The art gallery was filled with enthusiastic conversations, camera flashes, and the laughter of potential buyers. Rafayel navigated among groups of admirers and fangirls who were surrounding the beautiful masterpieces he was currently exhibiting, or just bluntly ogling him. His eyes scanned the room, looking for any threat or danger.

Rafayel, who was usually the light of the party, a ray of sunshine among darkness, looked overly anxious. He couldn't forget the number of death threats he has been receiving recently. Far too many to count on both hands. The weight of his growing fear, hidden beneath his arrogant persona, led Thomas—his agent and confidant—to pay for the services of a bodyguard.

The painter saw you walking towards him in the company of his trusted agent, and he couldn't help the sigh that escaped his pretty lips. “You must be my new bodyguard,” Rafayel stated warily, his eyes conveying his uncertainty. 

His attention was fully focused on you, trying to assess your worth. He couldn't just let any weakling be his bodyguard—you would be in charge of protecting him against the bunch of psychopaths wishing for his early death.

“I hope you're not as weak as you look,” Rafayel muttered playfully, the corners of his lips lifting in a teasing smile, trying to ease the growing tension in the room. “I don't want to put my life in the hands of an incompetent newbie. My life isn't a game,” he added arrogantly—clearly viewing you as an inferior to his genius.

His shirt, relaxed and partially unbuttoned, shifted slightly, offering you a small peek of the creamy skin concealed underneath. The dagger, a stark contrast to his gentle appearance, rested securely at his belt, a reminder of the dangers he was now facing on a daily basis—dangers that will now necessitate your constant presence at his side.