Chapter Text
Annabeth Chase had been trained to hold still under any circumstance. Whether it was a camera flashing continuously in her face, structured diamond necklaces digging into her collarbone, or six-inch stilettos threatening to snap her ankle in front of hundreds of people — composure was the job. No questions asked. She’d walked enough runways to know the expectations that were placed on her shoulders.
Journalists kept vying for her attention, or for answers to multiple questions, ones that tended to be annoying.Why weren’t they more interested in her aspirations in architecture? Or the brand that she wanted to spend more time on presently? Instead, there was endless chatter about her personal affairs. There was far more to this woman than which designer she preferred to work with, or had such-and-such actor stolen her heart.
At the center of the Metropolis Hotel ballroom, surrounded by desperate paparazzi and the staccato rhythm of camera shutters, her composure was dangerously thin. This was a situation that she usually didn’t have to manage, since Annabeth prided herself on being a confident woman, capable of living on her own, authentic terms.
It wasn’t because of their ongoing inquiries, or the slinky, silver gown that clung to her body, like liquid metal, that made her feel out of sorts. That was certainly not part of the equation. Certainly not because of the jealous, laughable glares from other models since the designer singled her out as the star of the evening. What else was new? Annabeth let that roll off her back, as she silently counted her breaths. Working a crowd was one of her strong suits; she could do this.
The envelope she discovered earlier was the reason for her anxiety. Despite the heavy security, someone had left it on her mirrored dressing table, in the room backstage. A not so casual note was inside; the message was burned into her brain.
On the top of the page were neat, chilling block letters:
I SEE YOU.
Her manager had intercepted it, of course, but Annabeth had seen the words before it disappeared into an evidence folder. A detective with the NYPD had the other notes; there was obviously an open investigation. The room had been sealed off, in order to search for fingerprints or any other evidence.
No one expected a crime scene at the Metropolis tonight.
Annabeth gave the police all the information necessary, such as the names of old boyfriends and possible ‘enemies.’ Dismissing the situation wasn’t an option. So far, though, there wasn’t enough evidence to move forward with a warrant for questioning.
Threats didn’t make Annabeth flinch — she’d built her entire career on walking through storms in one of a kind patent heels. But even she had to admit: this one was starting to get under her skin. Events such as these, with an eclectic gathering of designers and occasional Hollywood celebrities, made her watch each step. Certainly security was tight; plain clothed officers mingling with guests. Metal detectors were at every opening, along with security ready to search anyone.
The fear caused by the threat loomed in the air. It was only a matter of time before drastic measures had to be taken.
When her agent, Piper McLean, caught her attention on her way backstage, Annabeth already knew what the conversation would be. She’d managed to dodge Piper as long as possible.
“Annabeth, darling, Versace never looked so stunning.” Piper cooed, her oversized diamond bracelets jangling as she tried to steer Annabeth into a quieter corner. The heat of the lights thankfully decreased as they walked. A wave of claustrophobia washed over her, though; small spaces caused discomfort.
After looking directly into her manager’s face, she decided Piper’s red lipstick was too intense for her complexion. While it was the ‘it’ color for the season, the small wrinkles around her mouth were enhanced. Then there was the matter of her loud fragrance. Annabeth always preferred a more subtle, clean scent compared to the industry’s offerings. Most days, they gave her a headache.
“Annabeth, darling, Versace never looked so stunning.” Piper cooed, her oversized diamond bracelets jangling as she tried to steer Annabeth into a quieter corner. The heat of the lights thankfully decreased as they walked. A wave of claustrophobia washed over her, though; small spaces caused discomfort.
After looking directly into her manager’s face, she decided Piper’s red lipstick was too intense for her complexion. While it was the ‘it’ color for the season, the small wrinkles around her mouth were enhanced. Then there was the matter of her loud fragrance. Annabeth always preferred a more subtle, clean scent compared to the industry’s offerings. Most days, they gave her a headache.
