1
Luke
Ryan’s voice was tight.
Not business-tight, not the kind of cool, measured steel he wore like armor in every boardroom. No — this was a different tight. A jagged, cracking edge that made my stomach coil because if Ryan Rhodes was showing cracks, then shit was bad.
He wasn’t the type to rattle. Not by Wall Street sharks. Not by hostile takeovers. The man could bluff the Devil himself into folding his hand, and I’d seen him do it more than once. But tonight? Tonight he couldn’t even keep his hands still.
“It’s Cammie.” His palm dragged down his jaw, the sound rough against his stubble, his eyes flicking anywhere but mine. “She won’t admit it, but she’s not okay. That asshole—” His voice snapped off, his jaw grinding, rage simmering so hot I swore I could feel it radiate off him. “I don’t even want to say his fucking name. He broke her down, Luke. And I’m leaving for London in the morning.”
My back pressed into his kitchen counter, arms crossed, expression flat, but inside?
Fuck.
Cammie Rhodes.
His little sister.
The girl I’d promised myself — promised him — I’d never touch.
Except I’d been touching her in my head for years.
Ryan didn’t notice the war tearing me in half. He was too busy pacing his sleek penthouse like a caged animal, drowning in the helplessness of a man who could control empires but not his own blood.
“She won’t talk to me about it,” he bit out. “She won’t talk to anyone. But I can’t just leave her here. Not when he’s still out there.”
My jaw locked so tight it ached. “Is he bothering her?”
Ryan didn’t answer. Not with words. Just that split-second silence, his throat bobbing, his fists curling at his sides.
That was all I needed.
That motherfucker.
Heat licked down my spine, fury sharp and cutting. I’d never met him — Cammie had been cagey as hell about her so-called relationship — but I’d seen enough. Enough to know he wasn’t shit. Enough to know he didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. And if he so much as looked in her direction again, I’d break his goddamn hands and feed him his own teeth.
Ryan stopped pacing. Turned. Pinned me with a look like a command, like a death sentence.
“You’re the only one I trust.” His voice was steady now, final. “Stay close. Keep her safe. Don’t let him anywhere near her. Please, Luke.”
The request hit like a punch to the chest.
Protecting her?
Living in her orbit?
Watching over her every move?
He had no fucking clue what he was asking.
I should’ve said no. Should’ve told him to hire private security, to stick her in their parents’ fortress of a house, to do literally anything except put her in my hands.
But then I heard my own voice. Low. Final. Inevitable.
“I’ll take care of her.”
Ryan exhaled, some of the weight lifting from his shoulders, relief flickering over his face. “Thank you, man. I knew I could count on you.”
Count on me.
If only he knew.
Because what I felt for Cammie wasn’t brotherly.
It wasn’t protective.
It wasn’t clean or noble or anything that could be labeled as “just watching out for her.”
No. It was darker.
It was a slow-burn obsession, a gnawing hunger that had been eating me alive since the day she grew up, since the day she stopped being just Ryan’s kid sister and turned into every forbidden fucking thought in my head.
And now?
Now he was handing her to me on a silver platter.
I left his place that night with a single thought burning through me like gasoline catching flame:
She was mine to guard.
Mine to watch.
Mine to fucking claim.
