House Rules

(ZAYNE'S POV)

For a full five seconds, I just stand there. Staring.

Because there she is.

Aurianna.

At my fucking door.

Platinum blonde hair. Icy blue eyes. Dressed in black jeans and a simple shirt like she's not the same woman who nearly broke my nose last weekend.

She smirks, one brow lifting. "You gonna let me in, or are you planning to keep standing there like you've seen a ghost?"

My brain finally reboots. "Uh... no, I mean-yeah, come in."

Before I can even move, I hear a voice from my phone. "Hey, Zayne? Is that her?"

Right. Cameron's still on FaceTime.

I blink, still processing. "Uh, I'll talk to you later, Cam."

"What? No, no, no, no-turn the phone around, let me-"

"Bye." I end the call, shove my phone into my pocket, and run a hand through my hair like that'll somehow help me look less like a dumbass.

Aurianna raises an eyebrow. "Didn't expect me so soon?"

"I-uh-thought there'd be some sort of notice."

She shrugs, stepping inside like she owns the place. "Your life's already in my hands. No reason to stall."

Then she just... pushes past me, like I'm a doorframe. She drags her luggage in, drops it on the living room floor, and takes a slow look around. Her gaze sweeps over the space-the high ceilings, the grand piano, the leather couches, the crystal decanter sitting on the sideboard.

"Nice place," she says, like she's inspecting a property listing.

"Thanks," I mutter, still a little dazed.

I grab my phone again, call one of the staff, and tell them to take her box upstairs to one of the guest rooms. Meanwhile, Aurianna walks over to the sofa and plops down like she's been here for years. Then she pats the spot beside her.

"Sit."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

Her tone doesn't change. "Sit, Zayne."

I sigh, walking over slowly before dropping down next to her. "Alright. What now, Sergeant?"

"Now," she says, crossing one leg over the other, "since I'm going to be living here until the man threatening your life is arrested and locked away, we need to set a few house rules."

I frown. "House rules?"

"Yeah. House rules."

"Are you serious?" I ask.

"Dead serious." She leans back and folds her arms. "I noticed your security team outside when I got here-big guys, black suits, earpieces, sunglasses. I give you an A for effort for taking such a good precaution. But men like that can't stop a Mafia Don from having your head on a silver platter. They only make you look easier to find."

I stare at her. "You're saying my security makes me more of a target?"

"Exactly."

"Great." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "So what, I fire them all?"

"No," she says easily. "You keep them. But you follow my rules."

I roll my eyes. "Let's hear them, then."

"Rule number one. You don't leave this house without me. Ever. If you're going to work, a party, a date, whatever-you tell me first. I go with you."

I immediately burst out laughing. "You can't be serious."

Her face doesn't move. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"This is ridiculous," I say, shaking my head. "If this is what it takes to prevent getting assassinated I would've hired a babysitter, instead. It's much cheaper too."

She smirks faintly. "Cute. But this isn't babysitting. I've dealt with the Mafia before. These guys don't play games. They could come at you anywhere, anytime, when you least expect it. So yeah, you need someone who actually knows how to keep you alive."

I stare at her for a beat, trying to decide whether I'm impressed or offended. "You done?"

"Not yet."

"Oh good." I sigh, rolling my eyes.

"Rule number two," she says, holding up two fingers. "You don't stay out past 8 p.m."

That's when I shoot up from the couch. "What?! No. Fuck no. What am I, twelve?"

She just looks up at me, completely unbothered. "It's safer that way. From what I read in your file, the two previous assassination attempts happened at night. Broad daylight's lower risk but still not zero. So that means no clubbing, or late-night outings of any kind."

"Unbelievable." I mutter under my breath, grinding my teeth against each other. I start pacing, running my hands through my hair. "You can't just barge into my house and tell me what I can and can't do."

"Actually," she says, tilting her head, "I can. Because right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and a bullet to the head."

I spin back toward her. "You really get off on bossing people around, don't you?"

She grins. "Only the ones who think they don't need saving."

I glare at her. "I'm starting to think you don't care whether I live or die."

"Oh, I care." She leans forward slightly. "I just find it hard to believe that you do."

That one hits deeper than I want to admit.

"Christ," I mutter, pacing again. "You're impossible."

"Mm." She stands too, stepping right into my path until we're only a foot apart. Her presence is calm but heavy. Then she stretches out her hand with her palm wide open.

I blink. "What?"

"Your phone."

"Why?" I ask.

"Just give it."

"Whatever." I sigh, dig it out of my pocket, and slap it into her palm. "Happy?"

She ignores me completely and pulls out her own phone, tapping rapidly on both screens like she's hacking the Pentagon.

A minute later her brows perk up. "Done."

I frown. "Done with what?"

"I linked your phone to mine. Now I can see where you are at all times."

I open my mouth to argue, but my phone suddenly pings.

Aurianna looks down at it and her eyes widen. "Oh..."

"Oh what?"

"Cindy number three just sent you a nude."

"What?!" My eyes go wide as I snatch the phone out of her hand. "Give me that!"

She raises a brow, fighting a grin. "You have numbered Cindys?"

"Shut up," I mutter, jamming the phone back into my pocket. I can already feel the heat creeping up my neck and my ears.

I'm about to say something else when a voice echoes from upstairs.

"Brielle! Get back here! You still have to finish your homework!"

Aurianna blinks. "What-"

But before she can finish, a small figure darts down the staircase, her black hair bouncing, laughter filling the room.

"Daddy!"

I barely have time to react before my daughter throws herself into my arms. I catch her, laughing despite myself. "Bree! What did I tell you about running down the stairs?"

She wraps her little arms around my neck, giggling. "Miss Clara's making me do homework. I don't wanna!"

Behind her, her nanny appears, out of breath. "Mr. Beaumont, I'm so sorry-she slipped out before I could stop her."

"It's fine, Clara," I say, still smiling at Bree. Then I look at my daughter. "You know the deal, princess. No homework, no Barbie dream house."

Brielle pouts, crossing her arms. "That's not fair."

"Life's not fair," I tease, setting her down gently.

That's when I hear Aurianna's voice behind me.

"Daddy?"

I turn around. She's staring at me like I just sprouted a second head.

"Wait..." Her brows knit together. "You have a daughter?"

I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling awkward as hell. "Uh... yeah. That's uh... Brielle."

Before I can explain further, Brielle turns and spots Aurianna properly for the first time. Her green eyes widen, and she gasps. Then she runs straight to her, wrapping her small arms around Aurianna's waist.

"Mommy!" she squeals.

Aurianna freezes, her eyes going wide, lips parted like she's not sure she heard right.

And I just stand there, completely speechless, staring at the two of them.

What. The. Fuck.