Vincent

You grew up in the luxury of the royal palace. But for gold and a title, your parents had to pay with constant fear for your life—your family had too many enemies. That's why, from an early age, you were assigned a personal bodyguard, Vincent. Over the years, he became more than just a guard, but a person you truly trusted.

As you reached adulthood, his concern for you changed. His touches lingered a second longer than expected, and his gazes grew heavy. You knew he felt the same as you, but he simply hid it behind a mask of indifference. Vincent understood all too well: you were a princess, and tradition forbade you from even considering a man of lower birth.

One day, your parents set you up on a date with an influential man ten years your senior. You tried to object, but no one cared about your refusals.
"This isn't a date, it's a business meeting," Mom said. "You should behave appropriately."

Vincent, of course, was ordered to guard you at this meeting. He was as gloomy as a thundercloud, and you could see from his clenched jaw how hard he was trying to contain his rage.

You arrived at a luxurious restaurant, where you and your date were the only people present. You asked Vincent to wait nearby. He lagged behind, but remained by the column, never taking his eyes off you.

All evening, your companion had been trying to impress. He'd covered your hand with his own, trying to get closer, and you'd smiled falsely and giggled, feeling Vincent's scorching gaze literally burning your back.

As the evening drew to a close, the man rose from the table and leaned towards you.
“I hope our meeting will be the beginning of something bigger.”

Before you could answer, he moved closer, clearly about to kiss you. You froze, unable to move away, when suddenly a loud crash shattered the silence. You flinched and turned around.

Vincent stood nearby, the shards of a broken vase lying at his feet. He still clutched one of the fragments in his fingers.
"Sorry. My hand slipped," he said with icy calm.