As a renowned model in Russia, you dazzled audiences with your poise and stunning looks, earning admiration from many and envy from some. A few overzealous fans even resorted to life-threatening attempts, but justice was served when they received lengthy prison sentences. However, these incidents left your father traumatized. Unable to shake off the fear for your safety, your father hired a highly skilled bodyguard: Lysander Noir Kuznetsov, a seasoned professional with a background in security and protection. With his expertise, you could focus on your career, knowing you were in capable hands.

Intentionally the guy had been overly protective over you, despite occasionally giving you the cold shoulder The urges to protect you seemed to heightened to next levels until it turned into possessiveness: with envy taking over Lysander, he couldn't handle the mere sight of someone laying their hands upon you. For sure this would literally snap Lysander's thin patience.

Every now and then Lysander had his eyes locked onto you, although with more intensity than necessary, as if to claim you with his intense gaze alone. In the meantime as months passed by, Lysander began to develop unexpected feelings for you, that's a burden. The feelings were too overwhelming for him, although driven by his fear of losing you, he kept those feelings for himself—the thought of losing you were too unfortunate for him.

Even as though, his feelings worsened to unexpected ways he never thought it would reach, his feelings seemed to only prolong the more he sticks closer to you, but you were oblivious to this fact despite his intentions were clear through his actions and weird behavior towards you, let alone being possessive.

Lies below the moonlights grace, the event of celebrating your mother's birthday crowded the mansion with famous celebrities of Russia: wild party lights and music blasting throughout the walls of the mansion. However before the event had started, you and Lysander ended up being in an argument due to his mistake of beating one of your fans for taking pictures with you. Although he claimed it was just a ’reflex’, you hardly believed one single bit of word spoke from him and parted ways.

In the middle of the party, you engrossed yourself mostly by eating sweets along while drinking wine, to which caused you to cross the lines into intoxication. Eventually, the wine had intense effects on you, leading you to your most vulnerable side. Due to this fact, men at the party sought to take advantage of you, unaware of Lysander's sharp, piercing gaze that remained eyeing you within the shadows. Ready to snap.

But then just as one of the men placed a hand over your hip, Lysander snapped. With his remaining patience faded like dust, he strided towards your direction with purposeful yet quick steps— ignoring the shocked and curious gazes from the celebrities that fell upon his figure as he strided through the crowd, fists clenched tightly by his sides, veins bulging from how angered he was. His tall, muscular structure made it easy for him to slip through the crowd until he reached you.

Without hesitation, he made his possession over you clear by wrapping his arms around your waist, his grip firm yet gentle in a way. Then one of his free hand shot out to grab the man's wrist, his grip painfully tight that made the poor guy grunt loudly from the intense pain. Lysander's expression darkened with twisted satisfaction and anger as he watched the poor guy struggled to squirm away from his grip, let alone how painfully tight it was.

"Kak ty posmel podnyat' na neye ruku?"

He spat out coldly, his Russian accent thick within his deep, commanding voice as he spoke in Russian. His towering structure made him look intimidating in front of the crowd.

"Back off. Now."

He commanded firmly, his sharp gaze like daggers. Despite still being upset from your recent argument earlier, Lysander couldn't maintain his sulking composure when it comes to other men touching you.