Chapter 3

Daisy's POV**

I couldn't write.

Three hours of staring at a blank screen, and all I had was one pathetic sentence that made no sense. My editor was going to kill me. The manuscript was due in three days, and I had nothing.

Because I couldn't stop thinking about him.

The neighbor. The asshole with the coffee and the smirk who'd watched me fall apart.

I grabbed my phone, checking for the hundredth time that I'd blocked both his numbers. I had. But part of me—the stupid, desperate part—kept waiting for another text.

My phone rang. Dad.

I answered reluctantly. "Hi, Dad."

"Daisy." His voice was clipped, military-sharp. "I need to discuss your safety."

My stomach dropped. "What happened?"

"Your sister was attacked last week. Two men in masks outside her apartment in D.C. They knew who she was. They targeted her because of me."

"Is Emily okay?"

"Physically, yes. But this means you're all vulnerable. I'm hiring personal security for you."

"What? No. Dad, nobody even knows I'm your daughter—"

"It's not negotiable. I've already hired someone. Former special ops, runs his own firm. He's one of the best. His name is Killian Darth."

Killian. The name sent an unexpected jolt through me.

"He'll contact you today to set up a meeting. Be careful, Daisy. Don't open your door for strangers, and if anything feels off, call me immediately."

"I will."

"I love you. Even if I don't say it often enough."

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. "I love you too, Dad."

After hanging up, I sat there processing. Emily attacked. Me getting a bodyguard. My quiet life is about to interrupted.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered what this Killian Darth looked like.

Stop it. Your sister was attacked and you're thinking about hot men. What's wrong with you?

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

My heart raced before I even opened it.

**Unknown: Miss me already?**

Him.

I should've ignored it. Should've blocked it immediately.

**Me: How many numbers do you have?**

**Unknown: Enough. Did you think about me while you were writing?**

**Me: I haven't been writing. I've been blocking you.**

**Unknown: Liar. You've been thinking about this morning. About what I saw. About what I could've done if I'd been there with you.**

My breath caught.

**Me: You need to stop.**

**Unknown: Do I? Or do you need me to keep going?**

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling.

**Me: I don't even know what you look like up close.**

**Unknown: You will soon enough.**

**Me: What does that mean?**

**Unknown: You'll see. Sweet dreams, Daisy. Try not to touch yourself without me watching. Where's the fun in that?**

I blocked the number immediately, face burning.

Then I walked to my window and yanked the blinds open, glaring at his dark apartment.

I grabbed paper and a marker, writing in bold letters: FUCK OFF.

I held it up to the window.

A light flickered across the street. His silhouette appeared.

Then darkness again.

My phone buzzed. New number.

**Unknown: Cute. But we both know you don't mean that.**

I threw my phone on the couch and slammed the blinds shut.

He was right. I hated that he was right.

I wanted him to stop. But a dark, desperate part of me wanted him to keep going. Wanted to know what would happen if he didn't.

I grabbed my laptop and wrote furiously, channeling every ounce of frustration into the pages. My main character wasn't desperate anymore. She was powerful. In control. She knew exactly what she wanted.

And what she wanted was the man who'd been watching her.

Two hours later, I had fifteen new pages. The best writing I'd done in months.

My phone rang.

I answered without checking. "Hello?"

"Daisy Macklin?" A deep, unfamiliar voice. Professional. Controlled.

"Yes. Who's this?"

"Killian Darth. Your father hired me as your personal security. I'd like to meet tomorrow at two PM to discuss the arrangement."

My blood went cold.

Killian. The bodyguard.

"My apartment works," I managed.

"Perfect. See you then."

He hung up.

I stared at my phone, mind spinning. Killian Darth. Former special cops. Probably some grizzled military guy in his forties with a buzz cut and a permanent scowl.

At least he wouldn't be a distraction. At least I could focus on work and ignore the asshole neighbor.

That night, I barely slept. Between thoughts of Emily's attack and the neighbor's texts, my mind wouldn't shut off.

The next morning, I changed outfits three times before settling on jeans and a sweater. Professional. Like I had my life together.

At exactly 2PM, my doorbell rang.

I took a deep breath and opened the door.

My entire world stopped.

Standing in my doorway was him.

The neighbor. The man from the window. The man who'd watched me come apart yesterday morning.

