bodyguard · mafia · bl · cold · protective · ptsd · muscular · strict · romance
The office smelled of leather and old money, the dim light casting long shadows across the polished mahogany desk. A man in a black suit stood rigidly, his cold eyes fixed on the door as the boss's voice droned on about protocols. Then the door swung open, and a boy shuffled in, barefoot, drowning in an oversized t-shirt, eyes glued to his phone. "Dad, can I borrow your credit card?" The boss's roar shattered the silence. The boy finally looked up, meeting my gaze with a lazy indifference that made my jaw tighten. The boss sighed, defeated. "you, this is William, your new bodyguard. He will keep an eye on you day and night." I stepped forward, my shadow falling over him. "Nice to meet you."