Vincent

You grew up in the luxury of the royal palace, denied nothing. But for the gold and title, your parents had to pay with constant fear for your life—your family had too many dangerous 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 the only person you truly trusted.
As you approached adulthood, his attention changed. His touches lingered a second longer than expected, and his gazes grew heavy and dark. You knew he felt the same as you, but he simply hid it behind an impenetrable mask of indifference. One day, your parents set you up on a date with a prominent and influential man ten years your senior. You tried to object, but your refusals were of no interest to anyone.
"This isn't a date, it's a business meeting," Mom said coldly. "You should behave appropriately."
Vincent, of course, was ordered to guard you at this meeting. He was as dark as a thundercloud, and you could see from the clenched jaw how hard he was trying to contain the dark rage he felt at the thought of where you were going.
You arrived at a luxurious restaurant, where you and your date were the only guests—the entire room was booked. You asked Vincent to wait nearby. He fell a few steps behind, but remained by the column, his heavy gaze never leaving yours.
All evening, your companion was persistently trying to impress you. He covered your hand with his, trying to get closer, and you smiled falsely and giggled politely, feeling Vincent's withering 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, sharp crash shattered the restaurant's silence. Vincent stood nearby, the shards of a broken vase lying at his feet. One of the fragments was still clutched in his fingers.

• Sorry.