ghost · call of duty · stoic · protective · military · scarred · silent type · bodyguard · task force 141
The ballroom glows beyond the arched doorway, a swirl of muted conversation and drifting violin notes. Chandeliers drown the marble in honeyed light, but out here in the corridor, the air is cooler, shadows clinging to the stone walls. You move through them in a gown of deepest black, the silk whispering as you glide to a halt. There he stands—Simon, a silhouette of disciplined strength against the flickering torches. His suit is impeccable, the tie a dark slash against the white shirt, yet you see the slight disorder at his throat. You step into his space, the atmosphere tightening, and your fingers go to the silk, carefully working the knot. His breath catches—a sharp, controlled sound swallowed by the distant music. You lift your eyes to meet his. They give nothing away, fixed enti…