Beside her, Brynn, her assistant, jogged to keep pace, tablet in hand and eyes wide with that permanent I didn't leak anything, please don't fire me expression.
"They're already quoting it as a 'preview drop,'" Brynn offered helpfully, swiping at the screen. "They think you did it on purpose to stir buzz."
"Terrific. So now I'm either reckless or manipulative." Livia turned toward the elevator bank, jaw tight. "We're launching the tech-glove line in six weeks and someone inside my own damn company is feeding the vultures. I want full access logs. Anyone who opened that design file."
"I already pulled the logs," Brynn said, voice small. "But... that's not all."
Livia stopped walking, halfway to the elevator. She turned. Her eyes narrowed the way they did when a storm was forming.
"Spit it out."
Brynn winced. "The board assigned you a new security detail. Starting this morning."
There was a silence. A long one. Even the receptionist glanced up.
"I didn't approve a security hire."
"They didn't ask. It came directly from-"
"From the board. Of course it did." Livia ran a hand through her perfectly brushed hair, ruining it slightly. "Because clearly I need a babysitter now, too."
"He's already here," Brynn added, voice almost a whisper. "I think you passed him in the lobby."
Livia glanced over her shoulder.
Nothing stood out-just the usual backdrop of polished glass, soft jazz, and men in tailored suits. One of them, leaning casually near the far elevator, wore black-black shirt, black slacks, no tie, no badge. Not talking. Not checking his phone. Just watching.
Livia's gaze locked on him.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The elevator doors slid open with a polished chime.
Livia stepped in without a glance, expecting a quiet ride and a moment to mentally murder every board member on her list.
But he was already inside.
That man in black.
He stood in the back corner of the elevator, hands clasped loosely in front of him, spine perfectly straight, like someone who'd been trained to stay still for hours at a time. He didn't move. Not a blink, not a shift, not even a token nod of greeting.
Livia's heel hesitated on the marble for a fraction of a second-barely noticeable-but the man caught it. She could tell by the flick of his eyes, the smallest acknowledgment.
He pressed no button. Neither did she.
"Top floor," she said coolly, not looking at him.
A pause. Then his hand moved-deliberate, quiet-and pressed the button for her.
That was the first thing she disliked.
The second thing was his voice.
"I'm Reid Vale. I'm your new security liaison."
Smooth, deep, no real emotion.
She turned toward him fully now, folding her arms.
"I didn't ask for a security liaison."
He didn't reply.
"I didn't approve one."
Still nothing.
"You were assigned without my consent."
Finally, his eyes met hers-gray, calm, and annoyingly impossible to read.
"So I gathered," he said.
A beat of silence stretched between them.
"You know, most men try to smile when they're introduced to me."
Reid didn't move. "I'm not most men."
"Clearly," she said, eyeing him like a stylist eyeing a model two sizes too stiff. "You're dressed like you're about to arrest someone. Is that the vibe we're going with now? Intimidation chic?"
"No, ma'am," he said, unbothered. "This is me blending in."
Livia raised a brow. "Blending in? With what-an assassin's convention?"
Reid looked forward. "The less I stand out, the safer you are."
The elevator chimed softly as it passed the 20th floor. Still too far from the top.
"Is this how it's going to be?" she asked, voice cooling. "You, lurking silently behind me all day like some grim-faced gargoyle while I try to run a global company?"
"If that's how you prefer to interpret it."
"That's not an answer."
He didn't blink. "I don't give answers to hypothetical threats."
"And what do you give?" she shot back.
There was no pause this time. "Time. Distance. Reaction before anyone else can."
That shut her up. Not because she agreed-but because the way he said it felt real. Not practiced. Just... true.
The elevator dinged again. They reached the top.
As the doors parted, he stepped out first-quiet, fluid, already scanning the hallway like he'd been here a hundred times before.
He didn't say, "After you."
He didn't look back.
He simply walked, assuming she'd follow.
And Livia did. Not because she wanted to. But because, for the first time in a very long time, she wasn't sure if she was the most dangerous person in the room.
The doors to her office whispered shut behind them with an expensive hiss.
It was all glass and silence-floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, an angular desk in black lacquer, fresh orchids by the window. Immaculate, just like her. And just like her, the space did not appreciate being invaded.
Livia dropped her bag on the desk with unnecessary precision, then turned on him.
"You can stand," she said, gesturing vaguely to the seating area. "Or brood, whichever you prefer."
Reid didn't move. He remained near the door, arms relaxed at his sides, like some luxury-version sentry.
She circled behind her desk slowly, unhurried, pulling off her blazer and draping it over the back of her chair.
"Let's get one thing clear," she said, tapping her nails on the glass. "I don't like shadows. Or surprises. And I especially don't like being watched like some heiress-in-distress who needs a professional wall between her and reality."
Reid didn't argue. He simply waited.
Livia narrowed her eyes. "So let's start with the basics. Name?"
"Reid Vale."
"Background?"
"Private security. Former military. Mostly private clients after that. Corporate detail."
"Who signed your contract?"
He hesitated a fraction of a second-just enough to make her suspicious.
"Your board liaison," he said.
"Which one?"
"Elias Tran."
Of course it was Elias. Conservative. Paranoid. Still living in the Cold War.
She folded her arms. "Did Elias give you any specific instructions? You know-like when to tase me, or what my favorite coffee is so you can casually 'show up' holding one like we're best friends?"
Reid's lips tugged. Barely. Was that a smirk? No-gone too fast.
"I'm not here to be your friend, Miss Grant."
"Thank God," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I already have one of those, and she's ten times more interesting."
He said nothing. Not even a twitch.
She studied him. He was unreadable-not stiff like a soldier pretending to be civilian, but... still. Intent. Contained in that unsettling way only men with long training or long regrets managed.
His clothes were custom-tailored, but without flash. Shoes polished. Hands scarred-but faintly. Old injuries. Long healed.
"How many clients before me?" she asked.
"Enough to be trusted. Not enough to be predictable."
"You memorized that line?"
"No, ma'am."
Livia's fingers drummed. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk.
"I don't trust people who hide behind yes-ma'ams."
He raised an eyebrow. "Would you prefer sarcasm?"
She tilted her head. "I'd prefer honesty. Or at least something human."
A pause.
"I was in Special Forces for six years. Left after my unit commander died. Spent the last four years running high-net-worth protective ops. Mostly for men who liked pretending they were in danger." His voice didn't change. "You're the first client I've had who actually is."
That hit differently.
Livia blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Someone's been inside your building. Twice. Both times after hours. Both times without triggering a single alarm."
Her body stilled.
"You weren't supposed to know that," she said slowly.
"I wasn't supposed to find it," he replied. "But I make a habit of not doing what I'm supposed to."
Now it was her turn to go quiet.
"You don't think it's just corporate espionage?"
"No," Reid said plainly. "You're not being watched for your ideas. You're being watched for you."
He let that hang.
Livia looked at him-really looked.
No emotion in his face. Just focus. Purpose. And something else. A tension under the skin, like a man waiting for the wrong door to open.
She didn't like being watched. But worse-she didn't like feeling... seen.
Finally, she said, "Fine. You stay. For now."
"Understood."
"But don't hover. Don't speak unless I speak first. And for the love of God, don't start calling me Livia unless I'm about to die."
Reid inclined his head once. "Noted."
She gestured toward the door. "Now go stand somewhere silent and tall and brooding. I have work to do."
He left without another word.
But even after he was gone, she felt it-the afterimage of him in the room. Like something too quiet to hear but too heavy to ignore.