RENT A HEART

CHRISTOPHER's POV

"Mi amor," I said warmly as I entered her office. Her face lit up as she stood from her desk and walked toward me. I dropped the package I was carrying onto the floor and quickly swept her up into my arms, twirling her around while she giggled.

That happy sound instantly lifted the weight of the hectic day from my shoulders.

"How was your day?" I asked after gently setting her back on her feet.

"Seeing your face just made it a whole lot better," she beamed, her eyes sparkling before glancing at the package on the floor beside me.

"What's that on the floor?" she asked curiously, bending to pick it up.

"Lunch. I brought you a very delicious lunch," I said, pulling her gently by the waist, drawing her closer. Just as I leaned in to kiss her, a familiar voice cut through the air, interrupting our moment.

"I really do need to get a boyfriend," I heard Stephanie say, and Eve burst into laughter, the sound contagious. Strangely, I'd completely forgotten she was even in the room.

"Hi, Stephanie," I greeted, turning my attention to her as I sat down, Eve settling comfortably onto my lap.

"Hi, Christopher," she replied, making a funny face at us.

"I know a really nice guy, though," Eve said sarcastically, winking at me.

Her friend just rolled her eyes playfully at her. "No, thank you. You two enjoy yourselves. I'll take myself out," she said, and with a dramatic flourish, she left the office.

"She's so dramatic," Eve said, chuckling before turning back to me. "I'm famished. Let's eat," she said, standing up and taking my hand.

With my other hand carrying the food, she led me into her private suite within the office, a space I'd only heard her mention but never seen.

"This is really beautiful," I commented as soon as I took in the design of the room. It was a calming oasis amidst the bustling energy of the office.

"Thank you," she beamed, visibly pleased by my compliment before heading over to a small dining table to set out the food

I was biding my time, waiting for the right moment to ask her about the conversation with Stephanie that she seemed so reluctant to share.

"You must have been really hungry," I chuckled, watching her devour the food.

She just nodded, busily chewing, trying to swallow. "I wouldn't say I'm that hungry, but lately I've been having these intense cravings right after I finish eating. It's as if my metabolism has increased by 100 percent," she said, shaking her head in amusement.

"Must be the babies," I smiled, placing a gentle hand on her stomach. "How are my boys doing, by the way?"

"What if they're girls?" she asked playfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"That would be even better. I'll be a proud girl dad," I said happily, my voice full of genuine affection. The thought of having two beautiful mini-Eves made my heart swell with a warmth that bordered on overwhelming.

"So…" I said, meeting her gaze as she ate.

"So?" she asked, looking at me curiously, her eyebrow arched in a silent invitation for me to continue.

"What were you and Stephanie talking about? The thing you couldn't tell me?" I asked simply, cutting to the chase.

I watched as she swallowed the last morsel of food, took a deliberate sip of water, and then sat up straight, her posture becoming noticeably more rigid.

I felt like every action she took after my question was a calculated attempt to buy time, to come up with a palatable explanation. And that only fueled my suspicion that whatever she was about to say wouldn't be the whole truth. That worried me because if she was this determined to keep it from me, it must be something significant, something that would definitely get me riled up.

"Baby," she said softly, reaching across the table to take my hand. "What we talked about wasn't important, and you definitely don't need to bother yourself about it. It's nothing, really," she reassured, offering a small, tight smile before returning to her food.

I wanted to press further, to demand that she tell me what it was, even if it wasn't that significant, but I held back. All I needed was to get a hold of her phone. Something told me it would lead me straight to the answer I was looking for.

I turned my attention back to my meal, forcing myself to relax, to appear nonchalant. After a few minutes, we wrapped up lunch, and I ushered her out of the office and toward the surprise I'd prepared for her.

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"So, you still won't tell me what this surprise is?" she asked, her voice laced with playful exasperation. It was probably the tenth time she'd asked since we'd left the office.

"As tempting as it is to give in, I'd rather you see it for yourself. Besides, if I told you beforehand, it would completely defeat the purpose of the surprise," I said, grinning at her pouty expression.

"If you say so, then," she conceded grudgingly, but with a playful twinkle in her eyes.

I chuckled, taking her hand in mine and raising it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The simple gesture never failed to bring a beautiful smile to her face.

The destination was a bit of a drive from her office, so it took us over an hour to get there.

"We've arrived, sir," my driver announced, his voice barely audible.

Eve had fallen asleep in my arms during the drive, her head nestled against my shoulder. I wanted to gently wake her, but when I looked down, her face was serene, her brow unfurrowed, the tension of the day seemingly melting away in her slumber. She looked utterly peaceful, and I couldn't bring myself to disturb her. She also looked tired.

I decided to just let her sleep, figuring she'd eventually wake up on her own. Then we could leave the car and enjoy the surprise I had planned.

Seizing the opportunity presented by her unconsciousness, I discreetly reached into her bag and retrieved her phone. My heart quickened with a mix of anticipation and guilt. But as soon as I held the device in my hand, I realized it was protected by a passcode.

