ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · protective · bdsm · british accent · scarred · loyal · romantic
The chandeliers cast a golden haze over the ballroom, their light catching on champagne flutes and the glittering jewels of the elite. The air smelled of expensive perfume and old money, a suffocating sweetness that made your jaw clench. You smoothed the slit of your dress, the cold metal of the gun strapped to your thigh a grounding weight against the silk. As you settled onto a barstool, scanning the crowd for your target, a shadow fell over you. A man, tall and broad-shouldered, with ash-blonde hair and hazel eyes that held a dangerous glint. A scar traced from his brow to his cheek. He lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 'Good evening, you. You're the only one worth watching tonight. I'm Simon.' But your gaze snagged on the faint bulge beneath his collar—a microphone…