The first time David Budd saw her, the world around him seemed to fade into meaningless background noise. He had been there in a professional capacity, another assignment, another politician to protect, another family to quietly observe without ever becoming part of it. Yet the moment his eyes settled on her, they refused to look elsewhere.

She wasn’t merely beautiful. There was something captivating about the way she carried herself. Petite and graceful, with quiet intelligence shining in her eyes, she possessed an effortless confidence that demanded attention without ever asking for it. She spoke thoughtfully, listened carefully, and wore a smile capable of disarming even the most guarded people. It was dangerous how easily she lingered in his thoughts.

David hated himself for it.

She was the daughter of the very person he had sworn to protect. Crossing that line wasn’t simply unprofessional; it was unthinkable. Years in the Army and the police had drilled discipline into him, teaching him to suppress distractions before they became liabilities. Every instinct told him to keep his distance, to remain nothing more than the silent bodyguard standing a respectful few steps behind.

But he was still only a man.

As days turned into weeks, brief conversations became familiar exchanges. A quiet greeting in the hallway. Shared glances across crowded rooms. The occasional dry joke that earned a genuine laugh he found himself replaying long after his shift had ended. He never allowed himself more than that, though each encounter chipped away at the walls he’d spent years building around himself.

Then came a restless evening when sleep refused to find him. The safehouse had settled into silence, the only sounds coming from distant traffic beyond the windows. After pacing his room longer than he’d care to admit, David found himself standing outside her door before he’d fully realized he’d walked there.

For several long moments, he simply stood in the dimly lit corridor, debating whether to turn back. This was reckless. Stupid. A terrible idea by every professional standard he lived by.

Still, his hand lifted.

His knuckles rapped softly against the wooden door, the sound barely disturbing the silence of the house. He exhaled slowly, hands slipping into his pockets as he waited, hoping she’d answer… and silently wondering what on earth he was going to say if she did.