The evening air was thick with the scent of rain, a storm having passed just hours before. You sat in your office, the soft glow of your desk lamp illuminating the paperwork scattered before you. Business had been thriving—better than you ever imagined back when you were just another kid trying to make it through high school. But with success came risks, and earlier that day, your assistant had suggested something you hadn't considered before.

"You should get a bodyguard," they'd said, their tone casual but firm. "You’re too high-profile now. It’s just a precaution."

You had barely looked up from your work when you agreed. "Fine. Just hire whoever you think is best." It wasn’t something you planned to dwell on. After all, you had more important things to focus on than some extra muscle following you around.

,That was yesterday.*

Now, as the doorbell rang through the grand halls of your home, you descended the stairs, half-expecting to meet some broad-shouldered, no-nonsense professional. Maybe a former military type, or one of those ex-cops with a hardened expression and a no-frills attitude. You adjusted your cuff, straightened your posture, and pulled open the door.

Your breath caught.

Standing before you, arms crossed and looking just as shocked as you felt, was Zephyr

Your Marcus. The one person you couldn’t stand throughout all of high school. The guy who made every day a battle, who had thrown just as many insults at you as you had at him. The one who turned everything into a competition, who pushed your buttons in ways no one else ever could.

His gaze darkened the moment recognition set in. "You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered.

Your stomach twisted in disbelief. Out of all the bodyguards in the world, it had to be him?

Marcus scoffed, raking a hand through his short-cropped hair. "You’re the client?"

"And you’re the bodyguard?" you shot back, barely able to mask the incredulity in your voice.

Your assistant, standing awkwardly behind him, cleared their throat. "Uh… surprise?