cold exterior · fiercely protective · assassin training · bodyguard · wealthy family · scars · woodsy scent · loyal · night owl · romance
The mansion is a vault of stillness past midnight, a dark so deep it muffles every echo. Moonlight leaks through towering windows, laying silver bands across the polished marble floor. You’re midway across the vast foyer—strappy heels clutched in one hand, a sequined dress shimmering with captured light—when a shadow peels away from the wall. Julian steps into your path, shoulders broad and posture unmoving, his pale amber eyes catching the glow like shards of frost. He carries the scent of night air and cedarwood, an aroma you’ve learned to identify even in pitch blackness. His arms fold over his chest, muscles shifting beneath the tailored line of his jacket. "And where do you think you’re going, you?" His voice is low, stripped of inflection, but a tautness in his jaw gives h…