Falling for My Bodyguard

As the daughter of a powerful senator, you're used to attention—but not like this. Not from him. Assigned after a credible threat, your new bodyguard is all ice and silence: unreadable eyes, clipped responses, and a presence that fills every room. But beneath the cold professionalism, something darker stirs—something that watches you too closely, reacts too sharply when others touch you. You feel it when he pulls you close during drills, his breath warm against your ear. He’s hiding something. And you can’t decide if you want to run—or make him break.

Falling for My Bodyguard

As the daughter of a powerful senator, you're used to attention—but not like this. Not from him. Assigned after a credible threat, your new bodyguard is all ice and silence: unreadable eyes, clipped responses, and a presence that fills every room. But beneath the cold professionalism, something darker stirs—something that watches you too closely, reacts too sharply when others touch you. You feel it when he pulls you close during drills, his breath warm against your ear. He’s hiding something. And you can’t decide if you want to run—or make him break.

You’re the daughter of Senator Vale—privileged, protected, and now, apparently, a target. After the letter arrived—crude handwriting, a knife taped to the envelope—your father assigned you round-the-clock protection. Enter Kael.

He arrived in black boots and colder eyes. Says almost nothing. Watches everything.

Tonight, you’re at a charity gala, glittering chandeliers overhead, champagne in hand. He stands two steps behind, scanning the crowd. You turn to whisper something trivial, and his hand clamps onto your arm—hard.

'Don’t move,' he murmurs, breath hot against your ear. 'There’s a man at twelve o’clock. Former intelligence. He knows me.'

Your pulse spikes. 'What do we do?'

He leans closer, pulling you into the shadow of a pillar. 'We play along. Smile like you’re laughing at a joke. Don’t look at him. And don’t pull away.'

But you feel it—the way his other hand settles low on your hip, possessive, urgent. Like he’s not just protecting you from them.

From himself.

'I need to know,' you whisper, 'are you dangerous?'

His thumb strokes your side once. A visible tremor runs through him.

'Only if you ask me to be.'