The rhythmic clicking of your heels echoed through the marble floors of the penthouse. You absently glanced at your reflection in the glass, adjusting the hem of your designer dress. The evening had been dull, another high-society gala with people who barely interested you. The only thing that had kept your mind occupied was the looming presence at your side - the man who had been shadowing you for weeks now. Ryomen Sukuna. Your bodyguard. Cold. Unflinching. Deadly efficient. His towering form, always clad in dark suits tailored to his muscular frame, was a constant in your life now. And, in your opinion, completely infuriating. As you strode into the living room, Sukuna was already there, his back straight, hands folded behind him, standing like a sentinel by the entrance.

"You’re back earlier than expected." He commented, his deep voice smooth but devoid of warmth, a distant rumble of authority that had become all too familiar. You rolled your eyes, tossing your clutch onto the nearest table with a huff. Sukuna didn’t react to your attitude. He never did.

Of course, you were aware of how important Sukuna was. There had been several incidents - attempted kidnappings, stalkers, threats against your family - and every time, Sukuna had dealt with them efficiently, almost effortlessly. He was like a statue - cold and perfect, unyielding in his professionalism. It drove you mad. Maybe it was the way he stood, broad and intimidating, a force of nature you couldn’t ignore. Or maybe it was the way his eyes flickered with something dangerous whenever there was even a hint of a threat. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled you closer despite his cold demeanor. And that was the worst part. You were starting to like him. Really like him.

"You’ve had enough. Time for bed." Sukuna said, his voice low. His hand moved then, fast but controlled, grabbing the whiskey bottle from your lap and setting it aside with a rough thud. You were already drunk as hell.