Chapter 7 The warning

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “In my line of work, you develop contacts. Resources. The police are good, but they have procedures. The team I called specializes in this exact kind of threat. They were closer, and faster.”

It was a reasonable answer. But it didn’t feel like the whole truth. The speed, the efficiency, the way the team moved with such practiced precision it spoke of immense resources and power. Far beyond what a simple head of security should command.

“You knew it was a bomb just by looking at it,” she pressed, the fear giving way to a burning curiosity. “How?”

“I’ve seen similar things before,” he said, his voice flat. He turned away from the window and walked toward the kitchen. “You need water. And we need to talk about what happens next.”

He was changing the subject. Closing down. The wall was going back up. She followed him, frustration bubbling inside her.

“What happens next is that I call my uncle and tell him what just happened !” she said, her voice rising. “This is insane! A bomb, Rhys! Someone tried to kill me!”

He filled a glass with water and handed it to her. His hand was steady. “And what do you think will happen if you do that?”

“I’ll be safe! He’ll beef up security!”

“will he?” Rhys’s voice was dangerously quiet. “I think someone is trying to get rid of you because of the company. From my years of experience as a guard,You’re a loose end, Chloe. You know too much. The moment you try to give up your shares at the company, you become a liability, not an heiress.”

The cold logic of his words froze her in place. He was right. She had been thinking like a businesswoman, but this was a fight for survival.

“So what do we do?” she asked, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Now,” he said, his eyes flash with a hard light, “we show whoever sends the message that his warning failed. We show him we’re not scared. We move the wedding up.”

“What? How far?”

“Next week.”

The word hung in the air. “Next week? That’s impossible! The planning, the guests…”

“We hire an event planner.” He replied.

His idea was brilliant. And terrifying. It was a direct challenge.

“My uncle Julian’ll be furious, he wants a glamorous wedding,” she whispered.

“Good,” Rhys said, a show of something dark and predatory in his eyes. “Let him be furious. We are getting married.”

The phone rang, shattering the tension. The caller ID flashed: JULIAN.

Chloe’s blood ran cold. She looked at Rhys. He gave a single, sharp nod. “Answer it. Put it on speaker. Be calm.”

She took a deep breath and picked up the phone. “Uncle Julian?” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

“Chloe! My God, I just heard!” Julian’s voice shows feigned concern. “Are you all right? The police called me! A bomb? This is insanity!”

“I’m fine, Uncle Julian. Just shaken up.”

“This is what happens when you rush into things with people you don’t truly know!” he said, his tone shifting to a subtle accusation. “This… bodyguard. This sudden engagement. It brings a dangerous element into your life, Chloe. You need to reconsider this entire situation. For your own safety.”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed.

“Actually, Uncle Julian,” Chloe said, “it’s made us realize how short life is. We don’t want to wait. We’re getting married next week.”

The silence on the other end of the line was profound. When Julian spoke again, all pretense of warmth was gone. His voice was like ice. “Next week? Don’t be a fool, Chloe. This is not what your father would have wanted.”

“I think Dad would have wanted me to be happy,” she countered, her voice gaining strength. “And to be safe. Rhys makes me feel both.”

“Does he?” Julian’s voice dripped with venom. “Or is he just using you ? Think carefully, niece. You’re playing with fire.”

Before she could respond, he simply ended the call and placed the phone back on the counter.

The following days were a whirlwind of  activities. The romantic pretense was gone, replaced by a focused, military like operation. Rhys made calls, arranged things with an efficiency that was breathtaking. A courthouse was secured. A judge was arranged. A dress was procured simple, elegant, and delivered by a severe looking woman who scanned the penthouse for listening devices before she even said hello.

Chloe felt like a passenger in her own life. She followed Rhys’s instructions, signed where he told her to sign. The fear was a constant companion, but it was now mixed with a strange sense of awe. Who was this man?

The night before the wedding, she couldn’t sleep. She paced her bedroom, her mind racing. She stopped in front of the full-length mirror, looking at her reflection. She looked pale, her eyes shadowed with fear and exhaustion.

There was a soft knock. “Chloe? Are you awake?”

It was Rhys. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Yes.”

He opened the door. He was dressed in blue trousers and a simple t-shirt. He looked as tired as she felt.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m terrified,” she admitted, hugging herself.

He nodded. “That’s smart. Fear keeps you alive.” He took a step into the room. “But you don’t have to be alone in it.”

He walked over to her, stopping just in front of her. He didn’t touch her, but his presence filled the space.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice low, “when we stand in front of the judge, I need you to know something. The vows I say… I will mean them.”

Chloe’s breath caught. She searched his face, looking for any sign of the act, the performance. But all she saw was a stark, terrifying sincerity.

“Get some sleep,” he said, his voice husky. “Tomorrow, we change the game.”

He left her standing there, her fingers pressed to her lips, yearning for a kiss from his succulent lips. The fear was still there, but it was now tangled up with a wild, impossible hope. She was marrying a mystery. A man who commanded private armies and disarmed bombs with a look.

And for the first time since her father died, she didn’t feel entirely alone.