I tried to unlock it using her birthday, but the attempt was unsuccessful. Strike one. I then tried her company's name, a common security measure. Zilch. I only had one more chance before the phone's security protection activated face recognition, and that would be a major problem.

I had to think quickly, to remember any significant dates or phrases she might use.

26 February 2035. The date flashed into my mind, the day we first met. With a silent prayer, I entered the sequence into the keypad, and alas, the phone unlocked.

I chuckled softly to myself, a mixture of relief and amusement bubbling inside me. I couldn't believe she'd used the date we first met as her phone's passcode. It was both cheesy and incredibly endearing.

I hurriedly went to her call log and scanned through the recent calls. An unsaved number stood out, the only number that had called her in the last few hours. I copied the number into my phone and dialed it, but the call wouldn't connect.

Frustrated, I quickly made a call to my chief of security, a man known for his discretion and efficiency.

"I'm sending you a phone number," I said, keeping my voice low and measured. "I might be wrong, but I suspect it's a burner number. Trace the last location of the number and get back to me as soon as possible."

"Right away, sir," he said, his tone professional and efficient, and hung up.

I looked down at the sleeping beauty in my arms, gently caressing her soft, luxurious hair, my heart overflowing with love and a fierce protectiveness. Then, reluctantly, I turned my attention back to her phone. I was about to power it off when my finger accidentally brushed against the recorder icon, revealing that a call had been recorded around the same time the unknown number had contacted her.

A part of me urged me to leave it alone, to not listen to the audio, fearing what I might hear. Why create problems and worry over things that could potentially be nothing? But another, stronger voice insisted that I listen, that I needed to know the truth, whatever it might be. What's the worst that can happen, anyway? it whispered seductively. So, steeling myself, I clicked on the recording, lowering the volume so as not to disturb Eve's peaceful sleep.

As soon as I heard the voice of the person on the other end of the line, a surge of white-hot rage coursed through my veins. My muscles tensed, my jaw clenched, and I could feel my blood pressure rising.

Frederick, I mumbled through gritted teeth, the name a curse on my lips.

After listening to the disturbing, rambling gibberish he was spewing, I came to the chilling conclusion that he might be, in fact, completely unhinged. And just then, the horrifying dream I'd had the previous night resurfaced, sending a cascade of cold shivers down my spine. The image of Eve lying lifeless on the floor in a wedding dress, her white gown soaked crimson with blood, flashed before my eyes.

It's just a dream, I tried to reassure myself, clinging to the idea that it was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, a product of stress and anxiety. But the more I thought about it, the more fear crept into my heart, a relentless tide of dread washing over me as I looked down at Eve, her face still and serene.

Just then, my phone rang, snapping me back to reality. It was my chief of security.

"Yes?" I answered curtly, my voice tight with barely suppressed emotion.

"You're right, sir. It was indeed a burner number. But we were able to trace its location to a public call booth in the state capital," he said.

"So, you couldn't trace who made the call?" I asked impatiently, the frustration evident in my voice.

"We were able to, sir. I hacked into the CCTV system in the area and was able to get a recording of who might have used the booth. I've already sent you the footage, maybe you might recognize someone who went in there today," he said. True to his word, an email notification popped up on my phone, a video attachment ready to be downloaded.

"Alright then, be on standby. I'll call again if needed," I said, and ended the call.

I clicked on the video footage and watched it patiently, scanning the parade of people who went in and out of the booth until I finally spotted a familiar figure. It was Frederick. There was no mistaking his smug, self-satisfied smirk as he made the call.

So, he did call Eve, I said inwardly, my chest tightening with anger and a sense of violation. Not that I didn't trust the audio recording, but seeing it with my own eyes, seeing him in the flesh, made it all the more real, all the more infuriating.

Without hesitation, I called my chief of security back. "I need you to track down Frederick, get his current location, and maintain twenty-four-hour surveillance on him. I want to know where he is at all times," I instructed, my voice hard and unwavering.

"Alright, sir," he replied immediately, his tone indicating that he understood the gravity of the situation.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Yes. I need your best men to guard Eve, wherever she goes. I want them with her at all times. Send them to my house tomorrow morning, and get me a gun, understood?" I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.

"Very clear, sir," he replied.

"Good," and with that, I ended the call.

I sighed deeply, running a hand through my hair. A wave of weariness washed over me, but I knew I couldn't afford to relax, not even for a moment. I reclined in the car seat, resting my head against the headrest, trying to clear my mind.

I felt a growing sense of unease, a knot of dread tightening in the pit of my stomach, as though I were waiting for something bad to happen, but I quickly shook off the feeling, dismissing it as paranoia fueled by the dream and Frederick's unsettling phone call.

I'd rather die protecting you than watch anything bad happen to you, I muttered inwardly, my gaze fixed on Eve's sleeping face. Then, closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep, determined to stay vigilant, to protect her at all costs.