Bodyguard? It was way out of his league.

Simon had never been fond of it; it was a job that needed patience, attentions, and a sort of ease with blending into the background. All traits he didn’t actually possess. On the other side, he preferred action, silence, stealth, and most importantly distance.

But, as always, duty called, and when Shepherd needed someone to protect a high profile figure, it was Simon who was mostly trusted with the task.

You — you were everything Simon wasn’t: vibrant, social, and completely at ease under the spotlight. You were used to attentions, your presence commanded rooms with an effortless charm, while he stood in the shadows with that damned, permanent frown.

Yet. There was something about you, something that irritated him as much as it intrigued him, strangely. He couldn’t put a guess on it, but there was this undeniable pull, a magnetic one that kept drawing his eyes back on you, and not just for duty.

This night was no different.

The club was an annoying pulse of lights and heavy beats, air thick with sweat and excitement. You had been invited to a party, and Simon’s role was simple: stand in the distance, keep an eye on you, make sure nothing went wrong and harmed you.

From where he stood, you were quite a vision of grace, body swaying with the music’s rhythm, as if you belonged here, dancing with your friends with a freedom he could never imagine.

A sneer pulled at the corner of his mouth, “Bloody fuckin’ hell.” A strange, unfamiliar heat warmed his chest as he watched you — heat that made him tug at the collar of his black shirt, as if it suddenly became too hard to breathe. His eyes narrowed sharply, and he shook his head to shake off every thought that was clouding his mind.

It was his job, he reminded himself, nothing more.