One man with courage makes a majority.

Andrew Jackson

JENNIE

The next week, I'm happy to find an invitation to Wilton's senior networking cocktail party sitting in my email inbox. The school hosted event is an opportunity for graduating seniors majoring in the sciences to meet the who's who of the medical field.

It's exclusive to the seniors graduating magna or suma cum laude. As a junior, I shouldn't even be getting an invitation. Lisa is probably behind it, and I find the gesture surprisingly sweet.

It's custom to take a date, so when I ask her if she'll go with me, I'm glad Lisa agrees. I'm tempted to ask her how she got me an invitation, but if something illegal is involved, I'd rather not know. Because this, an invitation to the hottest networking event on campus, is too big to turn down.

On the day of the party, I dress in the jeweled burgundy dress Jimin made me, the first dress I tried on when he came over last week. I'm feeling confident when I step out of the bathroom, done with my light makeup.

Lisa is exiting the closet with her head down, but she looks up when she hears me. I stand still as she takes me in, her eyes traveling from my heeled feet to my hair, which is pulled up into an elegant French twist.

"You look stunning," she says, the compliment sounding foreign on her lips but still genuine.

At her approval, I force myself not to make a fool of myself. I still manage to blush, which causes her to shake her head and smile. She walks back into the closet, and when she comes out, she's wearing a tie the same color as my dress. It goes well with her all black suit and white button down.

I'm surprised when she hands me her cuff links and lifts a questioning brow, the blackness of lust still lurking within the depths of her eyes. I've seen Lisa put on cuff links herself at least a dozen times. She doesn't need my help.

I know this, but I help her anyway. When I take the cuff links from her palms and slip one into the cuff of her sleeve, my fingers brush lightly against her skin, and I immediately know why she asked for my help.

She was giving me an excuse to touch her.

When we get to the event, I'm surprised to see Krystal there on the arm of a much older man. She scowls at me, but she wisely keeps her distance. I see her sending a worried glance Lisa's way and wonder if Krystal's date is one of the poor saps she's trying to gold dig from.

After we check in, Lisa and I mingle around. She introduces me to a lot of people, and I'm stunned to see how well she knows all these powerful players in my field. These are influential people, all of whom seem to respect Lisa. Despite her youth, she stands more self-assured than anyone else here.

I'm proud to be on her arm.

I'm also grateful for the way she's careful to keep me engaged in these conversations, not as an accessory but rather a partner. She treats me like her equal, and in response, everyone we've talked to gives me the same respect.

I'm ecstatic from all of the connections I've made by the time I head to the bar for a water with Mino following a few feet behind me. I frown when I see Krystal's date there. He's leaning against the bar when his eyes scan his surroundings.

There are two drinks in front of him. He pops something—a pill, maybe?—into one of the drinks and stirs it with his finger. I stumble a little when I see where he's headed, both drinks in hand. My eyes follow his path as he takes the drinks to a table a few feet away, where he hands the spiked drink to Krystal.

I hate Krystal. She treats me poorly, has a superiority complex, and has been hell bent on making my life miserable since I met her. But she also doesn't deserve to be drugged and who knows what else. There isn't even a doubt in my mind that I have to do something about this. And quickly.

I turn towards Mino and tell him what I saw. He leads me back to Lisa before he takes off with an event security guard in tow. They're headed in Krystal's direction, so I turn away. She's in capable hands. I know she'll be safe now. I don't owe her anything else.

"Can we leave now?" I ask Lisa, unsure of how Krystal will react.

If there's a scene and she's humiliated, I know she'll blame me. I hope it doesn't happen, but I don't want to be here in the off chance that it does. That's just asking for trouble, which I definitely don't need in front of people that can potentially be my future bosses.

Lisa nods. We say our goodbyes to a few people before we head out, her guard following closely behind. Mino stays behind at the event to deal with Krystal's date, so only the three of us head out the front door of the building.

It's a short walk back to the penthouse, so I ask Lisa if we can walk before she calls her driver to pick us up. We make our way down the sidewalk adjacent to Sproul Hall, where my statistics class is held. Lisa and I are holding hands, probably to keep up appearances, but I don't mind it. I also don't mind that Lisa's guard is trailing behind us from a comfortable distance.

The sidewalk is on a busy street, close to a crowded intersection. I mindlessly look at the hectic street, watching the congestion of cars slowly passing by in traffic. There are bicyclists and motorcyclists swerving in and out of the traffic, bypassing the gridlocked cars.

I smile when I see a funny duo on a matte black Ducati. There are two men on the bike, but they're so ripped they can barely fit together on the seat. I'm trying not to laugh, but a little chuckle slips through.

Lisa hears it and follows my line of sight. I frown, reacting to her narrowed eyes. I look back at the duo, trying to see what she's seeing in those calculated eyes of her, when I spot it, danger and death wrapped in a sleek package.

A gun.

The one in the back locks her eyes on me and reaches for the weapon. Lisa and I react at the same time, and all Hell breaks loose. She tries to pull me behind her, but I'm already moving at the same time. When the bullet pierces through the air, I accidentally push her into its trajectory.

It hits her square in the chest.

