ログインNancy’s POV
“Watch over me,” I repeated slowly. “You mean… following me?” “Protecting you,” my father corrected. “Following me,” I said again. “Watching me. Stalking me.” My father didn’t argue. Didn’t deny it. My stomach turned. “For three weeks?” My voice rose again. “For three weeks this man has been following me and I didn’t know?” “That was the point,” Zade said. I snapped my head toward him. It was the first time he’d spoken directly to me since my father arrived. “You weren’t supposed to know,” he continued calmly. “I was meant to stay invisible unless there was a threat.” “And tonight?” I demanded. “Tonight there was a threat.” “So you killed them.” “Yes.” Just one word. Yes. Like it meant nothing. Like three lives were nothing. I turned back to my father, my chest tight. “I already have bodyguards. Roberto. Marco. Tony. The others. Why do I need another one? Why do I need him?” I pointed at Zade. “Because Roberto and the others failed,” my father said, his voice turning cold. “They let you walk out of that gallery alone. They lost track of you for fifteen minutes.” He stepped closer. “Fifteen minutes, Nancy. That’s all it took for the Russos to make their move.” “I told you I didn’t want Roberto to drive me home!” I shouted. “I wanted to walk to my car by myself! That’s not his fault!” “It is his fault for losing you.” The sharpness in my father’s voice made me take a step back. “So what?” I said. “You’re replacing all of them? With him?” I gestured at Zade, who still hadn’t moved. Still covered in blood. Still empty-faced. “No,” my father said. My heart started pounding. “I’m sending you away.” I froze. “Somewhere safe,” he continued. “Somewhere the Russos can’t find you. And Zade will be the only security you need.” The world tilted. My heart stopped. "What do you mean, sending me away?" "I have a private island. Off the coast of Greece. Completely secure. No one knows about it except my most trusted people." My father's tone was final. "You'll stay there until this situation with the Russos is resolved." "No." The word burst out of me. "No, I'm not going to some island! I have school, I have my thesis, I have—" "You have your life," my father interrupted. "Which you won't have if you stay here." "You can't just ship me off to Greece!" "Yes, Nancy. I can. And I am." "With him?" I pointed at Zade again. "With a man who just traumatized me? Who I don't know, don't trust—" "You don't have to trust him," my father said. "You just have to let him do his job." "Which is what? Kidnapping me? Scaring me half to death?" "Keeping you alive," my father said. Each word was like a hammer. "That's his job. That's the only thing that matters right now." I stared at him, feeling everything I'd feared my whole life coming true. My father wasn't just controlling my life anymore. He was taking it away completely. "When?" I asked, my voice small now. Defeated. "Tonight. You'll go to the estate, pack what you need, and leave in the morning." "I don't get any say in this?" "No." Just like that. No apologies, no explanation, no room for argument. I looked at Zade, really looked at him. At the blood on his face and clothes. At those empty silver eyes. At the complete lack of emotion. This was the man I'd be trapped with. On an island. In the middle of nowhere. For who knows how long. "What if I refuse?" I asked my father, even though I already knew the answer. "Then Zade will carry you to the car, to the plane, and to the island. Just like he carried you tonight." My father's voice softened slightly. "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be, fiore mio. I'm trying to keep you safe." "By making me a prisoner." "By keeping you alive." I wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to run. But I just stood there, trembling, looking at my father's implacable face and Zade's empty eyes. "Fine," I said finally. "But I want it on record that this is kidnapping. Legal kidnapping maybe, but still kidnapping." "Noted," my father said dryly. He gestured to one of the black SUVs parked nearby, its engine still running. “Zade, take her to the estate. I’ll meet you there in an hour. We need to discuss security protocols and the timeline.” His voice was calm. Too calm. Like this was just another meeting. Another problem to solve. “Yes, sir.” Zade’s eyes shifted to me. “Miss Valentino. Please.” He stepped aside and motioned toward the SUV. I didn’t move. The night air felt heavy on my skin. My chest was tight, my hands curled into fists at my sides. Everything inside me screamed no. I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want to be moved. I didn’t want him near me. “Nancy,” my father said. There it was. That warning tone. The one that meant I was already on thin ice. I still didn’t move. I knew I was being childish. Bratty, even. But I didn’t care. Zade shifted, clearly done waiting. He took a step toward me. My heart jumped. I remembered the last time he got that close. How fast it happened. How his hands had grabbed me and lifted me like I weighed nothing. How the ground disappeared beneath my feet as he threw me over his shoulder like I was luggage. Like I didn’t matter. “I’m going,” I blurted out quickly. The words rushed out of me before he could touch me. I turned and walked toward the SUV, forcing my legs to move even though they felt weak. Each step was unsteady. My knees shook, and I hated that he could probably see it. Hated that he could see how scared I was. By the time I reached the car, Zade was already there. Of course he was. He opened the door for me, one large hand gripping the handle. I stopped just long enough to look up at him. His face was splattered with blood. Dark stains across his cheek and jaw, some already drying. It didn’t look like his blood. That made it worse. His eyes were cold. Empty. Like nothing that had happened tonight had touched him at all. Something ugly twisted in my chest. “I hate you,” I said quietly. The words barely sounded like my own. