One

Mondays were her least favorite days.

What she hated more than the early alarm or the crowded streets were men in black suits following her everywhere.

Their presence was suffocating, like invisible chains she couldn’t shake. She hated how serious they looked, how careful they were, how much space they took up in her life without asking.

Amara Drevino had grown used to the world watching her, but she still hated it. Especially now, that she was going back home.

Back to her fathers rules and coldness

And now, there was a new problem.

Her father had decided she needed a new bodyguard. The old one was “on leave,” a word that meant nothing to her because it didn’t matter who it was… he, she, or they… they all had one job… follow her, protect her, and make sure she didn’t breathe wrong.

Amara sighed, dragging her bag across the marble floor. She didn’t care who the new one was. She was certain he would be just like the others: silent, intimidating, and completely useless at understanding her.

She hadn’t met him yet, and somehow, that made the thought worse.

Her phone buzzed. A message from her father:

“Darius will meet you at the airport. Trust him.”

Amara frowned at the screen. Darius. A name she didn’t recognize.

She rolled her eyes. Of course, her father’s idea of “trust” always came with danger tucked neatly inside.

She dragged her bag down the driveway, ignoring the men in black who flanked her like silent shadows. Her father’s words…“Trust him”echoed in her mind, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Trust wasn’t something handed out in her world. It was earned, and from what she knew of her father’s choices, “trust” usually meant trouble was coming.

The car waited, sleek and black, engine purring like a predator. The driver opened the door, and she slid in, already bracing herself.

“ Amara Drevino?” a voice asked from the back seat. Calm. Low. Controlled.

Amara scanned the airport, her eyes searching for the man her father had assigned. And then she saw him.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair falling just enough to make his sharp jawline even more striking.

The black suit hugged him in all the right places, crisp and commanding. But it wasn’t the clothes… it was him. The way he moved, calm and deliberate, like every step had a purpose.

His eyes….dark, piercing, and unflinching…locked onto her from across the crowd. They were the kind of eyes that made her pulse skip and her stomach tighten, even though she told herself she shouldn’t notice.

Every part of him screamed control and danger. And yet… irresistibly.

Amara felt heat rise to her cheeks, an odd mix of frustration and something she couldn’t name. He was furiously handsome. Breathtaking

“Yes,” she said, to control her voice “And you are?”

“I’m Darius,” he said simply.

Her eyes flicked to him.

She had had her fair share of handsome men but damn …

There was something in the way he sat, poised and deliberate, that made her stomach tighten. Not in fear… well, maybe a little but in that prickly, irritating way she hated.

“Darius,” she repeated slowly. “My father’s new… bodyguard?”

He nodded once. “Assigned to keep you safe.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Safe,” she said slowly, “from what?

“You never know what’s coming,” he said, voice even, eyes still on the road ahead. “It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to you.”

She scoffed softly. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I always am.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at her.

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

Valeforte.

This was a city that never sleeps.

Amara could hear its buzzing. The low hum of traffic. The wail of sirens slices through the dark. The echo of engines and voices that tangled in the alleys like smoke. Neon light shone through the office windows, staining the floor in gold and crimson.

This was her father’s empire.

The city blurred past the tinted windows, but her mind refused to stop thinking about him.

He didn’t talk. He didn’t joke. He didn’t even glance her way. Yet she could feel it…the tension, the control, the barely-contained strength he carried like armor.

When the car finally stopped at the mansion.

The Dervino mansion.

world unto itself… an empire of marble, glass, and iron that whispered of power and wealth at every turn. Towering columns framed the grand entrance, and a sweeping driveway led to black, polished doors that seemed to swallow visitors whole. The gardens were manicured to perfection, with fountains that sparkled in the sunlight and hedges trimmed into sharp, geometric shapes that mirrored the precision of the family.

To Amara, it wasn’t just a home. It was a cage. A gilded prison where every move, every word, and every look could be measured, weighed, and judged. the walls were heavy with portraits of ancestors who seemed to watch her with quiet judgment.Even the gardens, perfectly trimmed and dotted with sparkling fountains, felt suffocating, like the family’s control had spilled into the soil itself.

Cameras and guards at every corner.

She hated it here.

She expected him to step aside, let her go, and follow behind. But he opened the door before she could move.

“I’ll get your bags,” he said, his voice calm, professional.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, stepping out, trying to ignore the warmth that ran through her at the sight of him moving with quiet precision.

“You’ll take it anyway,” he said, not harshly, not smugly..

She raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Because it’s my job to make sure you don’t lift a finger,” he said simply.

Her stomach flipped. Irritating. Infuriating. And strangely… exciting.