VALERIE

Brian drives me to my morning class, Economics 101, and tells me he'll be back to escort me to my afternoon photography class.

"I have a meeting with your father's security team at noon," he explains as we walk across campus. "I'll pick you up at the Economics building at 1:30."

"I can find my way to the Visual Arts Center," I say, adjusting my camera bag. "It's literally across the quad."

"1:30," he repeats. His tone leaves no room for an argument. "Wait inside the building if I'm running late."

I nod, not even bothering to argue. I'm already forming a plan.

Economics drags on for ninety minutes. The professor drones about supply and demand while I count the minutes until freedom. When class finally ends, I check my phone. It’s 11:45. Brian should be heading to his meeting now.

I wait for fifteen minutes just to be safe, then I text him.

Me: Class let out early. I’m heading to the library to study until photography. Don't worry, I’m staying indoors.

It's not exactly a lie. I do plan to stop by the library, just not for long.

His response comes quickly.

Brian: Stay there. I'll pick you up at 1:15.

I reply to his text immediately.

Me: There’s no need to rush your meeting. The library is full of people. It’s safe.

After waiting to make sure he doesn't argue further, I slip my phone into my pocket and head outside. The September air feels like freedom after being under Brian's watchful eye for two days. I take my time crossing campus, and savoring this small taste of independence.

The library is crowded, just like I expected. I sign in at the front desk, and browse the shelves for a few more minutes to establish my presence, then I quietly slip out through a side entrance. The Visual Arts Center is a ten-minute walk, so I have plenty of time to get there early and settle in.

My photography class is exactly what I need. It’s creative, engaging, and completely separate from the drama of my personal life. I lose myself in discussions about composition and light, momentarily forgetting about threats and bodyguards.

Until the class ends, and I see him waiting in the hallway.

Brian leans against the wall outside the classroom with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks casual to anyone passing by, but I can see the tension in his jaw, and the slight fury in his eyes.

I consider my options. I could retreat into the classroom, but that would only delay the inevitable. It’s better to face him head-on.

"Hey," I say, approaching him with a casualness I know is forced. "Class just finished."

"I'm aware." His voice is dangerously calm. "Your library study session must have been enlightening."

"I decided I needed the fresh air," I reply, keeping my tone light despite the growing knot in my stomach.

Brian takes my elbow, and moves me away from the rush of students leaving the classroom. His grip isn't tight, but it's firm enough to make his point.

"You lied to me," he says quietly once we're in a less crowded part of the hallway.

"I made a judgment call," I counter. "I was perfectly safe walking across a crowded campus in broad daylight."

"That wasn't your call to make." His voice drops even lower, forcing me to lean in closer in order to hear him. "You deliberately went against my rules."

"Your rules are already suffocating me, and it hasn’t even been three days," I hiss back. "I need some breathing room, Brian. I can't live like a prisoner."

"You think this is a game?" His eyes meet mine, and his gaze is intense enough to make my heart skip. "While you were enjoying your 'freedom,' I was reviewing new threats that came in this morning."

That silences me. "New threats?" I ask quietly.

"Photos of you entering the elevator to our apartment yesterday. Which means someone followed us from campus." His jaw clenches. "So forgive me if I don't appreciate your little rebellion today."

Guilt and fear make my heart plummet, but I push them aside. "You can't expect me to live in terror."

"I expect you to trust that I know what I'm doing." His voice has dropped to a whisper, and his face is now inches from mine as he leans closer. "This isn't a game, Valerie. Your life is in danger."

A group of students passes by, and one of them nudges another with a knowing smirk in our direction. I suddenly realize how we must look with our bodies close, voices hushed, and tension radiating between us. Not like security and client, but like lovers in the midst of an intimate conversation.

The thought makes my cheeks warm, and I step back slightly. "People are staring."

Brian notices too, and his expression changes as he creates a more appropriate distance between us. "Let's go."

As we start walking, I spot Jason from my photography class heading our way. He's cute in an artistic kind of way. He has shaggy hair, soulful eyes, and paint-splattered clothes. We chatted briefly before class about our mutual love of black and white photography.

A petty idea forms in my mind. If Brian's going to control my every move, I can at least remind him that he doesn't control my social life.

"Jason!" I call out, waving. "Hey, wait up!"

Jason turns, and a smile spreads across his face when he sees me. "Valerie! I loved your comments about contrast in class."

I step closer to him, deliberately tossing my hair back and touching his arm lightly. "Thanks! I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee sometime and talk more about the assignment?"

From the corner of my eye, I see Brian stiffen. His posture shifts into something more alert, more protective. Or is it possessive?

"Yeah, that would be awesome," Jason replies. His gaze moves over to Brian curiously before returning back to me.

"Great! I'll text you," I say, despite not having his number. "I’m really looking forward to it."

Before Jason can respond, I feel Brian's hand settle firmly on my lower back. The heat of his palm feels warm through my shirt.

"We need to go," Brian says. His voice is pleasant despite the pressure of his fingers against my spine. "We have an important appointment to keep."

"Oh," I say, feigning disappointment. "Well, I’ll see you on Thursday then, Jason."

Brian's hand slides to my waist as he guides me away. I know the gesture would look casual and intimate to anyone watching. Only I can feel the strength in his grip, and the subtle message in how his fingers press against my side.