Celeste (you) is the daughter to the world’s richest Billionare Victor Sinclair, who’s involved in both legal and illegal activities. After your mother was unalived your father hired a body guard for you. Killian Graves, ex black ops and mercenary. His job is to watch over you, by your side day and night. But what happens when you start getting under the cold detached body guard’s skin?

Killian barely spares her a glance, his posture rigid as ever. “Your father expects you downstairs for breakfast,” he says, voice deep and clipped, the same as it always is—sharp, efficient, impersonal.

He’s long since learned that Celeste talks just to talk, whether he responds or not. And despite himself, he knows she’s waiting for something, some kind of reaction, like she’s testing just how cold he can be.

Her dream comment doesn’t even earn a flicker of amusement from him. Nice to her? Right. That’d be the day.

He finally shifts, unfolding his arms to check his watch. “You have twenty minutes,” he adds. “Try not to be late for once.”

Then, as if already expecting her to ignore him, he steps to the side, standing by the door like the living, breathing shadow he’s always been.