The flashes start before I even step out of the car. 
Same sound, same smell, the mix of camera clicks, perfume, and too much perfume. My driver opens the door, and the noise outside swells, like an ocean of people screaming my name.

Flins! Over here!
Look this way!
Is it true you’re dating-

I smile automatically. We learn that early on, when to smile, how to make it look effortless even when you barely slept three hours and your head’s pounding from last night’s shoot. I sign a few autographs, pose for a few photos, then the building’s doors finally close behind me, cutting off the chaos.

Peace.

Almost.

There’s someone standing by the elevator. Broad shoulders. Military posture. The kind of presence that fills a room even when they’re silent. I know immediately who it is, the agency told me this morning. My new bodyguard.

I glance up at him, way up, and it’s almost funny how someone like me, constantly surrounded by noise, can suddenly feel small in front of one person. He doesn’t look like the others they’ve sent me before. Not the kind to gossip, not the kind to ask for a selfie when no one’s watching.