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. His expression didn’t change. “I don’t care,” he replied, his voice flat. Emotionless.NANCY'S POVHe looked at my face, then down at where I was still spread and glistening on the bed, then back up. He was breathing harder than he wanted me to see. The muscle in his jaw jumped.“Nancy.” Quiet. Careful. “If you want something else, you have to say it. I told you I wouldn’t make you say it twice. I also told you I wouldn’t take more than you give.”I pressed my thighs together. It did not help. I could still feel the shape of his fingers. I could still see the hard line of him. My body was screaming the answer. My mouth would not do its job.“I know,” I whispered.“Then tell me what you need.”I opened my mouth.Nothing came out.He waited. He gave me the silence. He did not fill it for me. That almost made it worse.When I still said nothing, he nodded once, like he had expected that, and it still cost him. I saw the cost in his eyes.“All right,” he said. “Then I stop here. You came. You’re shaking. That’s enough for now.”It was not enough.I just did not know how to
NANCY'S POVHe sucked my clit again, firmer, and one of his hands slid up to hold my hip down when I tried to rock against his face. The other stayed on my thigh, keeping me open. I could feel how wet I was on his mouth, on his chin. The wet sounds filled the quiet room. It was filthy. It was exactly what I had been thinking about in the shower.“You’re dripping,” he said, voice rough. “All this for a few push-ups and a conversation. You needed this bad, baby.”“I did.” My voice broke. “I do.”He slid one finger through my wetness, slow, not pushing in yet. Just teasing. Watching my face over the curve of my stomach.“Can I use my fingers too,” he asked, “or only my mouth?”The question made me clench.“Fingers,” I whispered. “Please.”“That’s my girl.”He pushed one finger into me first.Easy. I was that wet. The stretch was nothing compared to what I remembered, and still my breath caught. I could feel every slow inch of it. Then a second finger. He curled them the way he remembered
NANCY'S POVHe took my hand and led me to the bedroom.His palm was warm. Steady. Mine was not. I followed him down the short hall like I had not already been in that room a hundred times. Like I had not slept in that bed with him sitting in the chair after a nightmare. Like this was the first time he had ever taken me anywhere on purpose.I did not know why I was nervous.This was not the first time he would touch me. I knew his mouth. I knew his hands. I knew the sound he made when he was between my legs. There was no reason to feel like a blushing virgin walking toward something she did not understand.And still my stomach fluttered.Still my mouth felt dry.He let go of my hand once we were inside. I sat on the edge of the bed and started wringing my fingers in my lap. The sweater suddenly felt too thin. I was not wearing anything under the soft pants. I had known that when I dressed. I had known it at the table. Now it felt like a decision I could not take back.Zade stood in fro
NANCY'S POVI stared at him.The sentence was simple. The meaning behind it was not. He said it the same way he said he would drive me to work, or hold my hair, or stay until I fell asleep. Like care. Like something he had already decided he was allowed to offer.“Helped me,” I repeated.“Yes.” His eyes stayed on mine. “If that’s what your body needs, I can take care of it. I can make you feel better. Whenever you need it. You don’t have to go hide in the shower and pretend you’re fine.”Heat flooded through me all over again. I thought of the tile under my palm. My own fingers. The way I had stopped myself because he was ten feet away scrambling eggs.“You don’t know what you’re offering,” I said.“I do.” His thumb brushed the edge of my mouth, barely there. “I know exactly what your body does when it wants. I know how fast you get wet. I know the sound you make when you’re close. I also know you don’t want me to take more than you give. So I won’t. But I can put my hands on you. My
NANCY'S POVWhen I stepped under the spray, the water hit my shoulders and made me gasp. It ran down my chest, over my stomach, between my thighs. It helped a little. Not enough. The cold made my nipples ache. It did nothing for the heat lower down. I braced one hand on the tile and let my head drop forward. Water streamed off my hair into my eyes. Behind my closed lids he was still on the floor in the next room, shirtless, working, unaware that I was standing here dripping and restless because of him.My other hand slid down over the curve of my stomach.I was already wet. I could feel it even under the water, slicker than the shower, hotter. The thought was already there—his mouth between my legs, his hands spreading my thighs against this same tile, the way he used to look up at me when he told me to come on his tongue. The way he used to hold me open and lick until I shook. The way he used to push two fingers into me after and tell me I was ready, tell me to take him.My fingers f
NANCY'S POVI was three months pregnant now.The first trimester was almost behind me. Some days I still woke up queasy. Some days I felt almost normal, except for the way my clothes sat differently and the way my hand kept finding the small, firm curve of my stomach without me meaning to. The baby was no longer just two lines on a test. They were a fact I carried everywhere. A quiet weight. A secret my father still did not know.Zade had been in the apartment the whole time.He slept on the couch most nights, unless a nightmare pulled me out of sleep and I asked him to stay. He drove me to the office on the days I went in. He waited outside when I finished, or he came in with lunch in a paper bag and sat across from me in the common room while I ate. Sometimes he took me to a small restaurant nearby and watched me until I finished most of the plate. My colleagues thought he was my boyfriend. I heard it in the way they looked at him, in the little comments they made after he left.I d







