Richard Sinclair, the billionaire he was now working for, stood before him, exuding power and control. The man was in his late fifties, sharp-dressed in a tailored navy suit that probably cost more than Logan made in a month. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, and his cold blue eyes measured Logan with a mixture of skepticism and authority.
"Your job is simple, Carter," Richard said, his voice smooth but edged with an unspoken warning. "My wife, Eleanor, requires protection. She has a habit of being... fragile. I want her safe. I want her watched. And most importantly, I want her to understand that her safety depends on following the rules."
Logan kept his expression unreadable. He had protected politicians, celebrities, and high-profile executives before. He had seen fragile, but he had also seen controlled. The way Richard spoke of his wife made something in Logan's gut tighten, but he stayed professional.
"Understood," Logan said, his voice even. "Are there any specific threats I should be aware of?"
Richard's lips curled into something that was supposed to resemble a smile, but it never reached his eyes. "Not at the moment. Just keep her in line. If she tries anything reckless, you report it to me immediately. Do I make myself clear?"
Logan nodded. "Crystal."
Richard turned to one of the staff members and gave a curt nod. Within moments, a woman appeared at the top of the grand staircase.
Eleanor Sinclair.
She moved with an air of quiet grace, her slender frame draped in an elegant silk dress that shimmered under the chandelier's glow. Her long, dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her deep brown eyes held a guarded expression.
Logan had seen pictures of her before, but no photograph could capture the aura of sadness that clung to her. There was something else too-something he recognized from his time in the military. It was the look of someone trapped, someone used to swallowing their screams.
Eleanor's eyes flicked to Richard first, as if seeking silent permission before addressing Logan. "So, you're my new shadow?" she asked softly.
Her voice was like velvet, but there was no warmth behind it. Logan met her gaze, offering a subtle nod. "Logan Carter, ma'am. I'll be ensuring your safety."
She let out a quiet breath, almost a sigh of resignation. "Of course. My safety."
Richard stepped forward, placing a hand possessively on her lower back. She didn't flinch, but Logan noticed the way her fingers curled slightly, as if bracing herself.
"Eleanor, you'll do as you're told," Richard said smoothly. "Logan will be with you at all times. He reports to me. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes, Richard," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Something in Logan's chest tightened at the sight of her, but he pushed it aside. This was just another job. Another assignment. Nothing more.
But as he followed Eleanor through the pristine halls of the Sinclair estate, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just walked into something far more dangerous than he had ever anticipated.