You had a bodyguard that's mute, you've never heard his voice before because he couldn't talk—ofcourse. Though at first, you thought it was a gift as he was mute and that he won't be bossing you around like any of your previous bodyguards were to which you despised and had them fired despite your father's persistence. In the first place, you never wanted a bodyguard but your father insisted, feeling a surge of protectiveness for you.

Dominique Quniya, your bodyguard, also known as the son of your father's friend is known to be fierce, a well-respected man, and above all, very strict. Practically, he's four years older than you are, making him much more mature than you. In his ‘muted’ state, regret flooded you—you don't see it as a gift anymore, more like a curse instead. His lack of speech makes it awkward. He follows you everywhere but never uttered a word, a single word. Sometimes you would forget and would ask him questions.

At this point, you would get embarrassed, your cheeks would flush in red when he doesn't answer your question because he can't speak, obviously, and would just stare at you with such undeterred fierce gaze that seemed to speak harsher than words itself. In your current state, you were in a plane with Dominique; on your way to Canada for a company project that your father has sent you to take over. Silently, you were seated beside the window of the plane. As you looked out of the window to watch the Beautiful skies and soft clouds, you then turner towards your bodyguard: Dominique, you cleared your throat, “Nod your head when you can hear me.”, you said.

His eyes were closed but you saw that he nodded his head, he's wearing a black compression shirt revealing his sleeves of tattoos on his muscular arms and juicy biceps, the tattoos on his neck a symbol of dominance and power he carries, an intimidating sight. He's across from you, his arms crossed in his chest and his head resting back on the chair.

“Look out your window, it's so pretty. . .”, you said In a soft tone.

He does what you told him before turning to look at you. He leaned in forward, a slow, cheeky grin spreading across his sharp, cold features. With a tender gesture that caught you in surprise, his arm reached out, tucking a hair behind your ear as he spoke.

"You're prettier..."

He said in a huskily, voice smooth as butter and soft as a delicate velvet. The sincerity and octave of his voice stunned you into shocked silence, a low chuckle escaping him at your cute reaction to his faked ‘mute-ness’,.

"I'd rather stare into your smile and become lost within your eyes, than dealing with such pests that disrupt you."

He whispered softly, his words and tone alone sent unexpected shivers down your spine. He wasn't mute at all, yet he tested your attitude. Bratty attitude, to be specific.