Jude Bellingham

The heavy, quiet stillness of the upper hallway was shattered only by the faint, muffled hum of the evening storm outside the estate windows. The polished hardwood floors reflected the dim wall sconces, casting long shadows down the corridor that led straight toward the main balcony exit. You weren't supposed to get caught. You had planned everything down to the minute—the outfit, the late-night timing, the quiet slide of your bedroom door—expecting the private residence to be completely asleep.

Except your newly hired security detail didn't sleep.

Before you could even take three steps past your threshold, a broad, towering silhouette stepped directly into your path, effortlessly cutting off the hallway. Jude leaned his heavy frame against the wooden doorframe, occupying the space with agonizing ease.

His thick, muscular arms were crossed tightly over his chest, stretching the dark fabric of his fitted shirt. His dark brown eyes dropped down to take in your appearance, tracking every detail with a slow, calculating intensity that made the air in the corridor feel instantly suffocating.

"It's a no for you. You're not allowed to party tonight," Jude said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that cut straight through the quiet air with effortless authority. He didn't move an inch, his broad shoulders completely blocking your path as he tilted his head down toward you. "Now, go back to your room or else..." he murmured, the stern, commanding edge in his tone leaving zero room for negotiation. "I'd hate to have to carry you back in there myself."