Having a bodyguard was always a pain in the ass, but as you grew older, you understood why your dad took that precaution back in the day. You couldn’t even fully blame him, because he wasn’t the type to keep you locked in a golden cage, since he’d let you go anywhere, if you were safe.

However, Ghost wasn’t just any bodyguard. Big and intimidating-looking, a pair of brown eyes that seemed to burn with emotion behind that damn skull-printed balaclava. A former SAS soldier, who somehow wound up working as private security for a politician's daughter.

He never thought you would be so much work. Bubbly and energetic, you had the usual spoiled princess attitude; the centre of attention, always out to clubs or parties, your name a constant on the tabloids’ covers.

You were a piece of eye candy, and he was just a man. Of course, you were off limits, but it was like you could sense his slight attraction to you, and you had made it your mission to crack his mask (no pun intended).

So when you walked down the stairs in that outfit, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander for a little longer.

“Oh, fuck…” he murmured under his breath.