Dangerously Handsome

~Rhea

I stepped out of the shower, steam curling around me like a lover’s breath.

The hot water had finally washed away the gunpowder stink and the adrenaline sweat from that chaotic rescue. Fifty days. Just fifty damn days of babysitting some rich kid who probably thought danger was something that happened in video games.

Towel? Somewhere on the floor. I didn’t bother grabbing one yet. The safe house was secure, cameras off in the private wing, and after the night I’d had, walking around naked in my own space felt like the only luxury I was allowed.

I padded across the cool tiles toward the bedroom, water still dripping from my skin, hair heavy and wet down my back.

My muscles ached in that satisfying way that reminded me I was still alive and that I’d just dropped five armed men like it was Tuesday.

Then I pushed open the bedroom door.

And froze.

Kai stood right there in the middle of my room, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, staring like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. Or at least the meaning of breasts.

For one glorious, mortifying second, everything went silent except the drip drip drip of water hitting the floor.

Then I screamed.

“Fuck!”

I lunged for the towel on the bed, yanking it around my body so fast I nearly tripped. The fabric barely covered the important bits, clinging damply to my curves as I clutched it like a shield.

Kai’s hands flew up in surrender. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry…” he whispered frantically, voice cracking like a teenager caught raiding the fridge at 3 a.m. “I didn’t mean, I was just… the door was open and I thought…”

“What the hell are you doing in my room?!” I shouted, voice sharp enough to cut glass. My heart hammered against my ribs, half from shock, half from the way his eyes had lingered a bit too long before guilt kicked in.

I stormed forward and planted both hands on his chest, pushing him backward with enough force to make him stumble.

He was taller than me, but right now he felt like a startled puppy. A very attractive, very annoying startled puppy.

“Out! Get the fuck out, Kai!”

He kept whispering sorry like a broken record as I shoved him through the doorway, his back hitting the frame with a dull thud.

His face was flushed crimson, eyes darting everywhere except directly at me now. Cute. Pathetic. Dangerously distracting.

I slammed the door in his face and leaned against it, breathing hard. The towel slipped a little, I yanked it back up with a growl.

Of all the spoiled heirs I’d protected over the years, politicians' sons, tech moguls, even that one diplomat who cried during gunfights, Kai had to be the most childish.

Whispering sorry like he was five years old. Wandering into my private quarters like the house was his personal playground. And yet…

I pressed my forehead to the cool wood, cursing under my breath. …he was also almost the most attractive one.

That messy hair, those wide eyes, the way his shirt had clung to his chest earlier when he was still reeling from the bike ride. The ridiculous mix of panic and poorly hidden desire rolling off him in waves.

Fifty days.

Fifty long days of having this man under my roof, under my protection, constantly testing my patience and my self control.

I couldn’t cross the line. Not with a client. Never with a client. One slip, one moment of weakness, and everything I’d built, my reputation, my career, my ability to stay detached would go up in smoke.

He was property. My responsibility. Nothing more.

Even if the way he looked at me made heat pool low in my belly.

Even if the memory of his body pressed against my back on that bike kept replaying in my head.

I took a deep breath, adjusted the towel, and called through the door, voice steady again but laced with warning:

“Next time you wander into my room without knocking, I won’t push you out. I’ll throw you out the window. Understood, pretty boy?”

From the other side came a muffled, sheepish, “Yes, ma’am…”

I rolled my eyes, fighting the reluctant smile tugging at my lips.

This was going to be a very long fifty days.

__________

___________

Morning.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand just as I finished pulling on a fresh black tank top and tactical pants. I glanced at the screen, Mr. Lennox. Kai’s father.

I answered on the second ring, keeping my voice cool and professional. “Mr. Lennox.”

“Rhea Kane I presume,” he said, tone clipped and authoritative, the way only billionaires who think money can fix everything speak. “How’s the boy? Is he in check?”

I leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the hallway out of habit. “He’s secure. Shaken, but alive. I’ve got him contained in the safe house.”

“Good. He’s my life, Rhea. My only heir. Make sure you do your job properly, no mistakes. I don’t pay premium rates for excuses.”

I rolled my eyes but kept my tone steady. “He’s covered, sir. Fifty days. He’ll be breathing when you see him again.”

“See that he is.” The line went dead.

I exhaled slowly. Great. No pressure.

Before I could pocket the phone, Kai appeared in the doorway of the living area, looking sheepish and still a little flushed. “Hey… Rhea? I, uh, need some clothes. I didn’t exactly pack for a surprise kidnapping slash rescue situation. Everything I had is back at the alley.”

I nodded, already moving toward the spare wardrobe in the secure wing. “Stay put. I’ll find something.”

The wardrobe held a mix of oversized tactical gear and civilian clothes left by previous clients or my team.

I grabbed a plain black t-shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants that looked like they might actually fit his taller frame. Nothing fancy, but better than walking around in yesterday’s blood splattered shirt.

When I stepped back out into the hallway, clothes in hand, I expected to see Kai still in the same rumpled outfit from last night.

Instead, he stood there fresh from the shower.

Wearing nothing but a white towel slung low around his hips.

The towel started just below his navel, exposing a mouth watering stretch of toned stomach, defined six pack abs that flexed slightly with each breath, and a sharp V-line that disappeared temptingly under the fabric.

Water droplets trailed down his chest, catching the light like he was some kind of Calvin Klein model who’d wandered into my safe house by mistake.

His face card was a solid 100, sharp jaw, full lips, those intense eyes framed by messy, damp curly hair that begged to be grabbed.

A small tattoo peeked out on the side of his neck, something intricate and dark that made him look both dangerous and delicious.

“Oh my God.”

I gulped. Loudly. My throat suddenly felt desert dry.

Kai tilted his head, curly strands falling over his forehead. “Rhea? You okay?”

The sound of my name in his voice snapped me out of the trance. Heat flooded my cheeks, something that almost never happened. I was supposed to be the one in control here.

I cleared my throat, forcing my gaze up to his face. “How old are you?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Twenty two.”

A slow smile curved my lips, more to steady myself than anything. Twenty two. Barely legal in some circles, and here I was, ogling my client like a horny teenager.

“I’m twenty seven,” I said, voice dropping into that commanding tone I used when I needed to remind myself and him who was in charge. “Five years older than you, pretty boy. So stop looking at me like I’m your personal slut, or I’ll practice some taekwondo moves on you that’ll leave you limping for a week.”

His eyes widened, a mix of surprise and something hotter flickering across his face.

Before he could respond, I hurled the bundle of clothes at his chest. The shirt and sweatpants hit him square in the torso with a soft thump. He caught them clumsily, towel slipping dangerously low for a split second.

“Get dressed,” I ordered, already turning on my heel and slamming the door between us.

The second it clicked shut, I leaned back against it, eyes squeezed closed, and screamed inwardly.

“FUCKKKKK.”

Of all the clients I've ever worked with… why did this one have to look like that? Six pack, curly hair, neck tattoo, and a face that could melt professional boundaries. Fifty days of this? I was going to need another cold shower. Or ten.

And a very, very strong reminder that he was my property to protect, not to devour.