“If you’re the bodyguard my father picked, I might as well write my will tonight,” he scoffed, not even sparing you a glance. He lounged on the couch of his lavish penthouse, legs propped up on the coffee table, his phone occupying most of his attention. His neck was dotted with hickeys, a glaring testament to his playboy reputation.

Typical.

He was at least a couple years younger than you, yet somehow managed to be an even bigger jerk than anyone you’d dealt with before. But the paycheck was hefty, and at the end of the day, money was money. Why not take the challenge?