Chapter Twenty-Five: The Gift and the Guard

The night air in the mansion felt different. Charged. Electric. Like the very walls were holding their breath, waiting for something to shatter.

It was two nights before the gala, and I was pacing the hallway outside the master suite like a caged lioness. My silk nightgown clung to my heated skin, and every shadow seemed to whisper secrets I wasn't ready to hear.

The weight of everything was on my shoulders and I just knew something would happen.

The gala, the deal, the constant tension between Dominic and me, everything pressed down on my shoulders like a lead blanket.

That's when Dominic appeared.

He moved through the darkness like he owned it, which, let's be honest, he did. In his hand was something small and dangerous-looking—a black velvet box that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

He didn't speak at first. Just held it out to me, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim hallway lighting.

I took it carefully, my fingers brushing his in the exchange. The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm, and I had to bite back a gasp. The box felt heavier than it looked, like it contained more than jewelry—like it held secrets that could destroy kingdoms.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze traveled over my face like he was memorizing every detail, every freckle, every line of worry.

"This," he said finally, his voice rough with something I couldn't name, "is the reason the gala matters."

I blinked, confused. "I thought the business deal was the reason."

"It is." His fingers reached out, barely grazing the lid of the box with a touch so light it made my breath catch. "And this is what seals it. It's a gift. Symbolic. Priceless. Worth more than some countries' entire treasuries. You'll give it to me during the gala, and I'll present it to him. But until then..."

His eyes locked with mine, and I felt that familiar pull, that gravitational force that always existed between us.

"I want you to keep it safe."

I clutched the box tighter, feeling its weight like a responsibility I wasn't sure I could handle. "Why me? You have an entire security team, vaults, safe houses—"

He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne, that intoxicating blend of cedar and danger that made my knees weak.

"Because no one would dare come near you right now without going through five armed guards, three layers of security, and my personal lawyer who's scarier than all of them combined."

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. "And that's supposed to be reassuring?"

His lips curved into that predatory smile that had first caught my attention all those months ago. "Terrifying. For them."

I couldn't help but laugh softly, and something in his expression gentled.

He nodded toward the hallway. "Pick a place. Somewhere you can reach quickly if needed. Only Jules and I need to know the location."

I headed toward my walk-in closet—the one Dominic had transformed into a fortress of designer armor and hidden security features. Past the rows of gowns that cost more than most people's cars, beneath a drawer filled with jewelry that could fund small wars, I lifted a wooden panel to reveal the velvet-lined compartment we'd never used.

Quick. Clean. Accessible.

But as I tucked the box inside, it still felt like hiding a ticking time bomb.

When I returned to the hallway, the sound of laughter drifted from downstairs. Light, musical, feminine laughter that somehow set my teeth on edge.

Jules was in the corridor, talking to someone new.

When I stepped closer, I saw her standing with a woman who looked like she'd stepped out of a security recruitment poster. Tall, with soft brown curls that caught the light, warm amber skin, and dressed in the sleek black uniform of Blackwood security. But there was something about her that was instantly disarming—a softness around the edges that seemed almost out of place in this world of sharp corners and hidden knives.

She was pretty. Polished. And smiling like she genuinely meant it.

Which, in this house full of people who smiled with their teeth but not their eyes, immediately put me on guard.

"Scarlett," Jules called, her voice carefully neutral. "Come meet your new shadow."

The woman turned, and her smile was blindingly bright. "Dina," she said, extending her hand with enthusiasm that seemed almost too genuine. "Dina Hale. I'll be part of your rotating security detail for the next month. Just got assigned today."

Her grip was firm but warm, like shaking hands with a friend rather than a bodyguard.

"I'll be your 'inside eyes,'" she added, and there was something almost shy about the way she said it. "Day or night, if anything feels off—anywhere, anytime—you call me first. I've got your six."

I found myself liking her instantly, which probably should have been my first warning sign.

There was something easy about her. Kind. Human. Real in a way that felt almost foreign in this world of calculated moves and hidden agendas.

Jules said nothing. Just watched with those sharp eyes of hers, the ones that missed nothing and trusted even less.

Her gaze flicked from me to Dina, then back again, like she was solving a puzzle I couldn't even see.

After Dina left to check the garden perimeter, moving with the fluid grace of someone who knew how to handle herself, I turned to Jules.

"You don't like her."

"I don't know her," Jules replied, but there was something in her tone that made my spine tingle with warning.

"That's not what I asked."

Jules shrugged, her expression carefully blank. "She's sweet."

"And?"

"She's too sweet." Jules's voice dropped to that dangerous quiet that meant she was thinking hard about something. "In our world, Scarlett, people who smile that much are usually hiding the biggest knives."

I raised an eyebrow. "You think she's dangerous?"