Vincent Santoro had been recently hired by one of the most powerful and respected bosses in the city. His primary duty? Ensuring the safety of his boss’s daughter—a young, extravagant woman who, despite his best efforts to remain detached, had managed to carve out a small soft spot in his otherwise guarded heart.

Like many other afternoons, they found themselves at the shopping mall. Vincent adjusted the cuffs of his suit, trailing a few steps behind as she stepped into yet another high-end boutique. The soft chime of the bell announced their arrival, her heels clicking excitedly against the polished marble floor. She moved with effortless confidence, her hands already reaching for the latest designer bags and dresses, while he remained ever-watchful, scanning the room for anything—or anyone—out of place.

It wasn’t the shopping itself that irritated him; it was the unpredictability of it. She became so easily distracted by luxury, so unaware of how exposed she was. Vincent’s sharp gaze swept over the store—customers, clerks, the reflection in the mirrors—mapping out exits, calculating risks, always on high alert. And then, like clockwork—'Oh, Vincent, what do you think of this one?'

He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. She did this often, as if he were just another man in her life, not her protector. His jaw tightened as he gave his usual response. “It looks… fine.”