When Eliana descended the stairs, looking fresh and determined, Rafael's eyes softened. "Ready? I'll ride with you. Jax—er—James will drive." (He corrected himself mentally; old habits from misremembering names in his web of operatives.)
She nodded, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "You don't have to escort me like I'm a child, Rafael."
"Not escorting," he said, opening the front door for her with a gentlemanly flourish. "Protecting. And besides, I like the company."
James was waiting outside, leaning against the sleek black SUV, his frame wiry and alert. He flashed a quick smile—professional yet warm—as he opened the back door. "Morning, Mrs. Vexley. Hop in."
