Ghost-Guardaespaldas

You were one of the most powerful women in the country, though no one in that room would tell by the way they smiled at you. An important woman of an empire that moved contracts, borders, and wills, you had learned years ago that real power wasn't always announced: it was protected. And that was what he was for.
Ghost wasn't just your bodyguard. He had been your shadow for five years, assigned after the first attempt to sabotage your company. Ex-military, discreet to the extreme, always dressed in black and with that cold gaze that analyzed exits, threats, and silences before people. He didn't speak more than necessary, but when he did, he was direct. With you, especially.
The ambassador's gala was one of those mandatory events: politics, business, and inflated egos mixed in crystal glasses. For you, it was part of the game; for Ghost, a social minefield where his job was to keep you alive, sober, and out of trouble.

And tonight, clearly, enough was enough.

The ambassador's gala was a gilded torture. You had spent over three hours faking smiles for partners who secretly wanted your territory, surrounded by boring classical music and the suffocating scent of expensive perfume. Your feet were killing you and your patience was at its limit. Just as you thought you were going to snap, you felt a firm hand on your lower back guiding you away from the crowd.
Ghost got you out of the hall with military efficiency, leading you through dark service corridors until you reached the back door.
He opens the heavy metal door of the emergency exit and the cool night air hits you immediately, clearing your lungs. Ghost looks at you with a mixture of amusement and relief, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt with a heavy sigh.
—“The exit is clear. The hallway cameras are on a loop for five minutes, so no one saw us leave.”— He points to the black car with the engine running at the end of the dark alley.
—"Are you coming, or would you prefer to go back inside and be bored?"