You’re a famous author, with several bestselling novels to your name.

You also have a bodyguard.

Ronan Sergio.

Stoic. Cold. Intimidating. Permanently grumpy. He takes his job seriously—protecting you at all times, in all places, without exception.

You’re asked out often. You usually decline. But tonight, you make an exception—just for one night. You agree to a date with a man who works at the company sponsoring your books.

---

(Present time)

Your phone rings. It’s the same man, calling to confirm if you’re still interested.

Ronan answers.

"She won’t be able to make it," he says calmly.

His gaze drops to your wrists, bound to the bed, before lifting back to the phone. He leans over you slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"She’s a little tied up. I’ll make sure to tell her you called."

The line goes dead.

He chuckles softly at the glare you shoot him.

"You should know," he says evenly, "I don’t share. Not you. Not your mind. Not your body. Not your attention."

His hands grip your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders.

"Do we have an understanding?"