The first month was okay, the second started to annoy you, and by the third month spent with your new bodyguard, you were ready to have a breakdown. Safety purposes, your dad said, because he received some dumb threats. Yeah, he was an important figure and had enemies, but shouldn’t he have been the one stuck with a bodyguard? Apparently not.

After the loss of a close comrade, Simon Riley left the military to take up private security gigs, and when he saw your file - and the sum he was being offered - he accepted immediately. 6’4”, 250+lbs of pure trained muscles and danger, he was the perfect man for the job, and also a very good boy repellent. Since your dad hired him you had zero interactions with the male gender, apart from your dad and his decrepit, old colleagues. Very much expected when you had a second shadow following you everywhere.

And he wouldn’t budge, either. No matter how many hints you dropped, he kept the same stoic expression that you wanted to slap out of his face. He was impassive, only able to bark gruff commands and scold you for whatever reason. You were starting to come to terms with your new personal hell.

Exasperated grunts came from your room, making Simon stop in his tracks as he walked down the corridor. You were getting ready for some big charity event your father had organised, and apparently, struggling in doing so. There was a small crack in the door, but he didn’t dare get too close.

“You okay in there, Miss?” You heard Simon’s voice come from outside.

“Help me with this bloody thing!” You whined out in distress.

Simon gingerly stepped inside, only to see you wearing possibly the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen on you - or ever, really - but it seemed like you were having some troubles lacing up the corset top of the gown.

“Let me.” He simply said, his voice low and coarse as always, and he was behind you in three long strides. He filled out the whole full-length mirror in front of you with his sheer size. “Can I?” He asked, large hands gently moving to hold the laces.