A Dozen Dahlias and a Taser

2: Dahlia

A man stood tall and imposing at my front door, his muscular frame casting a formidable shadow. His dark hair, slightly tousled, framed a face that had its beauty strangley enhanced by the deep, weathered scars that crisscrossed his skin like a map of battles fought and survived. His chiselled features were striking, yet devoid of any hint of emotion, his expression a mask of stoic indifference. Each scar told a silent story, yet his eyes, cold and unyielding, offered no insight into the soul behind them. He was a figure of both allure and intimidation, a living testament to strength and resilience.

"Dahlia?" His voice rumbled, still not a single hint of emotion.

I nodded, looking up at him. He must have been about 6,3 tall. "Hi." I managed to say through a whisper, feeling intimidated by him.

Without saying another word, he barged past me and made his way into my apartment. Rude.

"Uhm..who are you?" I said, my voice wobbling embarrassingly.

"Nico." His eyes failed to make contact with mine as he answered.

"Okay, Nico. Why are you in my home?" I tried to sound a little more confident as I questioned him.

"Bodyguard."

Good chat.

Trying to seem friendly and engage in a conversation that included more than one-word answers, I smiled at him, but he didn't look back.

"Okay, so what happens now? Do you just wait here all day, then go home and come back in the morning?" I asked, closing the front door and standing in front of him, hoping to meet his gaze.

He still gave me no eye contact, despite how close I was to him. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, countering his cold expression.

"Your dad told me to stay with you 24/7." His voice spoke in an almost robotic tone.

I bit my lip to stop me from sighing. I had only just gotten used to the feeling of being free, and now it was going to be taken away from me. A mean stranger invading my space.

But I suppose it's not his fault. He just follows his boss's orders.

"Awh, that will be fun." I lied through a plastered grin.

He nodded, still refusing to greet my eyeline. "Hm."

"Okay, uhm.. okay. I'm just gonna go to work, so.. yeah." Stumbling over my words, I went to make my out the door and head off to the bakery, but his hand hit my chest, not intentionally hard, but hard enough to make me stop.

"Your father told me to keep you at home. It's not safe."

"But- I- Why?"

"Because you're fucking tiny and your father told me to look after his 'little girl'. That includes staying at home." He explained. At that moment, something hit me. He just looked at me. When I finally met his warm brown eyes, a stark contrast to his cold demeanour, I felt a surprising depth of emotion in our gaze.

I frowned at him, pouting my lips slightly and pulling myself away from the trance. "But I like my job!"

"What do you do for work?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

"I work in a bakery." To get my point across that I was angry, I folded my arms as I responded.

He paused for a moment before continuing our dialogue, "Okay, well, you can bake here. You have an oven, don't you?" His head gestured to my oven in the kitchen.

Stepping away, I nodded, "Yeah, but it's not the same."

"What do you like to bake?"

"Uhm... cookies and brownies."