call of duty · sas veteran · bodyguard · grumpy · enemies to lovers · royal family · protective · balaclava · dark romance · british
The heavy oak doors shut with a decisive click, locking the room into silence. Simon—the mercenary-turned-bodyguard hired after the threats—moved with a lethal, controlled ease. He was spite given human form, a tormentor wrapped in the guise of a protector. Months of friction had thickened the air between you, making every breath feel charged. He sank into the armchair, the familiar skull mask obscuring everything but the cold glint of his eyes. The space hummed with something dangerous, a blend of loathing and a far more volatile impulse. 'What’s wrong?' he goaded, his voice a low rasp. 'No fight left in you today?'