Chapter 2 - THE SECURITY DETAIL
“What had Ethan discovered that made him suddenly afraid something might happen to me?”
I stood in the hallway outside the west wing, staring at the closed study door.
For three months, Ethan Carter had treated me like a contractual obligation.
Now he had assigned guards to follow me.
Not one.
Four.
I turned as Brian approached.
“Why now?”
Brian stopped several feet away.
“I already told you. The boss wants additional security.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is the only one I can give you.”
“Then give me the real one.”
His expression remained unreadable.
“Mrs. Carter, go back to the east wing.”
I almost laughed.
“You sound frightened.”
That finally made him look at me.
Only for a second.
Then his face closed again.
“I'm cautious.”
“About what?”
Brian glanced toward Ethan's study.
“About people who know too much.”
My stomach tightened.
“Does that include me?”
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I walked away.
But I didn't go to my room.
I went to the solarium.
The enormous windows overlooked the rear gardens, and from there I could see two unfamiliar men standing near the iron gate.
They weren't Carter security.
I knew most of Ethan's men by sight.
These two were different.
Older.
Quiet.
Watching the house rather than protecting it.
I reached for my phone.
Before I could take a photograph, someone spoke behind me.
“Don't.”
I turned.
Ethan stood in the doorway.
He wasn't wearing his usual suit.
Just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms.
For one strange second, I forgot what I had heard three months earlier.
Then I remembered.
I don't want her. I never did.
“What?”
“Don't photograph them.”
“Why?”
“Because if they see you doing it, they'll know you've noticed.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Who are they?”
Ethan walked toward the window.
“People I don't trust.”
“Are they watching me?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The honesty startled me.
“Why?”
“Because of your father.”
I stared at him.
“My father?”
Ethan turned.
“Go upstairs, Jane.”
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
I had rarely refused him.
“I'm tired of being told what I can and cannot know.”
“This isn't a game.”
“I know.”
“You don't.”
“I know exactly what kind of world I married into.”
His eyes hardened.
“You married into my world because your father needed my protection.”
The words were cold.
Familiar.
Almost exactly like the man behind the study door three months earlier.
I swallowed.
“And now you're protecting me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Silence.
I waited.
He looked away.
“Because if something happens to you, everyone assumes I allowed it.”
The answer hurt.
Of course.
Not because he cared.
Because my death would damage his reputation.
I nodded.
“Understood.”
I walked toward the door.
“Jane.”
I stopped.
His voice had changed.
Softer.
“Don't walk outside alone.”
I looked back.
“I thought you didn't care what I did.”
His face tightened.
“I care more than you think.”
Then he left.
I stood there for several seconds.
That sentence followed me upstairs.
Not because it was romantic.
Because it didn't sound like Ethan.
That evening, I attended the charity gala without him.
He arrived twenty minutes later.
The moment he entered the ballroom, conversations lowered.
People moved aside.
Ethan's reputation preceded him.
But tonight, something was different.
He didn't look at the politicians.
He didn't look at the businessmen.
He looked for me.
When he found me, his gaze stayed there.
Then he crossed the room.
“Why aren't you wearing the bracelet?”
I glanced down.
“What bracelet?”
“The diamond one your mother gave you.”
I frowned.
“It broke last week.”
His expression changed.
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
“Who repaired it?”
“No one. It's in my bedroom.”
He reached into his pocket.
My mother's bracelet appeared in his hand.
I stared.
“Where did you get that?”
His voice was low.
“It wasn't in your bedroom.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What?”
“It was found in your father's warehouse.”
I stared at him.
“My father doesn't have my bracelet.”
“He did.”
“How?”
“I don't know yet.”
Ethan closed his fingers around it.
“That's why you're under protection.”
My stomach dropped.
“What does a bracelet have to do with me?”
He looked toward the ballroom entrance.
A man had just walked in.
Gray suit.
Silver hair.
A familiar face.
My father's attorney.
Except he had died two years earlier.
I froze.
“That isn't possible.”
Ethan's hand tightened around my wrist.
“Don't look at him.”
I whispered:
“Who is that?”
Ethan didn't answer.
The man smiled.
Then he raised his hand.
On his wrist was a distinctive silver watch.
And I suddenly remembered something my father had told me when I was sixteen.
If you ever see that watch again, don't trust anyone wearing it.
Ethan pulled me behind him.
“Stay here.”
The man started walking toward us.
Then he stopped.
His eyes moved to Ethan.
And he said:
“Your wife knows more than you think.”
Ethan's expression became deadly calm.
“Get out.”
The man smiled.
“You still don't understand, Ethan.”
He glanced at me.
“She isn't the target.”
Then he walked away.
May you like
I turned toward Ethan.
“Then who is?”
