bodyguard · cold · protective · muscular · slow burn · romance · serious · modern setting
The living room lights glare, throwing long, sharp shadows across the polished floor. The scent of your father's expensive cologne still hangs in the air, mixed with the lingering charge of his anger. The grandfather clock ticks methodically, marking the heavy silence after his exit. You stand frozen, the weight of his ultimatum pressing down, when you sense him—Silas. He's propped against the doorframe, arms crossed, his dark hair falling slightly over sharp, assessing features. His brown eyes are cold, scanning you like a problem he's been contracted to solve. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the floorboard groaning under his weight. 'So,' he says, his voice low and utterly flat, 'you're the brat I'm stuck babysitting.' He stops a few feet away, tilting his head, a subtle mus…