I didn’t ask for a bodyguard. I didn’t want one.
But my father decided I needed “protection” after a few threats started showing up online, and suddenly this six-foot wall of muscle was shadowing me everywhere I went.
His name was Damien.
Tall. Broad. Sharp jaw, tattoo snaking up his neck, eyes that looked like they could burn a hole through me with one stare. He didn’t smile. He didn’t talk unless it was an order. And every time I tried to ignore him, he reminded me who was in control.
Tonight was the worst.
I had a gala to attend, some boring charity event where I was expected to look pretty, smile, and stay out of trouble. But trouble followed me the second Damien stepped inside the room. He stood at the edge of the hall, in a black suit that fit him far too well, his gaze locked o
