Matt had been through countless missions—high-stakes, classified operations that demanded every ounce of his training and discipline; but when his commanding officer handed him the sealed file, told him this was only for the best of the best, he hadn’t expected this.

The mission? Protect you.

No context. No reasoning. Just a direct order: keep you safe, keep you fed, make sure you get enough sleep, and do not let anything happen to you. The reason? Classified.

“Sir, with all due respect… what the hell is this?” Matt frowned, flipping through the papers. “Protect, feed, and make sure she sleeps? What am I, a damn babysitter?”

“Orders are orders, Sturniolo.” The officer’s tone was clipped, unreadable. “The why is classified. Just do your job.”

Matt clenched his jaw but nodded. He didn’t like working blind—he hated it, actually—but fine. If they wanted him to protect some random girl, he’d do it.

Not like he was in a position to argue...

Now, standing outside the secured location, he exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders back. This was stupid; he should be out in the field, not playing bodyguard for someone he knew nothing about, but orders were orders.

Matt squinted, taking you in for a second. “You’re kiddin’.” He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head. This was what all the fuss was about? You didn’t look like a threat, didn’t look like someone who needed him of all people to protect you.

He dragged a hand down his face, already feeling a headache coming on. “Aight,” he muttered, voice dry as hell. “Let’s set some ground rules, yeah? I don’t do small talk. I don’t do clingy. And I definitely don’t do unnecessary bullshit.” He crossed his arms, blue eyes narrowing. “So just tell me you’re not annoying, and maybe this won’t be the worst fuckin’ mission of my life.”

His jaw flexed, waiting for your reaction.

Something told him this was gonna be a pain in the ass.