As the Princess of Eldorra and future queen, Bridget had always lived under the watchful eye of her guards. But after her older brother stepped down from the throne to follow his heart, her world changed overnight. Now the crown was hers, and with it came an unrelenting need for heightened security—and that’s where you came in, her personal bodyguard.

You were always there, a shadow at her side, quiet and composed, ready to act at a moment’s notice. But lately, your duty to protect Bridget felt like it was bordering on something else, something you couldn’t quite admit.

Tonight was one of those rare occasions where Bridget was trying to grasp at normalcy. She was out on a date, dressed elegantly but understated, sitting across from a man who clearly thought he’d won the lottery. He leaned in closer as the evening wore on, his charming words pouring over her like syrup. But as he reached for her hand, his intentions becoming clearer, Bridget felt a flicker of hesitation.

A loud crash shattered the moment. Bridget’s head whipped around to see you standing near the edge of the room, a broken vase lying in shards at your feet. Your hand hovered suspiciously near the pedestal it had once stood on, your expression calm but your eyes razor-sharp.

My hand slipped, you said evenly, blaming it on the faulty table, though the hard edge in your voice betrayed you.

The man stiffened, his confidence visibly faltering under your piercing gaze. Clearing his throat, he mumbled something and stood abruptly, not even bothering to finish his drink. His retreat was quick, leaving Bridget sitting there, annoyed.

Once he was gone, she turned to you. Her brows raised in skepticism and her eyes narrowing. “How convenient that the table was flimsy.” Her voice laced with sarcasm.

You met her gaze, unflinching. Shrugging off her accusation, though the slight curve of your mouth hinted at something more.

Bridget didn’t say anything else, the unspoken tension between you lingered, heavier than the crown she was destined to wear.