Meanwhile, I'm safely crouched on the ground, shielded by her falling body. The world moves in slow motion as I watch her fall. No way she survived that, I think, but I'm proven wrong when she reaches behind her back with both hands.

She pulls out a gun in each hand and shoots. Two shots ring out simultaneously, moving in the direction of the motorcyclists that are zipping away. A bullet hits each of their moving forms at the same time Lisa finally falls and lands.

On me.

I push her off of me gently, careful not to touch the guns nor her chest. My eyes are wide as I search her torso with my eyes and fingers for a bullet hole. I see a circular gap in the middle of her button down, but there's no blood seeping into the shirt.

I press down on the area anyway, because it's the only thing I know to do—put pressure on the wound.

"Fuck, Jennie!" Lisa cringes away from the firm pressure of my hands. "Stop! Babe, stop."

My mind doesn't even register that she called me "babe."

I gape at her as she gently pries my fingers away and rubs at her chest. Lisa tears the ruined fabric of her button down a little and sticks her finger in, pulling out the bullet. My eyes widen when I see that her undershirt doesn't even have a mark on it.

But I'm so relieved she's alive, I don't think as I crawl into her lap and hug her. There may be tears streaming down my face, but I'm too prideful to admit it. I pull back, look at the place on Lisa's chest where she was shot, and hug her again.

And then I lean back and slap her.

She catches my wrist when I move to do it again. "Hey! What was that for?" She's frowning at me, a look of sheer bewilderment in her brown eyes.

"Are you wearing a bulletproof vest?!" I gesture to my cocktail dress. "What about me? What if that bullet had hit me?"

I move to slap her again with my free hand, but she takes both of my wrists and uses them to pull me back against her. I'm still straddling her waist, pressed into her body, so I can't see her face. She's shaking, which causes me to frown.

Wary, I wrap my arms tightly around her. I don't want her to cry. Is she thinking about what would happen if I was the one that got hit? It's unexpected but not unwelcome to learn I mean so much to her.

Then, I realize she's not crying.

She's laughing.

It's a deep rumble, and in between breaths, she says, "What you're wearing is bulletproof." Her laughter subsides, but she's still holding onto me. "It's sewed into the corset and skirt of your dress. It's the same fabric the lining of my suit and button down are made of." And then she laughs again. "And you wouldn't have gotten shot either way. I was moving to shield you when you went all Inspector Clouseau on me and knocked me over."

I feel a shadow over us and turn to find Mino, who's now hovering above us. He has a quizzical eyebrow cocked at our position. I'm still on Lisa's lap, and we're still hugging each other.

I try to move, but she tightens her hold on me. I can't help but let her, allowing her presence to calm me. To make me feel safe again, because at this point, no one else but her can.

It all makes sense now.

Lisa has been protecting me from the start. She didn't let me out of the penthouse until Jimin was done with my clothes. My bulletproof clothes. It wasn't because I wasn't dressed nicely. It was because I wasn't dressed safely.

I swoon a little.

She wants me safe.

She jumped in front of a bullet for me.

How can I not be affected by that?

I'm only human.

I know it's intimate, but I'm interested to know. It's a burning curiosity and the remaining adrenaline rush that gives me the nerve to run my hands down Lisa's chest. I examine her suit thoroughly, feeling the smooth fabric beneath my fingers. I think it's identical to the fabric of the slip lining my dress.

"How is this possible?" I ask.

"We manufacture bulletproof fabric at one of our R D labs. I give some swatches to Jimin to make our clothes."

"Wow. I didn't know that bulletproof clothes exist."

"It's been out for at least a decade now. President Obama wore a bulletproof suit to his first inauguration in 2009."

I don't reply. I'm still in her arms, hugging her. I'm trying to remain as invisible as possible, because I'm not ready for her to let go. Getting shot at is surreal, and I'm still unsettled. Lisa rubs my arms, fighting away the goosebumps caused by fear and replacing them with goosebumps caused by our proximity.

"What do you have?" Lisa asks Mino.

Meanwhile, I'm still clinging to her like a koala bear.

"The two perps have been tied up."

I look past Lisa and see the two guys on the ground, tied together. There's a bit of blood on the sidewalk beside them, and one of them is slouched dangerously low. Lisa's personal bodyguard is hovering above them, leaning against their bike, which has been pulled onto the sidewalk opposite of ours.

"What do you know about them?" Lisa's arms are still around my waist.

I inch even closer, resting my chin on her shoulder, and she tightens her grip. I don't know if she knows she's doing this, because this position, sitting on her lap, feels so natural. Too natural.

"They have no IDs on them. I don't think they're mafia." Mino's voice sounds concerned. "Maybe corporate?"

I want to scoff, because really? What corporation hires a hit on someone?

"Do you know which one of us they were after?"

I pull back at that. "You think they might be after me?"

Who would want to hurt me?

I'm a nobody.

"We can't rule anything out." Lisa's voice is firm but gentle, yet I still tense at her words. "I won't let anything happen to you."

I'm taken aback when she kisses my forehead. There are sirens in the distance, coming closer and closer, but I remain seated in her lap. Tense. Because if they consider me as a target, they may look into my past.

Into Steve.