"Good evening, Miss Moreno."
The voice hit her like an echo she never wanted to hear again.
Naiara froze on the threshold of her father's study, her hand still on the doorknob.
In front of her, the man introduced as her new bodyguard stood perfectly still.
Dark suit fitted to his body, posture straight, face carved by shadows. And those eyes, grey-green, storm-colored.
Her breath caught. For a heartbeat she thought she was dreaming, but she knew she wasn't.
It was him. The man from the blackout. The one who had called her Tigna. But now something was different.
His gaze wasn't rough and warm like that night, it was cold, controlled, military.
A gaze that offered nothing.
Words refused to come.
Her throat tightened, her heartbeat pounding so loud it almost hurt.
Leo, because yes, that name fit him too perfectly, turned to Miguel with a brief nod.
"Don't worry, sir. I won't leave her side for a second. Your daughter is safe with me."
Safe.
The word echoed in her chest. Safe from what? From you? she wanted to ask.
But she didn't.
Her father patted her shoulder, pleased.
"You heard him, Naiara? You couldn't be in better hands."
She forced a smile. "Yes, Dad. I can see that."
Then she turned abruptly. "I'm going to bed. It's been a long day."
She left before anyone could see the tremor running through her. Up the stairs, one step after another, feeling his gaze behind her like heat. When she reached her room, she closed the door and leaned against it.
Silence.
And then… Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Stopping right outside her room.
"Oh, come on," she muttered under her breath. She yanked the door open.
He was there. Standing by the wall, hands clasped in front of him, eyes fixed straight ahead. The lamp above drew sharp shadows over his face, tracing his cheekbones and the line of his jaw.
"You don't need to stand guard out here," she said, crossing her arms. "Go to sleep."
He didn't move. Didn't even blink.
The silence thickened until it felt solid.
Anger rose inside her, tangled with something she didn't want to name.
"You're him, aren't you?" she hissed. "The one who calls me Tigna?"
He turned only his eyes toward her.
"Miss Moreno, this is the first time we've met."
Cold. Perfect. Professional to the bone.
Color rushed to her cheeks. She clenched her jaw and slammed the door.
Falling onto the bed, she muttered nonsense to herself. She wanted to laugh and cry all at once.
It's him. It has to be. But why is he lying?
She stayed awake for a while, her thoughts running too fast to catch, until sleep finally dragged her under.
Morning light filtered weakly through the curtains.
Naiara stretched, dazed from the dream she'd just had, a grey sea, a voice calling her name, rain against her skin.
She showered, slipped into a violet dress that hugged her curves, simple but elegant.
The color deepened her bronze skin; her dark hair, tied loosely, framed her face.
She looked at her reflection and sighed. "Good morning, disaster."
Opening the door, she found the corridor empty. No guard. No footsteps. No Leo.
A smirk curved her lips. "So he does sleep. He's human, after all."
She tiptoed downstairs, careful not to make a sound. At the main door, just as she reached for the handle, "Miss Moreno, I'll accompany you."
She turned sharply.
He was there, perfectly composed, as if he'd been awake all night.
"I'm walking," she said, exhaling in defeat. "I like to walk. Try to keep up."
He only nodded, expression unreadable. And yet that single gesture was enough to feed her suspicion.
It was him. She was sure of it.
They walked along the coastal road. The air smelled of coffee and salt, fishermen shouting in the distance. She felt his presence behind her, steady, constant, an invisible line between them.
At the café, she sat down at an outdoor table.
He stayed standing beside her, watchful, silent.
Clara arrived a few minutes later, all energy and brightness.
The moment she saw him, she leaned in to hug Naiara and whispered, "And who's the walking Greek statue?"
Naiara rolled her eyes.
"Bodyguard. A gift from my father."
Clara grinned. "And you're complaining?!"
She'd said it too loudly. Hand over her mouth, she started laughing.
Leo didn't react. Not a flicker. A wall of discipline.
"You don't eat or drink?" Naiara asked him.
No answer. Only the smallest movement, barely there.
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Is he mute or just programmed to ignore you?"
"Both, I think," Naiara murmured.
They laughed, but deep down Naiara couldn't shake the electricity humming under her skin.
The day at the gallery flew by in flashes of color and light.
Leo never left her side, but barely spoke.
Sometimes their eyes met, briefly, and in those seconds, entire conversations passed between them.
By sunset, they walked back home again, side by side. The sky darkened; the first drops of rain began to fall.
She quickened her pace, but he didn't.
He walked behind her with measured steps, always precise, always near.
Whenever a car came too close, one look from him was enough to make it slow down.
The villa greeted them with silence. Only the rain filled the air.
Naiara went straight to the kitchen to pour herself some water. She turned on a soft light, grabbed a glass.
A sudden thunderclap made her flinch.
The glass slipped from her hand, shattering across the floor. Before she could even move, a hand gripped her wrist.
"Careful," said a voice behind her.
Leo. Too close.
Her breath caught.
His skin against hers was heat and restraint all at once. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could feel it.
"Let me go," she whispered.
But it wasn't anger, it was confusion, and something dangerously close to desire.
He released her instantly, stepping back like a soldier retreating from enemy fire.
Yet his gaze didn't leave her.
She turned slowly, eyes wide.
"Why do you keep denying it?" she whispered.
"I know it's you. The one who called me Tigna."
Leo stayed still. Expression unreadable, but his throat moved, he was holding his breath.
"You're mistaken, Miss Moreno."
Cold words. But the voice betrayed a fracture.
She took a step closer.
"Then why are you trembling?"
His jaw tightened; he looked away.
"My duty is to protect you. Nothing else."
"Protect me from what?"
Her tone was soft, almost fragile, but heavy with anger and fear.
He didn't answer.
A flash of lightning lit the room, their faces caught for an instant, two storms colliding.
Then he turned and walked out, the door closing gently behind him.
Naiara stood still, trembling. A shiver ran down her spine.
She didn't know if it was fear… or the ache of losing his touch.
Drawn by instinct, she went to the window.
Outside, under the rain, he was still there, standing motionless in the garden, shirt soaked, eyes fixed on the house. And for the first time, she didn't know whether to feel safe… or captive.