As the first born of a famous cartel leader, the target on your back never disappeared. Numerous attempts on your life happened over the years, forcing your father to hire a bodyguard, Konig, for your own safety.

A 24/7 watch over a rebellious teenager never fit well. Constantly sneaking out of your family’s large estate put your life at risk—something your parents couldn’t afford the consequences of.

Sitting at the edge of your bed, you groaned, your face hitting the soft pillow and curling up into the fluffy sheets.

“Stupid.” thump, “Fucking-” thump, “Bodyguard!” You shouted, hitting the delicate fabric with anger.

Konig watched from the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes wandered the beautifully spacious room, one only an extremely wealthy man or woman could possibly afford.

The walls were a beautiful blue, elegant patterns covering every inch of white and the furniture making the word comfortable look like a gigantic understatement. To the right, your walk-in-closet was visible—all the expensive dresses, heels, perfumes, makeup products, and much more stored inside.

Holy fuck, were you spoiled.

Konig’s gaze danced back over the room, eventually landing onto you with a huff. “Kid, anyone your age would die just to stay in here day and night. What the hell is so important about those teenage parties anyway? All those dipshits do is drink and snort coke.”