It’s been four days since my intimate photos were leaked to the world, and I’m trying very hard to pretend everything is normal. The LadyLux article that was published yesterday helped tremendously, but it doesn’t erase what happened.


    The Halloween costume shop on Main Street is supposed to be my escape from reality today, but I don’t feelfortable in public yet. Random nces feel personal, like people are imagining my naked body from the photos. Craig put our private moments on disy for everyone to see. What he’s done is unforgiveable.


    “Someone said I was trying to be the next Kim K and this scandal was to help meunch an OnlyFans career,” I say, reading thements on the bottom of the post as we walk the few blocks to our destination. Myughes out bitter. “Wait, why did you ask me if I had an OF when we met?”


    “Because you’re gorgeous,” he says.


    I tilt my head at him. “Would you have followed me?”


    “I don’t have an ount, but I’d have made one.” Nick squeezes my hand as we walk through the door. “Let’s have fun.”


    The bell chimes overhead, and Patty, the woman who’s run this costume shop for thirty years, looks up from the register. I used to buy all of mine from her when I was a kid. As soon as she sees me, her face softens into a smile.


    “Julie, baby. Come here.” She rounds the counter and pulls me into a tight hug. “That bastard should rot in hell for what he did to you.”


    “Thanks, Patty.” I sink into her hug for a moment. “Congrats on winning the autumn arrangement contest again.”


    “Aw, appreciate that considering some people in town are jealous.” She smells like cinnamon and mothballs, and the familiarity isforting.


    “It’s very much deserved,” I tell her.


    The shop is busier than usual with Halloween approaching. The aisles are cramped with costume racks, and I have to squeeze past a family debating between zombie and vampire themes. Some customers nce at me with sympathy. It’s mostly locals who know me or my parents. Others stare with a different kind of recognition that makes my skin crawl. They saw me naked.


    One man near the superhero section does a double take, his eyes lighting up. He elbows his friend and whispers something before they pull out their phones.


    “Eyes forward, asshole,” Nick barks out, his voice loud in the quietness.


    The guys scurry toward the exit, but not before one turns to me. “Nice to know the curtains match the drapes.”


    Nick walks over to me, his brows furrowed.


    “You can’t threaten everyone who looks at me,” I whisper, though part of me secretly loves that he tries. While I hate needing protection, I also love how safe it makes me feel.


    “Watch me.”


    Patty appears beside us again. “Anyone else gives you any more trouble, you tell me. I’ve got a baseball bat behind the counter, and I’m not afraid to use it.”


    “That won’t be necessary,” I say. She reminds me of my grandma. “Seriously. They’re dumb teenagers who follow pop culture news. They don’t understand.”


    She walks away, and Nickes closer.


    “We can leave.”


    “I’m good,” I tell him.


    We split up to keep our costumes a surprise from one another. It’s something we decided before we got here. We’ll reveal them to one another on Halloween night.


    Nick heads toward the men’s section while I wander through the women’s racks. I already know what I want based on something he said to me a few weeks ago.


    I find the perfect costume tucked between a witch outfit and a pper dress. The teal-blue fabric is soft with gold trim that catches the light. It’s sexy but not too revealing. Important now that everyone knows what’s underneath.


    “Princess Jasmine is a perfect fit for you. I even have the wig and crown,” Patty says, materializing beside me like she has a sixth sense for customers who need encouragement.


    “You don’t think it’s too revealing, do you?” I meet her eyes.


    “Too what? Honey, you wear whatever makes you feel good. You’re gorgeous. Don’t let that piece-of-shit ex of yours make you believe you need to hide anything. But let me ask you this: would you have worn it before this happened?”


    “Yes,” I tell her.


    “That’s your answer then.” She shifts me toward the dressing room, and I make my way down the aisle. “You’d better try it on because you know I won’t do a return.”


    “Right. All sales final.”


    As I’m heading to the dressing room in the back, I hear raised voices in the front.


    “You need to leave. Now.” Patty’s friendly voice has turned to steel.


    “It’s a free country. I can shop where I want,” a guy says, slurring.


    Day drinking on a Tuesday is so ssy. But then recognition washes over me, and my blood freezes in my veins. For a second, I think it’s Craig, but when I peek around the corner, it’s not.


    “Get out before I call the police,” Patty says.


    “It was posted that she was here! I wanna see if she’s as hot in real life,” he says to his friend, loud enough for the store to hear. “You know, the coffee chick with the great tits.”


    Rage and embarrassment flood through me. Before Nick can react, before I can think better of it, I’m cing the costume on the hook behind the door, and then I march toward them.


    “Leave—right now,” I say. My voice doesn’t even shake. The steadiness surprises me almost as much as it surprises them. For a second, I’m braver than I feel.


    When he recognizes me, the man’s eyes light up with excitement.


    “Holy shit, you really are here! Can I get a selfie? My friends won’t believe I met you,” he says, like he’s a fan.


    “Are you serious right now?” I ask.


    “Come on. You’re hot! Especially for a ginger!” He smirks, his eyes doing a slow scan of my body.


