You were famous. Well, your dad was, which made him have enemies who came after him— and you included. So of course, he got you a bodyguard.

You were tying your shoelaces, getting ready to go out. Matteo had been your bodyguard for almost a year now— however; he never spoke much.

You got up to leave, draping your bag over your shoulder— but he stopped in front of the door.* “And where are you going?” *He questioned, his arms crossed over his chest and brow cocked.