His Territory

8

Cristian had been sweet when he first explained his plan to keep me safe, convincing me that having a bodyguard was necessary until things settled down. He insisted that I wouldn't go anywhere alone until the block was clear.

But when he told his men, there was no sweetness. He texted them one by one, and soon the house was filled with bodies, each sitting scattered around like they were at some kind of twisted family reunion.

"If I see one scratch on this beautiful skin," he said, gesturing to my face, "I'll cut the throat of whoever was supposed to protect her. Trátala como oro, o te trataré como basura."

Cristian split his men into assignments, each with a role to play in my protection. Knowing I was depending on strangers should have made me feel guilty, but the weight of Adrián's looming threat outweighed any sense of pride. I accepted the help in silence.

A few of his guys were outside my house, painting over the graffiti from my late-night visitors, while others worked to identify the tag they left behind. And Cristian? He personally assigned himself to accompany me grocery shopping.

We sat in his car outside the house, the silence between us thick. One hand gripped the leather of the steering wheel, while his other thumb scrolled rapidly through his phone. The top was down, and a light breeze pushed stray hairs into my face. I didn't dare question why we hadn't moved yet—crossing him seemed unwise. If I upset him, what would stop him from handing me over to Adrián?

After a few long minutes, Cristian sighed deeply and tossed his phone into the cupholder, turning to face me.

"Where to, princesa?" he asked, holding out his hand over the console, an invitation I wasn't sure I wanted to accept. I tucked my hands under my thighs, avoiding his gesture.

"I need groceries. I haven't bought any food since I moved in."

I looked down the street, my thoughts spiraling back to what he had said in his room earlier: I'm going to make you mine.

Did he mean I was his responsibility? Or did he mean something more possessive? I'd heard lines like that before, promises that turned into nightmares. Do I even like Cristian? Or am I scared of him? His smile, when he chose to show it, was undeniably gorgeous, and his gaze was... paralyzing.

I shook my head, trying to clear the growing fog of thoughts.

Cristian's hand shot out and jiggled my arm lightly. "Are you even here right now, Lu? Or are you off in la-la land?"

"Lu?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. The only person who ever called me that was my mom, and she hadn't spoken it in years.

"Yeah, it's cute, right? A little pet name for you," he said with a grin that had no right being that charming.

I couldn't help but smile, a small chuckle escaping my lips. "You know, for a supposed cold-blooded killer, you do smile a lot."

His expression hardened instantly, and he turned to face forward. "I'm not a killer," he said, gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He quickly released it, shifting the car into gear without another word.

♛♛♛

He pulled into the parking lot of a small market a few blocks from my apartment, easing into a spot far from the entrance. He exhaled sharply, yanked the keys from the ignition, and stepped out of the car.

"Stay here. I'll be back in a second."

I nodded, not bothering to argue. He slammed the door and walked off, scanning the lot as if searching for threats. I watched him in the rearview mirror as he circled back to the car and yanked open the passenger door.