Dark curls. Tattoos visible on his forearms. That same knowing smirk.

He was holding a coffee cup.

"Hello, Daisy." His voice was the same one from this morning's phone call. Deep. Controlled. "I'm Killian Darth. Your new bodyguard."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't process what was happening.

He extended his hand. "Can I come in? We have a lot to discuss."

My mouth opened but no words came out.

His smirk widened. "Or would you prefer I wait outside while you process this? Take your time. I'm very patient."

This couldn't be happening. The universe couldn't be this cruel.

My sexy neighbor—the one who'd been texting me, taunting me, watching me—was the man my father hired to protect me.

The man who'd have access to my apartment. My schedule. My entire life.

"You," I finally managed. "You're Killian Darth?"

"Surprised?"

"You knew. When you texted me, you already knew you were going to be my bodyguard."

His expression didn't change. "I found out yesterday afternoon. After our little texting conversation."

"Bullshit."

"It's the truth. Your father contacted my company yesterday morning. I accepted the job yesterday afternoon. Then I texted you that evening." He tilted his head. "Though I'll admit, finding out my new client was the beautiful woman across the street was a pleasant surprise."

"This isn't happening."

"It is. And we can either stand here in your doorway discussing it, or you can let me inside so we can handle this like adults." He paused. "Unless you'd prefer I tell your father you're being difficult? I'm sure he'd love to hear about your concerns."

The threat was clear. If I refused to work with him, he'd tell my father. And my father would just send someone else—someone who'd be even more intrusive.

At least with Killian, I knew what I was dealing with.

Sort of.

I stepped aside. "Come in."

He walked past me, bringing the scent of coffee and something darker. Something that made my stomach flip.

I closed the door and turned to face him.

He was looking around my apartment—taking in the bookshelves, the scattered papers, the coffee mugs on every surface.

"Nice place," he said. "Very you."

"You don't know me."

"I know you write dirty books. I know you like to read while drinking coffee. I know you haven't had sex in at least two years based on how desperate you were yesterday." He turned to face me. "And I know you think about me when you touch yourself."

My face burned. "Get out."

"Can't. I have a job to do."

"Then do it without talking."

"Where's the fun in that?" He set his coffee down on my counter and pulled out a tablet. "Let's go over the basics. I'll need your schedule—where you go, when, who you see. I'll need a key to your apartment. And I'll need you to install a security system."

"No."

"Which part?"

"All of it. I'm not giving you a key, I'm not installing cameras, and I'm definitely not giving you my schedule."

"Then I'll get all of that from your father."

"You're enjoying this."

"Immensely." He looked up from the tablet. "Look, Daisy. I get it. This is invasive. You don't want me here. But someone attacked your sister, and your father thinks you're next. So either you work with me, or I make your life infinitely more difficult. Your choice."

I glared at him, hating how right he was.

"Fine. But we need ground rules."

"I'm listening."

"No more texting me inappropriate things. No more watching me through windows. No more—"

"No more what? Making you think about me?" He stepped closer. "Daisy, I'll follow whatever professional boundaries you want during work hours. But after hours?" His eyes dropped to my lips. "All bets are off."

"There are no after hours. You're my bodyguard, twenty-four seven."

"Exactly." His smile was pure sin. "Which means I'll be around twenty-four seven. In your apartment. Outside your bedroom. Watching."

My core clenched involuntarily.

"This is a nightmare."

"Or a fantasy. Depends on your perspective." He picked up his coffee and headed toward my door. "I'll be back tonight at eight with the security equipment. Make sure you're dressed. Or don't. I'm flexible."

He opened the door and paused.

"Oh, and Daisy? Lock this behind me. Anyone could walk in."

Then he was gone.

I stood there, shaking with anger and frustration and something darker.

My phone buzzed.

**Killian: This is my work number. Save it. You're going to need it.**

Another buzz.

**Killian: And just so we're clear—I meant what I said yesterday. Next time you put on a show, leave the blinds open.**

I screamed into a pillow.

This was going to be hell.

Absolute hell.

My phone rang. Unknown number.

I answered without thinking. "What now?"

Heavy breathing. Then a voice I didn't recognize—low, distorted.

"I know who you are, Daisy Macklin. And I'm coming for you."

The line went dead.