Chapter 2: Crossing The Line

I woke up to someone staring at me.

Those dark eyes locked on my face like he was trying to figure something out. Cole McKnight. Right. The bodyguard. Last night came back in pieces. The blood. Throwing up while he stood there. Him carrying me upstairs like I weighed nothing.

"What time is it?" My voice came out rough.

"Seven."

"Why are you in my room?"

"Checking on you."

He was sitting in the chair by my window, still fully dressed, like he hadn't slept at all. I sat up. Bad move. The room spun. I made it to the bathroom just in time. When I came out, there was water and aspirin on my nightstand.

Cole was still there, arms crossed.

"I need to shower," I said.

"Fine. I'll wait downstairs."

I stood there for a second, then headed to the bathroom. Under the water, I thought about him watching me sleep. About the way he'd carried me. About how he'd stayed.

When I came downstairs, Cole was in my kitchen making coffee like he lived there.

"Make yourself at home," I said.

"Your father hired me twenty-four seven. That means I live where you live now."

"Excuse me?"

He poured two cups and slid one to me. "I'm moving in. Today. Your father's orders."

"Absolutely not. Not your decision. This is my house."

"That someone threatened three weeks ago. Listed your address. Described your bedroom window. Knew which room you sleep in."

My stomach dropped.

"When did my father tell you that?"

"Last night. While you were passed out."

I grabbed my phone and called Dad. Voicemail. Of course.

"He's in meetings," Cole said, "but he'll tell you the same thing I'm telling you. Listen to McKnight because he's the best at what he does."

"Are you the best?"

Something dark crossed his face. "I used to be."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm good at keeping people alive now."

The kitchen felt too small, too warm. I could smell his coffee. See a scar on his neck. There was something about him that made it hard to think straight.

"Fine," I said. "You can stay. But there are rules."

"I'm listening."

"You don't go in my bedroom without knocking. You don't follow me into the bathroom. You give me space when I ask for it."

"Anything else?"

"And you don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're doing right now."

His eyes hadn't left my face. "How am I looking at you?"

"Like you're trying to figure out if I'm worth saving."

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "I already know you are."

The words hit different. I turned away and grabbed my coffee just to have something to do.

My phone buzzed. I*******m notification. Then another. Then ten more.

Someone had posted a video from last night. Me and Cole outside the club, standing too close. The comments were going crazy. Who's the hottie? Ashton has a new boyfriend??? That sexual tension tho.

"What?" Cole moved around the counter and looked at my phone over my shoulder.

"Nothing. Just people being people."

He took my phone and scrolled through the comments. His face moved, the muscle in his neck became hard. "This is going to be a problem."

"Why?"

"Because now everyone knows you have a bodyguard. Which means whoever's threatening you knows I'm here. We need to be more careful."

"Or maybe you could just leave."

"You know that's not how this works."

"No, I don't know how any of this works." I grabbed my coffee and drank it even though it was too hot. "I didn't ask for death threats. Didn't ask for you. Didn't ask to have my entire life turned upside down."

Cole stepped closer, right into my space. "You're scared. That's normal. But you need to understand something. I'm not leaving. Not until this threat is gone. So you can fight me or work with me. But either way, I'm staying."

We were so close I could see flecks of gold in his dark eyes. I should have felt trapped. I didn't.

"You don't know me," I whispered.

"Not yet. But I will."

"Why do you care?"

"Because keeping you alive is my job."

"And I don't fail at my job."

The words hung between us. His breath on my face and mine on his, which probably smelled like my toothpaste and the coffee I just had. The kitchen silent except for the refrigerator hum. Then his phone rang.

He stepped back and answered it. "Yeah." His eyes never left mine. "Understood. I'll tell him."

He hung up. That was Marcus. There's been another threat. Email. Sent twenty minutes ago."

"What did it say?"

Cole's face went hard. "It said they know I'm here now. And that I won't be able to stop what's coming."

I felt something shift. This wasn't just about threats anymore. This was about Cole. About them knowing he was protecting me.

"We need to talk about your father," Cole said.

"What about him?"

"Marcus dug into the threats. Into who's sending them. Ashton, this goes deeper than random stalking."

I waited. "Your father's involved in something. Campaign finance fraud. Embezzlement. Money laundering. Names that go high up. Really high up."

The words didn't make sense. My father. Senator Irwin. The golden boy of politics. I dropped out of school because I couldn't stand being part of that machine anymore. And now this.

"How high up?" I whispered.

"Higher than we thought. Marcus is trying to get proof but there are people protecting your father. Powerful people. And when your father wouldn't play ball with them anymore, when he threatened to come clean, they decided to use you. To keep him in line. If anything happens to you, he stops talking. He plays their game. He stays silent."

I walked to the window. Looked out at the empty street.

"This is my fault," I said.

"What?"

"You came here to protect me and now you're in the middle of this."

"This isn't your fault. But we need to figure out what your father knows. And we need to do it before they find us again."

I turned around. Cole was standing there, waiting. Guarding me. And somehow, in the last twelve hours, he'd become the only person I trusted.

"If my father finds out about this," I said, "about us, he'll destroy you."

"I know."

"And you're staying anyway."

"Yeah. I'm staying anyway."

I crossed the kitchen and kissed him. Fast. Desperate. Like I'd been thinking about it since the moment I saw him. His hand went to my face, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened. His mouth was warm, tasting like coffee. He groaned and kissed me harder, backing me against the counter.

When we broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine.

"This is a bad idea," he said.

"The worst."

"Your father will kill me."

"Probably."

He pulled back, looked at me. "You sure?"

"No. But I don't care."

He kissed me again.

Then his phone started ringing.

He ignored it.

It rang again.

And again.