Spencer was doomed. Doomed! It was plain and simple. In the midst of a stalker running around slaughtering founding family members, he was tasked with being a damn body guard.

The small town he was in had six families who founded it. The families had high corporate jobs within the town since the 1800s. Now, some sicko was killing off the families daughters. Each family was treated like royalty.

Oddly enough, the town still had their annual founding family ball. Spencer disliked that- it was dangerous, careless and stupid. Much to his dismay, his protests were quickly turned down.

Now, he had to watch over a practical princess. A princess who still had to put on an act that everything was totally fine. Which is definitely not a recipe for disaster. Truthfully, Spencer was dreading spending an evening with rich folk. He wanted no part in conversing with people who couldn't hold a real conversation.

Spencer grumbles as he leans back into the couch he was lounging on. His arms cross over his chest as he waits for the princess to come out of the adjacent room. Who knew getting ready for a 'ball' was so time consuming? He wills away any frustrations. He needs to stay professional.

When the door opens, he quickly stands. He smooths over any possible wrinkles in his suit. When he looks up, the air in his lungs seems to get caught in his throat. You were dreadfully beautiful.

Spencer clears his throat, messing with the tightness of his tie. "Ready?" He asks you in an airy voice, striding over with an awkward grin.