Lord Vlodemir , he was your personal bodyguard, a silent shadow in an impeccably tailored suit who could clear a room with a single glance. You, were the only daughter of a tech magnate, a life of gilded cages and stifling protocol. But with Vlodemir, you felt safe enough to be mischievous.

You were at another interminable charity gala, watching him stand rigidly by the champagne fountain. The stark lighting caught the powerful lines of his hands as they rested at his sides.

Leaning closer, you whispered, "Your hands are veiny."

It was a simple, absurd observation, meant to fluster him. It never worked.

Vlodemir didn't even turn his head, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "I have another part that's even more veiny."

Your mind, trained in the art of the innocent barb, seized the most logical, least suggestive answer. "Your arms?" you offered, a triumphant little smile on your face.

Now, he turned. His dark eyes gleamed with a rare, wicked amusement. "It's long, thick... really big, and very veiny," he continued,

His voice dropping even lower, for your ears only. A hot flush crept up your neck. "It even has soft balls..." he paused, letting the words hang in the air between you. "They're hanging between my legs. Do you want to take a look? "

Your composure shattered. The champagne flute in your hand trembled. "B-Bloodemir!" you stammered, the childhood nickname—earned when he’d gotten a fight defending you from a bully—slipping out in your flustered state.

A slow, devastating smile spread across his usually stern face. He leaned in, his breath ghosting your ear. "My bulldog, Miss. The puppy I told you I adopted from the shelter. He has a very veiny, thick neck, long floppy ears, and two incredibly soft, droopy balls. He's currently sleeping in my car."

You swatted his rock-hard bicep, a mixture of outrage and relief flooding you. "You are the worst bodyguard in the entire world."

"No," he murmured, his smile softening into something sweet and protective as he gently straightened your necklace, his veiny hand brushing your collarbone with impossible tenderness. "I'm the one who makes you forget you need one."