“Having a bodyguard is nonnegotiable, given the circumstances,” Piper corrected after a deep breath. Annabeth readjusted her posture; she reveled in the fact that her manager was half a foot shorter. “Besides, he’s highly recommended, very discreet, and served in the Navy. We made the decision this morning, before the newest letter arrived, shall we say, on our doorstep. The decision has been finalized” She moved her hands around erratically. Annabeth wanted to grab them in order to keep the attention away as much as possible.
Instead, Annabeth rolled her stormy gray eyes. Of course she’d had bodyguards before — stiff men in darker suits than the ones around her, always treating her like glass. She hated their intrusive behavior; fragility doesn’t run in her blood. After the life she’d lived, becoming a strong, independent woman was a modus operandi.
“I’ll pass on the offer as politely as possible,” she said, already turning away. There wasn’t time for this shitshow. They could fucking hire a team of guards to watch her every second for all she cared. To hell with the damn contract also. Her modeling career would come to a halt within the next few months.
“Annabeth.” Piper’s voice hardened. “You don’t get a fucking choice this time. He’s already here. I made sure that you couldn’t back out no matter what happened.”
Those words made her pause. Even though she wanted to read the riot act, now wasn’t the time or place. Annabeth turned back, the word he had caught her attention like a tripwire, for some strange reason.
And that’s when she saw him - a sucker punch to the gut. Drawing her eyes away was an impossibility.
“Oh gods, they don’t make men like him anymore,” That was her initial thought, along with a string of obscenities that were best left unspoken. Piper did not need to know about her reaction. Besides, when that woman was determined to accomplish a goal, nothing got in the way of her forward motion.
This man didn’t belong in the glittering crowd. Too broad-shouldered and casual, his suit fitting like he preferred not to have it tailored. Black tie hanging slightly loose at his collar, dark hair refusing to be tamed. Both were waiting for Annabeth to get her hands on them. He leaned against the far wall with the kind of ease that said I’m not impressed by your champagne fountains and glittering chandeliers. Entitled clients wouldn’t be allowed any favors.
His eyes found hers instantly. While she was used to hard gazes lingering on her clothes, or tanned, long legs, instead they locked onto her face, steady and unflinching. Annabeth had the distinct feeling that he would see past her image Those eyes…sea-green and startlingly vivid, even from across the room. They would stop any woman in her tracks.How had she missed them?
Piper smiled, oblivious to the sudden change in the room. “Annabeth, this is Percy Jackson, your new shadow going forward.” In a deeper tone of voice, she was reminded this is for her safety, not for entertainment. She gave her manager a hard, side glance afterwards, one that spoke volumes, as her fingers curled up into her palms.
Percy pushed off the wall in order to cut a path through the crowd, with long, unhurried strides. When he stood in front of this woman, he didn’t offer a hand; just a nod while the corner of his mouth twitched like he was already amused by her. Why must he be that devastatingly handsome? Of all the ex-Navy and highly recommended bodyguards, Annabeth questioned why the agency hired him. The cliched phrase ‘limited edition’ didn’t even begin to cover her estimate of him.
“Miss Chase,” he said. His voice was low, rough around the edges, without carrying any of the fawning sweetness she was used to on a regular basis. The sound was striking, a refreshing change from the others. A diminutive part of her wanted to get used to hearing his voice, yet she dismissed the thought as soon as it arose.
Percy’s gaze flicked once to the chaos at the end of the hall, then back to her. A tipsy model threw her drink on another woman, all hell breaking loose. Annabeth couldn’t help but notice that he paid attention to the background briefly, before catching her eyes once more. “Good,” he said simply. “I don’t babysit.”
That voice, though.
’Damn him’ her mind screamed.
Just like that, she hated him from the top of his head to his toes.
Yet — annoyingly, dangerously — something in her gut told her she was going to hate not hating him even more.
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