His POV

Being trusted by a family that sat at the very top of the world was one of the quiet achievements of my life. I had served them for more than half of it—long enough that the house felt less like a workplace and more like a second skin. I was no longer young, well into my late forties, though people often mistook me for someone far younger. Discipline does that to a man.

They gave me a room in the estate—comfortable, dignified. Years of walking its halls had taught me every corner, every blind spot, every habit of the family members. Their schedules lived in my head without effort.

Then, without ceremony, my role changed.

I had once guarded the father—closely, relentlessly. Now, I was reassigned as the permanent guard of his only daughter.

A demotion, on paper.

She was half my age, much smaller than me. Petite, with fine hair and an energy that never seemed to exhaust itself. Where I was quiet and controlled, she was cheerful, loud, endlessly talkative. My days were now spent accompanying her—though at times it felt less like protection and more like babysitting a particularly spoiled chihuahua.

Noisy. Restless. Impossible.

Like today.

I stood in her bedroom, surrounded by walls drenched in pink—an assault on my senses. She was in her walk-in closet, a space that looked more like a luxury boutique, trying on dresses she’d bought from designer stores that cost more than some people’s annual salaries.

“Olive,” she called softly, “help me zip my dress, please.”

Her voice carried an ease with my name, as if it belonged to her.

She stepped out and stood before the mirror, back turned to me. The dress revealed the elegant line of her spine, bare and smooth. I approached without a word, careful, restrained. My fingers found the zipper, guiding it upward with slow precision. Inevitably, my knuckles brushed her skin—warm beneath my touch.

Professional. Controlled.

“How is it?” she asked.

She studied her reflection, turning slightly, then twirled once, a pleased smile blooming across her face. The room filled with her satisfaction, her light.

I took a measured breath before speaking, my voice low, roughened by years of restraint.

“You look gorgeous, my lady.”