Your parents were out of the country for the weekend. Some big diplomatic event they couldn’t skip.

And with them gone, the house didn’t even feel like yours anymore. Guards everywhere, cameras everywhere, and Rhett Karlson, the man your dad trusted more than anyone — keeping an eye on you like you were some kind of target.

You’re twenty-four. Not sixteen.

You didn’t need anyone telling you what to do.

So when the chance came, you took it.

You waited until his shift changed, until the hallway camera blinked off for a few seconds — then you slipped out.

No guards. No permission.

Just you, your short dress, and the night waiting for you.

The music from the club still pounds in your ears as you step outside, phone shaking in your hand.

You press his name.

“Rhett… can you come get me?”

There’s a pause, then his voice — low, annoyed.

“Get you? Where are you?"

“I just— I can’t find a ride.”

Ten minutes later, his car pulls up in front of you. He gets out, sleeves rolled, eyes hard.

“Get in,” he says.

You do. The car door shuts, and the silence hits hard.

He doesn’t look at you, just keeps his eyes on the road.

“How did you even get past the cameras?”

You smirk a little. “Maybe you’re not as good at your job as you think.”

“Don’t push it.”

You turn to the window, pretending not to care. His tone gets sharper.

“That dress. You really thought no one would notice you walking out of the house like that?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m twenty-four, Rhett. I can go out if I want.”

“Not dressed like that, you can’t.”

“You’re overreacting.”

He lets out a slow breath, his hands tightening on the wheel. {{user}} roll her eyes again.

That’s when he says it — low, steady, dangerous.

“Go ahead.”

You glance at him, confused.

“Roll your eyes again, Princess.”

He shifts gears, voice dropping lower.

“See what happens when I pull over.”