're already whispering and snapping pictures on their phones. I'm about to dart out and handle it, but he grabs my arm, holding me back.

"If they post those pictures, it'll lead the paps right here," I warn him.

"I know that," he mutters. Having worked together so many times, we've perfected the art of speaking low enough not to draw attention. "But what are we going to do? Scare them into deleting the pictures? It's a free country. Our best bet is to get out of here."

He's right. If this were any other client, my first move would be to get them out of here pronto. But all I can think about is how happy she looked today, out and about, doing something normal. And that's the problem. When it comes to her, I can't think straight anymore. I can't remember what's right or wrong, or whose side I'm supposed to be on—hers or Denaro's.

I'm losing my damn mind.

"Call for the car," I mutter to Bailey under my breath. His eyes flick to mine, unmoving and unbothered. I don't know if he's a bodyguard Denaro has managed to manipulate like me or if he's just posing as one, and right now, I don't care. I need him to do his damn job.

Finally, he raises a finger to his earpiece and steps outside to order the car, saying something to the group of girls that I can't quite hear. They scuttle away, but it won't be long before that picture hits social media, and the paps catch wind of it. We need to leave, now.

I cross the store in three quick strides until I reach Stu, who immediately reads the expression on my face. I leave it to him to inform Evangeline and Kat that we need to leave, then rejoin Jack at the front of the store, keeping an eye on Bailey as he does a quick area check outside.

The way Evangeline casually moves to the till tells me she hasn't been alerted to the problem yet. She pays for her and Kat's things, then lingers by some nearby jewelry while I spot the first crowd of paps rushing over.

The car pulls up just as the paps close in, tires screeching to a halt at the curb. The four of us move fast, trying to rush the pair out of the store and into the waiting vehicle, but the paps have already swarmed us. Flashes go off in every direction, and I shove some of them back, forming a barrier between Evangeline and the chaos.

"Were you aware your father was paying for hookers while married to your mother?" someone shouts.

"Are you here for Kael's premiere?"

"Is it true the two of you are back together?"

The noise is deafening. Bodies press in from all sides, shoving, elbowing, grabbing. Flashes explode in our faces, half-blinding us. Evangeline stays calm, her face a mask of practiced composure, but I can see the tension in her shoulders as we hustle her into the car.

The driver gets us back to the Fontainebleau in record time. The porters quickly hurry over to open the door, and I move to place my hand on Evangeline's back, but Bailey beats me to it, smirking as he follows the porters through to the lobby.

A sharp pang of jealousy spikes in my chest, but I shove it down.

Fucking prick.

None of us speak as we escort them back up to the suite without any issues. Evangeline heads straight to her bedroom with Kat, closing the door behind them. The four of us split up—Stu goes to make calls and ensure the plan is still in place for the premiere tonight, Bailey steps out onto the balcony for a cigarette, and just as I'm about to head to my room, Jack steps in front of my door and folds his arms, giving me a look.

"What is it?" I ask, sensing he's got something on his mind. But I don't have time for this. Every spare minute since Evangeline's life was threatened has been spent scouring the internet and social media, trying to find any clue that could lead me to her stalker.

"Nothing." He sighs, running a hand over his head, clearly conflicted. I'd chosen him for this job because I knew his disarming nature would be easier on Evangeline, less intimidating. But also because, out of everyone at GSS, he's the one I trust the most and the only one who knows about the stalker. "Okay, look. At the risk of you biting my head off, I have to ask: is there something going on between you two?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" he asks. "Because all jokes aside, that kind of thing can get you into a lot of trouble, Loretto, and things could get complicated fast."

I know what he's getting at. If it comes down to her wishes versus her safety, I have to put her safety first—the way I almost didn't back in the store. It's a mistake I can't afford to make again.

Kat bursts in before I can say a word, making a beeline for us. "We have an emergency," she says, breathless. "Code red. I haven't told Eva yet because I don't want to stress her out, but Jude isn't coming to Miami anymore." She looks between us like the world is officially ending. "Eva doesn't have a date to the premiere."

My shoulders relax slightly as I drop my hand away from my gun. Not my idea of a code red, but I don't hesitate. "Then I'll be her date."