In Love with My Defiant Bodyguard

The Gala

Three days later, Stacy stood in front of her full-length mirror, barely recognizing herself.

The dress was stunning-a black gown that hugged her curves before flowing to the floor. It had a high slit up one thigh and an elegant off-shoulder design that made her feel like a movie star. Her dark hair was swept up in an intricate up do, with a few loose tendrils framing her face. Gold earrings and expensive necklace that had belonged to her mother sparkled at her ears and neck

She looked like her mother used to look before these events. The thought made her chest ache.

There was a knock at her door.

"Come in," Stacy called.

Isaiah stepped inside and froze.

For the first time in nearly two months, Stacy saw Isaiah's carefully controlled expression completely shatter. His blue eyes widened, traveling from her face down to her dress and back up again. His lips parted slightly, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed.

"You..." He cleared his throat. "You look..."

"Acceptable?" Stacy asked, unable to hide her smile at his reaction.

"Beautiful," Isaiah said quietly. Then, as if realizing what he'd said, he straightened. "The car is ready. We should go."

But neither of them moved. They stood there, staring at each other across her bedroom, the air suddenly charged with something Stacy didn't want to name.

Isaiah looked different too. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and muscular frame. His hair was styled, and he'd shaved, revealing the sharp angles of his jaw. He looked dangerous and elegant all at once.

"You clean up pretty well yourself," Stacy said softly.

Isaiah's jaw tightened. "We should go," he repeated.

The Grand Hotel ballroom was already packed when they arrived. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting warm light over the hundreds of guests in tuxedos and evening gowns. A string quartet played in the corner, and waiters circulated with champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

Stacy felt her breath catch. This was her mother's event, her mother's vision. Being here without her felt wrong and right all at once.

Isaiah's hand pressed lightly against the small of her back, guiding her inside. He stayed close, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

"Breathe," he murmured in her ear. "You've got this."

Stacy nodded, forcing a smile as the first wave of guests approached. There were business associates of her father's, old friends of her mother's, socialites and politicians and celebrities. Everyone wanted to express their condolences, to tell Stacy how much they missed Catherine.

Isaiah never left her side. He was the perfect bodyguard-present but not intrusive, alert but not obvious. When conversations ran too long, he'd politely interrupt with a reminder about her schedule. When the crowd pressed too close, he'd create space with just his presence.

"Stacy! Oh my god, you look amazing!"

Stacy turned to see her friend Melissa rushing over, followed by their mutual friends Rachel and Sophie.

"Look at you!" Rachel squealed. "And is that the hot bodyguard? Even better in a tux."

Isaiah's expression didn't change, but Stacy saw the slight tightening around his eyes.

"Ladies," he acknowledged with a nod.

"So serious," Sophie giggled, clearly already a few drinks in. "Does he ever relax?"

"Not really," Stacy said, trying to change the subject. "Have you tried the food? It looks incredible."

As her friends chattered, Stacy noticed Isaiah had gone very still beside her. His gaze was fixed on something across the room, his jaw clenched.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing," Isaiah said, but his hand moved to rest at her back again, protective. "Stay close."

Stacy followed his gaze and saw a man in his fifties watching them from near the bar. He was handsome in a polished way, with silver hair and an expensive suit. When he noticed Stacy looking, he smiled and raised his glass to her.

"Who is that?" Stacy whispered.

"Robert Keane. He's a business associate of your father's." Isaiah's voice was tight. "I don't like the way he's looking at you."

"Isaiah, you don't like the way anyone looks at me."

"That's because everyone looks at you like-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Just stay close."

Before Stacy could respond, her father appeared at her elbow. "Stacy, there are some donors I'd like you to meet."

The next hour passed in a blur of handshakes and small talk. Stacy smiled until her face hurt, made polite conversation, and tried to channel her mother's grace and warmth. Isaiah remained her shadow, professional and vigilant.

But Stacy kept noticing things that seemed off. The way Robert Keane kept watching her. How Marcus, their head of security, seemed nervous, checking his phone constantly. The way a waitress bumped into Isaiah-hard enough to make him turn and check his jacket, as if looking for something.

"I need some air," Stacy told Isaiah after the third such incident. "Can we step outside for a moment?"

Isaiah nodded, his hand at her back again as he guided her toward the balcony. The cool night air was a relief after the stuffy ballroom.

"Are you okay?" Isaiah asked once they were alone.

"I don't know. Something feels wrong tonight."

"I feel it too." Isaiah moved to stand beside her at the railing, his eyes still scanning their surroundings. "There are too many variables. Too many people I don't know, can't control."

"You can't control everything," Stacy said gently.

"When it comes to your safety, I can try." He turned to look at her, and in the moonlight, his blue eyes were almost ethereal. "Stacy, if anything happens tonight-"

"Nothing's going to happen. You're here."

