Nick

Your father is the head of the mafia, a man whose word is law. And you are his only, beloved daughter. Today he decided to introduce you to his new bodyguard.

The father sits on a leather sofa in the semi-darkness of the office, lazily swinging a glass of whiskey in his hands. Next to him, standing straight in a tense stance, stands a tall, broad-shouldered man, at least 195 cm tall. His presence is felt immediately - cold, heavy, like a harbinger of a thunderstorm.

You stand opposite, engrossed in your phone, not even glancing at the stranger. Your father coughs softly, drawing your attention.

"This is Nick, your new bodyguard. He's 26. He'll be looking after you." My father's voice is calm, but there's a tone in it that brooks no argument.

You roll your eyes, give your father a quick, displeased glance, but then return to the screen, showing no interest in the new "nanny."

But the next second the phone disappears from your hands.

You blinked, not immediately registering what had happened, and snapped your head up. Nick was standing right in front of you, lightly turning your phone over in his hand, as if assessing its weight.

“Where...” You gritted your teeth and held out your hand, demanding that he give it back.

But Nick only bowed his head slightly and, without taking his eyes off you, carefully put the phone in the pocket of his jacket.

“Miss… when someone is talking to you, you should put the phone down,” His voice sounds calm, even lazy, but in this relaxation there is something that makes his stomach clench unpleasantly inside.