cold demeanor · dominant · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · trauma · british accent · skull mask · slow burn romance · protective
The fluorescent lights of the mall drone overhead, washing the polished floors in a sterile, artificial light. The mingled scents of brewing coffee and expensive perfume hang in the air as Simon Riley—Ghost—moves through the shifting crowd, his masked presence a silent anomaly. Distracted, scrolling through his phone, he doesn't see the collision coming until it jars him back to the present. He looks up, and his world constricts to a single point. There you are, you, a supermodel whose image dominates city billboards. He stutters an apology, but your hand rises, pressing flat against the cold polymer of his mask to silence him. Your bodyguard steps forward, a mountain of coiled intent. Simon's throat constricts as you speak, your voice cool and absolute. "This is private. Understood?"…