Say My Name

Her – Amy 25, bold, clever, chaotic in heels. Recently returned from a self-imposed “disgrace exile” after getting caught in a scandal (maybe she leaked private family secrets anonymously).🌚😈 Not looking to behave. Plays hard, but secretly wants someone to see her as more than “the boss’s daughter”.

Him – Edward 30, ex-military, now head of private security at his father’s company. Cold. Intense. Dangerous calm. Doesn’t speak unless he has to. Doesn’t look unless he’s breaking you down.

A brat, A wall. But under the tension is heat they both try to ignore.

THE RETURN:

The air tasted the same. Humid, sun-warmed, and heavy with the scent of bougainvillea, just as she remembered. But it didn’t welcome her. It lingered like a reminder: You’re back. You lost.

Amy stepped off the private jet with her sunglasses already on. Not because of the sun, but because she didn’t want anyone seeing her eyes especially not after that smoke she had to clear the thoughts of her returning home again.

Her heels clicked onto the marble tarmac as if she belonged there. She didn’t.

At the bottom of the stairs, three men in black suits waited. Two were staff. One was Edward.

Of course it was him.

He looked taller than she remembered. Or maybe she’d forgotten just how much space he could take up when he stood still and said nothing. His hands were clasped in front of him. He wore a tailored black-on-black suit, no tie, wristwatch gleaming silver under the cuff.

Polished. Calm. Unfazed. Like someone who hadn’t been publicly embarrassed by the bride who never showed up.

Like someone who hadn’t been humiliated when her scandal made the front page six hours after their engagement was announced.

“Amy” he said, his voice quiet but clear.

She didn’t slow her walk. “Edward”

He didn’t offer a smile. Not even a nod. Just studied her like a puzzle he’d already solved.

“Your father asked me to escort you home,” he said.“Couldn’t the driver do that?”

“He thought you’d be more comfortable with someone familiar.”

“I tried to sabotage our engagement. That doesn’t exactly scream familiarity.”

There was a flicker in his eyes….amusement? Pain? She couldn’t tell. His expression returned to neutral in a breath.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We never really got to meet.”

A pause.

Then:

“I’m Edward Cole. Son of Michael Cole. Trained in executive security. Formerly your fiancé.” But you already knew this when we went for that date. But since you’re in denial, I’ll introduce myself as many times as you want.

His voice was steady. His gaze direct.

She hated how cool he was. How collected.

“I remember,” she said.

“I asked to be here, by the way. No one forced me.”Why?

She didn’t ask it out loud. Instead, she rolled her suitcase past him and muttered, “Let’s get this over with.”

He followed two steps behind, silent. The ride to the estate was quiet. Too quiet.

Edward sat opposite her in the town car, legs spread comfortably, arms resting on his knees. He wasn’t watching her. But he was aware of her.

She hated that. “I thought someone like you would want nothing to do with me after the mess I made,” she said flatly.

He didn’t look up. “I thought someone like you wouldn’t come back.”

Touché.

“You’re here now,” he added. “And I’m here to keep you out of trouble.”

“Are you a babysitter or a bodyguard?”

He finally looked at her. “I’m whatever keeps you safe, Amy..”

Something about the way he said her name settled in her stomach like heat.

When she stepped into the house, the smell of jasmine hit her hard.

But even harder was what sat waiting on the marble console in the entryway: a bouquet of fresh tulips. Deep pink. Her favorite.

She froze. Blinked. Looked around.

“Staff must be practicing nostalgia,” she muttered.

“I left them,” Edward said simply, walking past her.

She turned, heart skipping. “You?”

“You once told me tulips feel like spring, even in November.”

“When?” “On our blind date.”

“That was over a year ago.”

“You wore a gold ring on your thumb and took the crust off your pizza. You said you liked hot baths because they wrapped you up when nothing else could.”

She stared at him, stunned. “And you’re allergic to hazelnuts,” he added without looking back. “So I made sure your welcome chocolates didn’t include any.”

He disappeared into the hallway like he hadn’t just cracked open the memory of a four-hour date she’d written off as forgettable.

Except he hadn’t forgotten a single thing.

And now, neither could she.