-Ace-
She didn't want the damn guard.She doesn't even want anything from me.
That was the first thing I heard when Kai called me at 8:00a.m.
"Sir," Kai said cautiously, "Ms. Hazel has expressed… firm disapproval of the security personnel assigned to her residence."
"Disapproval," I repeated, already irritated. "She's not aware that she just underwent a medical procedure and could need assistance?"
"She said she's perfectly capable of going home on her own. The guard later escorted her to the hospital to see her mother and—"
"She refused?"
"No, sir. She later agreed after some argument.
I wasn't the one who suggested a bodyguard but I know who. It has to be. She's the only one with reasons to.
I clicked the phone off without replying. Hazel didn't want the guard. Didn't want the estate. Didn't want any of the things people like her were supposed to want.
And instead of brushing it off like I should have, I stood there in the middle of my kitchen, coffee going cold on the counter, wondering why in hell that bothered me more than it should.
I hadn't expected her to be difficult.
I'd expected her to be like the others — passive, accommodating, grateful. The kind who saw the money and the protection and said "yes, sir" until the job was done.
But Hazel…
Hazel had turned down the estate. Turned down private medical staff. And now she was rejecting a bodyguard like it was some kind of insult. What did she think this was? A favor?
No. She's carrying my heir. This is business!!
Except business didn't usually keep me up wondering why someone I barely knew insisted on choosing discomfort over convenience.
I dragged a hand over my face and opened my messages.
"Ensure that Hazel receives a full shipment of groceries, first aid, fresh linens, and a cleaning service twice weekly. Do it discreetly.
The guard stays nearby but keeps a low profile. She doesn't need to know we're watching. Make sure she's safe. No confrontation."
I hit send. Because even if she didn't want protection, that didn't mean I was going to leave her vulnerable.
The rest of the day blurred through meetings and calls — investor decks, quarterly forecasts, and a dozen conversations I barely remembered. I showed up. I answered. But my mind wasn't fully in it. It kept drifting back to her.
Why the hell was she like this?
I had vetted her. Twenty-two. Nursing assistant. No debt. No family liabilities except her mother — who was still in recovery and clearly depended on her.
Someone like that didn't say no to backup. To money. To protection. But this girl did.
I sat back in my office chair, jaw clenched, staring out the window. What if it wasn't pride? What if she didn't trust me?
I don't have all the time in the world to start drifting especially when it was related to a poor girl. I dropped by the main house. Something I avoided unless absolutely necessary. But I'd been summoned. Predictably.
The dining hall smelled like roasted garlic. My mother was already seated at the long table, drink in hand, with her perfect blonde her. If you caught her smiling you're very lucky. She never finds anything funny.
"Ace," she greeted, as if we were cordial. "You've been awfully busy for a man who claims this arrangement is strictly professional."
I didn't answer. Just poured myself a drink and sat across from her.
She took a slow sip of her wine. "I heard she turned down the estate."
"She did."
"And now she's refusing a bodyguard?" Her smile thinned. "Interesting."
I looked up. "You sent the guard?"
"Of course. We can't have her…"
"You don't do anything without running it through me."
She laughed lightly, unaffected. "You were going to send someone eventually. I just… expedited the process."
"Don't." My tone dropped. "Don't turn this into one of your psychological experiments. She's not a pawn."
"Oh, darling. Everything in your world is a pawn. You just don't like that she doesn't play by your rules."
I stood, done. "Stay out of it."
"Be careful," she warned softly as I turned to leave. "The ones who act like they need nothing… always end up costing the most."
I would not have you do this rubbish! I slapped my cutlery across the table and walked out.
I got into my Gwagon and drove home. I pulled out my phone and opened the internal live feed to check if the guard was in position.
He was. Sitting discreetly across from Hazel's street in an unmarked vehicle. No interference. Just eyes.
I should have felt relieved.
But instead, I felt like I'd lost a round of something I hadn't realized I was playing.
And for the first time in a long time… I didn't like how that felt.