"But if it does," Isaiah continued seriously, "I need you to promise me you'll run. Don't try to be brave, don't try to help. Just run and find the nearest exit."

"Isaiah-"

"Promise me."

Stacy saw the fear in his eyes, carefully hidden but there nonetheless. "I promise."

They stood there in silence for a moment, the sounds of the party muffled behind them. Stacy was acutely aware of how close Isaiah was, how the moonlight caught the angles of his face, how badly she wanted to close the distance between them.

"We should go back inside," Isaiah said, but he didn't move.

"Isaiah..." Stacy turned to face him fully. "Thank you. For everything. For the training, the runs, for putting up with me. I know I wasn't easy at first."

"You're still not easy," Isaiah said, but there was warmth in his voice. "But you're worth the difficulty."

Before Stacy could respond, the balcony door burst open. Marcus stood there, his face pale.

"Isaiah, we have a problem. Someone just triggered the fire alarm on the third floor. It could be a diversion."

Isaiah's entire demeanor changed instantly, from the almost-soft man she'd been talking to into the lethal bodyguard. He grabbed Stacy's hand.

"We're leaving. Now."

"But my father-"

"Is surrounded by his own security. You're my priority." Isaiah was already moving, pulling her toward a side exit. "Marcus, get the car to the west entrance. Now."

They rushed through the hallways, Isaiah's grip on her hand firm but not painful. Behind them, Stacy could hear shouting, the sound of running feet.

"Isaiah, what's happening?"

"I don't know yet. But I'm not waiting to find out."

They burst through a service entrance into a dimly lit parking garage. Isaiah pulled Stacy behind a concrete pillar, his body shielding hers as his eyes scanned the area.

"Clear," he muttered. "The car should be here in thirty seconds."

That's when Stacy saw them.

Three men in black, moving toward them from different directions. They weren't running, weren't rushing. They moved with purpose, with training.

Isaiah saw them too. He pushed Stacy further behind him.

"Stay behind me," he ordered. "No matter what happens."

"Isaiah-"

The first man lunged. Isaiah moved so fast Stacy barely saw it, deflecting the attack and sending the man sprawling. But the other two were already closing in.

Stacy watched in horror and awe as Isaiah fought. Every move from their training sessions was real now, deadly and precise. He was outnumbered but not outmatched, his training evident in every strike and block.

But then one of the men pulled a gun.

"Isaiah!" Stacy screamed.

Isaiah spun, grabbed her around the waist, and they dove behind a car just as shots rang out. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space.

"Run!" Isaiah shouted. "Run now!"

But Stacy saw what he didn't-a fourth man, coming from the direction Isaiah was trying to send her. Without thinking, she grabbed a high heel and threw it with all her strength.

It hit the man in the face. He stumbled, cursed.

Isaiah used the distraction to tackle him, disarming him in one smooth motion. More gunshots. The screech of tires.

And then Marcus was there with the car, laying down cover fire. Isaiah grabbed Stacy and literally threw her into the back seat before diving in after her.

"Drive!" he shouted.

The car peeled out of the garage as bullets pinged off the reinforced metal. Stacy was pressed against Isaiah's chest, his arms wrapped around her, his heart hammering against her back.

They didn't speak until they were blocks away, the hotel disappearing behind them.

"Are you hurt?" Isaiah demanded, his hands running over her arms, her shoulders, checking for injuries.

"I'm fine. Are you-"

"I'm fine." His blue eyes were wild, furious. "What the hell were you thinking, throwing your shoe? You were supposed to run!"

"There was a man behind us!"

"I would have handled it!"

"He had a gun, Isaiah!"

"So did three other men, and you could have been killed!" Isaiah's voice cracked slightly. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if they'd gotten to you?"

Stacy stared at him, at the fear and fury in his eyes, and suddenly understood. This wasn't just about the job for him anymore. Maybe it never had been.

"Isaiah," she said softly, placing her hand on his cheek.

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch for just a moment before pulling away. "We need to get you somewhere safe. Marcus, take us to the safe house."

"Already on it," Marcus said from the front seat. But Stacy noticed his hands were shaking on the steering wheel.

As the adrenaline started to fade, reality set in. Someone had just tried to kill her. At her mother's gala. With hundreds of witnesses.

This wasn't a vague threat anymore. This was real.

And the worst part? Stacy had seen something in those men's eyes, something that made her blood run cold. They'd known exactly where she'd be, exactly when she'd step onto that balcony.

Someone had told them.

Someone close.

meanwhile Isaiah looked at Marcus's reflection in the rearview mirror, saw the way he wouldn't meet his eyes.

The spy wasn't some distant enemy.

The spy was already inside.