    Nick moves so fast past me that I almost don’t see him. He grabs the younger guys by their shirts and carries them outside.


    “Hey! You can’t do?—”


    One of them drops his phone, and Nick kicks it across the floor.


    “Leave.” His voice is calm, but it’s absolutely terrifying. “Before you regret it.”


    Patty has already taken out her phone and is speaking to dispatch. “Yes, we have two men harassing a customer at The Costume Shop. They were refusing to leave and are standing outside. I want them charged with trespassing.”


    The one who took pictures of me looks at his shattered phone screen, and he’s whining aboutwsuits and assault charges.


    “Sue me,” Nick calls after them. “Please. I’d love to tell a judge what happened, and I’m sure the owner would too.”


    Patty nods with her hands on her hips.


    After they leave, the store feels too quiet. Some customers are pretending not to care, while others’ stares cause pinpricks on my skin. I feel out of ce.


    “I’m so sorry, honey,” Patty says, touching my arm. “If anyone else bothers you, they’re banned for life. I’m not kidding.”


    “Oh, please don’t apologize,” I say, but I’m shaking. My fight-or-flight is kicking in.


    Nick wraps his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my head. “We can leave if you want.”


    “No.” I straighten my spine, channeling every ounce of stubbornness I have left. “I’m not letting creeps chase me out of here. I’m buying a costume, and we’re going to the Halloween party, and I’m going to have fun for the rest of the month, even if it kills me.”


    He grins at me, tucking loose strands behind my ear. “Love it when you’re fierce.”


    We continue shopping, but I’m now hyperaware of everyone. A mom with two kids gives me a sympathetic smile. Every nce feels loaded with something more, either judgment or pity. I hate this.


    I nce down at my phone, realizing those little bastards posted the picture of me somehow. Thements under it are disgusting.


    “Stop reading them,” Nick singsongs as he hides his costume behind his back so I can’t see it. “Now, go give her your costume and let her bag it up, and then I’lle pay.”


    Iugh, enjoying how seriously he’s taking keeping it secret.


    We make our purchases, and Patty refuses to let Nick pay full price. Then she leads us through the back entrance to avoid the lurkers who have gathered out front. A teenage girl watches us with wide eyes, and a fewdies from the book club give us nods of approval.


    “Youe back anytime,” she says as we stroll hand in hand down the alleyway. “This is your town, not theirs.”


    I look over at Nick. “Then why am I the one in a back alley?”


    Nick wraps his arm around me. “I can’t help but think this is somehow my fault.”


    “It’s not,” I exin. “Craig would’ve done this to me, no matter who I’d moved on with. He was waiting to pounce, to use his final fuck you and humiliate me. He’s the type of man who doesn’t take no for an answer. I think you’re his karma though.”


    “The thought of that makes me smile,” he says.


    When we’re back at my condo, my phone rings, and it’s ire. The picture for her contact is a selfie of us fromst fall. We wereughing at something, but I can’t remember what.


    “Hey, Jules. Just wanted to check in. How’s costume shopping?”


    “We survived. Nick lifted two dudes by their shirts and threw them outside.”


    “Good! I’m sure they deserved it. Listen, I did aplete protection ritual at your ce earlier. Sage, crystals, and even buried some ck tourmaline by your door. You got the full witchy works.”


    Despite everything, I smile. “Thanks, ire.”


    “Also—and don’t freak out—there’s something you should know.”


    My stomach drops to my feet. “What now?”


    “Craig’s mom called the coffee shop, looking for you. She says she hasn’t heard from him in three days. She sounded worried.”


    “That’s concerning.”


    “Yeah. She said it’s notmon for him to do this. Even when he’s being a shit, he checks in with her. Just stay alert, okay? The cards this morning were weird. The Tower kepting up.”


    I clear my throat. “I don’t have the energy for tarot foreshadowing right now, ire. Call me when The Lovers arrives.”


    The Tower. It means destruction, upheaval, chaos.


    Iugh it off, but unease sits in my stomach like a ten-pound weight. What if the thing falling apart is me?


    “You’re right,” she says. “Just use your karate moves if you need to, okay, Red Menace?”


    “You know I will.”


    After I hang up, I plop down on the couch.


    Nick joins me. “We need to talk about something.”


    “If this is more bad news?—”


    “It’s not. You now have a bodyguard.”


    I stare at him. “What?”


    “Don’t worry; he’s subtle, but he’s watching when I can’t. Professional guy, former military, and only temporary until November first.”


    “Nick, that’s?—”


    “Necessary. His name is Brody. He’s a dick, doesn’t say much, but he’s also marrying Zane’s little sister and volunteered. He’s the best in the business, and you don’t tell him no. I’m sorry. I didn’t hire him. He’s going to do it whether I want him to or not.”


    “Okay,” I say, and he sits down next to me.


    Nick leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Brody’s already watching the perimeter. You probably won’t see him, but he’ll see you. That’s how he works.”


