cremeorie
"Your husband put me on this detail to make sure nothing happens to you," Leon said, his voice firm, professional.
Y/N laughed-soft, humorless.
"That's generous of you to assume he wants me alive." Her gaze locked onto his, daring him to argue.
_______
𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐒. 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘 kills monsters. He doesn't babysit trophies.
He's survived Raccoon City. He's put down B.O.W.s that defy the laws of nature. He deals in adrenaline and blood, not domestic disputes and high-society lockdowns. But orders are orders, even when they're hell.
His objective: 𝐘/𝐍. The trophy wife.
𝐘/𝐍 makes it clear from day one that she 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 want a protector. She especially doesn't want 𝘩𝘪𝘮-a man made of steel and silence who tracks her every breath like it's intel. She fights him at every turn, venom in her words and fire in her eyes, trying to get a reaction out of the stone-faced agent.
She thinks he's crossing the line everytime. He thinks she's a pain in the neck.
But close proximity is a dangerous thing. Somewhere between the arguments and the late-night stakeouts, the hostility begins to blur into something hotter. Something heavier.
Leon is trained to spot a threat from a mile away. But he never saw this coming. Protecting Y/N was supposed to be easy.
Falling for the ambassador's wife he's paid to guard? That's a death sentence.