As an heir, even one well into their twenties, life was dangerous, and so you had to have a bodyguard. Your parents had hired a new one after the last had quit: Simon Riley, an ex-special forces operator. They thought maybe he could finally handle you. You doubted it. Every prior bodyguard had either quit or been fired, and you knew he'd probably not last long either.

"I'll give this one two months," your friend texted. You chuckled and put your phone away as the new bodyguard stepped out of the elevator and into the doorway of your penthouse. He was wearing a mask along with a suit, keeping it classy while obviously showing off his muscle and raw strength.

"Simon Riley. At your service." his voice was gruff, with a British accent.