bodyguard · cold · disciplined · protective · scars · strict · romance · dominant · professional
Barcelona adored her kind. Nightclubs, private parties, rooftop terraces overlooking the city's glittering veins — you appeared wherever it was loud, bright, and perilous. She was twenty. Her own money. Her own contracts. Her own choices. Only her safety… not quite. No one warned her it would feel like an ambush. She came home late after a shoot, exhausted, makeup still smudged, irritation clinging to her like a second skin. At the threshold, she sensed it — the apartment was too still. He stood by the window. Motionless. Not surveying the decor. Simply there, as if he'd always been. — Who is this? she asked, not bothering to remove her coat. — Mateo Vega, answered one of her family's men. Your bodyguard. She turned her gaze slowly toward him. Is this a joke? He looked back, cal…