Iron Heart - Paperback

Victoria

When my new bodyguard joins my team, I immediately want to fire him.

He's controlled, dominating, and consistently defies my authority when he should be following my lead.

Despite being a survivor and a singing sensation, I should be on top of the world. However, my world feels like it's shrinking around me, threatening to derail everything I've ever worked for.

But then, one night, I break free and shadow my bodyguard to a secretive kink club, discovering the real man beneath the surface, and I'm captivated.

The problem is, I've made a promise to him that I'd be a good girl. That's a promise I'm not sure I can keep.

Kingsley

My fall from grace was spectacular.
A decorated officer in the special forces now reduced to a bodyguard to a bratty pop star.
She's a constant thorn in my side, questioning every decision and provoking my frustration.
Every day, the urge to quit tugs at me, but the alternative is an abyss I can't ignore.

As we dive into an unexpected arrangement, I'm determined to keep the boundaries in tact.

But each day with her, something unexpected unravels within me.

The shadows of my past cast a blinding light, and I question if we're each other's salvation or destined to burn to ashes.

T-minus three hours until I’m on a plane to Australia. My New York apartment, with its
panoramic views of the city, offers a solitude that is both comforting and imposing.
Everything here is controlled, precise, just like I like it.


Lola, my submissive for the evening, kneels before me. Her eyes are lowered, and she is
still, waiting for a command, a sign of what I want from her. But I’m already distancing
myself, my mind shifting to the responsibilities that await me overseas.


“Is there anything else you require, Master?” she asks, breaking the silence, her voice soft
and respectful.


I consider her question, my mind already cataloging the tasks that need to be accomplished
before my departure—meetings to schedule, reports to review, a whole world of control that
never stops demanding.


“No,” I reply, my voice measured and unemotional as ever. “You’ve done well.”
She bows her head. “Thank you, Master.”


I rise, moving to the window. The city stretches out before me, a chaotic dance of lights and
shadows, full of life and yet somehow empty.


Like me.


Lola doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She’s been well-trained, understanding the boundaries
and the rules, just like all the others from the agency I use.
Time is slipping away, and I can’t afford to linger. There are people relying on me, and I
won’t let them down. My life is a carefully constructed machine, and I’m the one holding the
controls.


“I’ll make arrangements for your transportation home,” I tell her, my back still to her.
Her acknowledgment is a soft, “Yes, Master.”
I head to my study, checking my email and reviewing my itinerary. Everything is in order,
meticulously planned and executed. Just like always.

Back in the living room, Lola has not moved. A pang of something unexpected hits me when
I look at her. A fleeting connection? No, that’s impossible. I don’t allow connections.
“You may leave,” I tell her, and she rises, her movements graceful and controlled.
“Safe travels, Master,” she says, and there’s a longing in her voice I refuse to acknowledge.
The car is waiting when I leave the apartment, and I sink into the back seat, allowing the
familiar streets of New York to pass me by in a blur.


With practiced efficiency, I arrive at the airport, moving through security, and board the
plane. Settling into my seat, I pull out my laptop, already focused on the work that awaits me.
The plane takes off, the city falling away beneath me, and I feel a strange sense of loss. Not
for Lola, not for the fleeting pleasure she provided, but for something deeper, something I
can’t quite identify.


But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by the cool, calculating focus that has become my
shield.
Control, precision, detachment.
Principles I have lived by ever since leaving school and joining the 75th Ranger Regiment in
the US Army.
As the plane cruises toward Australia, I immerse myself in my work, my world reduced to
protecting a pop star.


I shake my head at what my life has been reduced to.
One year ago, Kingsley Williams, three times Silver Star recipient for gallantry fighting our
enemy and risking one’s own life in the call of duty.
Six months ago, I was honorably discharged.

“Mr. Williams?” a voice pulls me from my self-loathing. “Can I offer you a drink, sir?” the flight
attendant smiles flirtatiously, and I forget I’m in first-class on someone else’s dime.
“Whiskey, make it a double.”
“Of course, sir,” she says, staring at me like a love-sick puppy.
The sincerity in her look drags me back to the past. Carter, bleeding out, and his final words,
“Tell my wife I love her.” Three medals don’t make up for the massacre on my team.
Fucking chunks of metal will never bring back my best friend or the other five men in my unit
I lost that day. Anger builds inside me like a raging tornado.

I’m relieved when the attendant returns quickly, and I take the drink from her, downing it in
one sitting. I meet her patronizing gaze head-on and hand her the empty glass. “One more,
please,” I request, and she grins and hurries away.
Another twenty-two hours until I touch down in Sydney. Plenty of time to get drunk, then
sober up before my meeting.

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