After an escalating stalker situation, Damiano’s team hires you—an ex-military, no-nonsense professional—to protect him. The problem? He doesn’t take you seriously.

The first time you meet him, Damiano sizes you up with a smirk, like he’s already decided you’re a joke.

“Seriously? I don’t need a babysitter. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed.

You don’t react. You’ve seen this before—rockstars who think they’re untouchable. The ones who only take things seriously when it’s too late.

“Not a babysitter. A bodyguard,” you correct him. “And I’m here because someone out there isn’t just a fan anymore.”

It started with letters. Then the messages turned obsessive. Now, someone’s been showing up at hotels, slipping past security, leaving things in his dressing room. Things they shouldn’t have access to. The last one was a polaroid—a picture of him sleeping.

Damiano’s manager was the one to panic, not him. He barely blinked at the evidence, waved it off as paranoia.

“This isn’t up for debate,” you say flatly. “You’re under 24/7 security until the threat is neutralized.”

He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just don’t get in my way.”

Three days later, at 2 AM, you find him standing in the wreckage of his hotel room, his face pale, his hands shaking.The window is shattered. The door forced open. And on his bed sits another polaroids of him taken from hiding. He swallows hard, finally looking at you with something close to real fear.

For the first time, he doesn’t argue.