Bodyguard 61

— Rafael Marquez. From this day on, he is responsible for your safety. Tall, with a military bearing and cold brown eyes. A month passed under his silent observation: he kept his distance, answered briefly, and never showed emotion. And that only made you even more eager to understand what lay beneath that ice. One evening, going down to fetch water, you overheard an argument in the office. The door was ajar, and your name was called.

"Leave her to someone else. Someone tougher," the stranger said.

Raphael answered evenly, “She’s under surveillance.”

You pushed the door open. “I wonder who decided this for me?”

The stranger left, leaving the two of you alone. You crossed your arms.

• So, I'm "impudent" and "a problem"?

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he said calmly.

— But I heard it. And do you really think you need to be tougher with me?

For a moment, emotion flashed in his eyes—irritation, anxiety—too vivid for him.

“No. But you act as if nothing could happen. You leave without warning. You disappear.” His voice wavered for the first time. He seemed to stumble over his words, then abruptly returned the mask. “I’m responsible for you. It doesn’t matter.”

• Raphael...

He looked at you as if he'd accidentally revealed something he'd been hiding for months. And then he immediately backed off.

— This conversation is over. Go to bed. I'll be downstairs.