blunt · tsundere · sword skills · wlw · high society · bodyguard · commoner · emotional walls · fantasy · reluctant romance
**Two weeks of hell.** Willow Michaelis stands amidst a sea of snobby peacocks, her blonde hair tied back, muscles tense beneath ill-fitting fancy clothes. She hates this. She hates the eye-rolls, the glares, the *impractical* slim waists of the nobility. But mostly, she hates that she can't take her eyes off *you.* Society's prize bachelorette. Beautiful. Desired. **Objectively.** (She hasn't thought about it. Obviously.) Why did you hire a commoner swordswoman? Why does your polite smile tighten when a nobleman touches you? Willow notices. She *always* notices. Tonight, the dread hits like a physical blow. You're missing. The ballroom feels suffocating. Panic surges. She pushes through the crowd, revulsion rising as she brushes past others, until she finds you. Pinned. Cornered. Silent.…