    I blink. “Wait, he’s here? Like … right now?”


    Nick’s mouth tips into a half-grin. “I bet he’s parked down the street in some unmarked truck, eating jerky and scaring kids in costumes.”


    Despite myself, Iugh. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”


    “Yes,” he says. Then his expression softens. “Look, I know it’s invasive, but Brody cares about protecting your life. He said that he owed it to my sister to make sure we were okay. I can’t refuse that.”


    I tuck my legs under me on the couch, hugging a pillow. “I’m just not used to this. I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and suddenly, I need a bodyguard to watch me.”


    Nick slides closer, prying the pillow from my arms and recing it with his chest. “Just for a little while longer, I promise.”


    For the first time all day, I somewhat rx. I want to argue, to roll my eyes, but a part of me exhales at the thought of someone else watching the shadows when I can’t. With Nick’s arms around me and Brody keeping watch, the panic moves to a simmer instead of a rolling boil.


    “Everything will be okay,” I say, closing my eyes, wanting to believe it.


    Nick doesn’t move right away. His chin rests on the top of my head, his hand tracing idle circles down my arm like he’s trying to draw calm into me. For a while, I let myself just sit there, eyes closed, pretending the world outside this couch doesn’t exist.


    It hardly works.


    I can still feel the stares in the costume shop and how those men looked at me like I was public property. My body shivers before I can stop it.


    Nick notices. “Cold?”


    “Haunted,” I admit, pulling back enough to look at him. “Faces andments are burned into my mind. I can’t quite shake it.”


    His jaw tightens. “Then we burn new ones in there. Better ones.”


    I raise an eyebrow. “Examples?”


    “The Fairy Godmothers caring enough to bring you casseroles galore. Or how ire adores you so much she’s hexing Craig at this very moment. Or maybe you should think about how my face lights up every time you walk into a room.”


    “Thest one’s the best.”


    “Good,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s just for you.”


    The tension in my chest eases a little more. He doesn’t minimize how I feel, but he doesn’t let me drown in it either.


    “I don’t know how you do that,” I whisper.


    “What?”


    “Make me feel like I’m not an embarrassment.”


    He cups my cheek, thumb brushing along my skin. His gaze is unwavering and fierce. “You’re not. You’re just a little bruised, pissed, and exhausted. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be all of those things.”


    “I am. I’m being sexualized. I hate it.” Something inside me cracks, and I tuck myself into him, pressing my face against his chest.


    “I hate it too.” His voice drops to a low roughness. It vibrates against my skin. His eyes sweep down my body, sharp and unyielding. “I don’t want anyone looking at you, sweetheart. Not like that. Not ever.” His jaw tightens.


    With a certainty that makes my pulse skip, he adds, “You’re mine.”


    The words should scare me, but they don’t. They ground me. They burn away the shame and rece it with something hotter. Because when Nick says I’m his, it’s not possession; it’s protection.


    My breath catches. My body melts into him.


    “Say it again,” I whisper.


    His mouth hovers by my ear, his hand gripping my hip like he’s already branded me. “Mine.”


    Heat pools low in my stomach. I move closer, my thighs brushing his, my body alive with want.


    “Does that please you?” he asks.


    “Yes, very much,” I admit. The confession releases before I can stop it.


    His growl rumbles through me, his fingers tightening until I’m pinned to him. “Good. Because it’s the truth, Little Red. You. Are. Mine.” Each word is punctuated with his hips grinding forward, the hard ridge of him pressing against me.


    I gasp, clutching his shirt, my body sparking everywhere we connect. My thighs part instinctively, and he takes advantage, shifting me against him until I’m straddling his thigh. The friction of his thick cock is right where I need it most.


    “Nick,” I breathe, my voice breaking as he rocks me harder against him. My panties are already damp, sliding against denim, and every move makes me ache more.


    He grabs my ass, dragging me over him like he can’t stand the thought of space between us. “Feel that, sweetheart? That pussy’s mine too. So is every sound you make. Every gasp. Every fucking shiver. All mine.”


    I moan into his mouth when he kisses me, my hips grinding helplessly against him. The friction is brutal, delicious, and the orgasm builds fast. My body tenses, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing holding me together.


    His teeth graze my lip. His breath is hot against me. “Come for me. Right here. Ruin those panties for me.”


    Themand tears through me, my body obeying before my brain catches up. I break apart against him, muffling my cry in his shoulder as heat floods me, soaking through the thin fabric. He holds me tight, grinding me through the final pulses, rocking me until Ie down from my high.


    I copse against his chest, my breath ragged. His fingersb through my hair as his lips brush my temple, so soft that it undoes me all over again.


    “That’s how I want you to forget him, Jules,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “Not by erasing what he did. By making new memories. This”—his hand squeezes my hip possessively—“will be one of my favorites.”


    A shakyugh slips out of me, half breathless, half disbelieving, while I try to recover from the aftershocks of that mind-blowing orgasm. “I don’t deserve you.”


    His smile curves against my skin before he kisses me. “I think that’s my line.”