Always by your side

Vi was stretched out on her couch, one arm slung over her eyes, letting the dull hum of the ceiling fan fill the silence. The apartment was dimly lit, the evening sun casting streaks of burnt orange through the cracks in the blinds. She wasn’t asleep—not really—but she was in that lazy, in-between state where her body was too comfortable to move, and her mind was too tired to care.

A battered paperback rested on her chest, something she had picked up at a secondhand shop weeks ago and only half-read. She wasn’t even sure why she kept trying with it. Maybe because it was there. Maybe because it was easier than thinking too much about the day she’d had. The interview. The ridiculousness of the whole thing.

Her phone buzzed against the coffee table, the screen lighting up the dark wood.

Vi groaned, shifting just enough to glance at the number. Unknown.

She thought about ignoring it. Could be spam. Could be some old contact dredging up past business. But instincts—especially the ones that kept her alive—told her to answer anyway.

She exhaled sharply and picked up.

"Miss Violet?"

The voice was crisp, professional, vaguely familiar.

Vi frowned. “Depends. Who’s asking?”

"It’s Lux. We met earlier today at the interview. I work for Miss Kiramman."

Vi sat up slightly, rubbing a hand over her face. Right. The blonde assistant.

"Right. What’s up?"

"Your assignment starts tonight."

Vi blinked, her exhaustion evaporating just a little. "Tonight?"

"Miss Kiramman has a high-profile event, and your presence is required. Formal attire. You’ll blend in with the guests while ensuring her safety. Be at the Grand Revere Hotel at 9, a car will be waiting to take her to the venue. You’ll accompany her."

Vi ran a hand through her hair, already regretting every choice that led her to this moment. "That’s—" she huffed. "That’s not much notice."

"Welcome to the job," Lux said, entirely unfazed. "Don’t be late."

And just like that, the line went dead.

Vi stared at her phone for a second, letting the silence settle in.

"Well, shit," she muttered.

She pushed herself up from the couch, stretching until her spine popped, then rolled her shoulders. So much for a slow transition into this gig. Not that she should’ve expected anything different.

Her eyes flicked toward her closet, and she already knew this was going to suck. She didn’t own much in the way of formalwear. Didn’t need to. But there was one suit she had buried somewhere—black, tailored, decent enough for a night of pretending she belonged among rich assholes.

Digging it out from the back, she shook off the dust and held it up. The fabric was stiff from years of disuse, the shoulders slightly too snug. But it would do.

She changed quickly, buttoning up the jacket and shifting her weight, rolling her arms to loosen the fit. It felt wrong. Like she was playing dress-up in someone else’s skin. No leather. No boots. No comfort.

Vi caught her own reflection in the mirror—clean lines, sharp angles, a far cry from the bruiser that normally stared back at her.

She adjusted the cuffs, exhaled, and muttered, “Showtime.”

With that, she grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

The Grand Revere Hotel was the kind of place that made people like Vi stand out—and not in a good way. The air smelled of money, of wealth so effortless that it didn’t need to be flaunted, only subtly reinforced in every inch of its design. The lobby was a study in sleek, modern elegance, stretching out before her in towering marble pillars and glistening chandeliers that dripped with warm, golden light. The floor was polished black stone, so pristine it mirrored the movement above, distorting the figures of the wealthy patrons who strolled past in tailored suits and glittering dresses.

Vi stuffed her hands into the pockets of her suit pants, shifting her weight onto one foot as she leaned against a column near the reception desk. Even the damn walls looked expensive, adorned with minimalist art that probably cost more than she’d made in the past year. A few steps away, a group of businessmen lounged in deep leather armchairs, their conversation a low hum over the soft classical music floating from unseen speakers.

Her eyes flicked to the large, gold-rimmed clock mounted above the concierge desk. Right on time.

She rolled her shoulders, resisting the urge to fidget. The stiff fabric of the suit still felt unnatural against her skin, a far cry from the familiar weight of her leather jacket. But the job was the job, and if it meant dressing like she belonged in a place like this, then so be it.

The soft ding of an arriving elevator pulled her attention back to the center of the lobby.

And then—Caitlyn stepped out.

For a moment, Vi forgot what she was doing.

She had known Caitlyn was pretty from the interview, but now? Now, she was stunning.

The navy-blue gown she wore clung to her body in a way that was both elegant and infuriatingly perfect, sculpted to highlight her narrow waist before cascading down in smooth, effortless waves. The deep color contrasted against her porcelain skin, making her seem almost unreal under the golden glow of the chandeliers. The slit along the side of the dress—high enough to be noticed, but not high enough to be scandalous—flashed just a hint of smooth thigh as she walked, the fabric shifting with every movement.

Vi’s eyes flicked to the delicate silver chain resting against her collarbone, a subtle but deliberate choice, catching the light with every breath Caitlyn took. Her hair, dark and sleek, was styled to perfection, swept to one side to reveal the elegant curve of her neck. She moved with the kind of effortless grace that Vi had only ever seen in people born into this kind of world, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

Vi felt something heavy settle in her stomach—something she refused to name.

She dragged her gaze away, jaw tightening slightly as she forced herself to focus. She’s your job, not your problem.

And yet, as Caitlyn glided forward, Vi caught herself staring again, just for a second longer than she should have.

The sound of the elevator doors closing behind Caitlyn pulled Vi out of her daze. She’d been staring a little too long, her thoughts wandering to places she had no business visiting. She forced her gaze down to the floor again, feeling the weight of the moment settle between her ribs. This was her job. She couldn’t afford distractions.

She took a deep breath, just as Caitlyn stepped into the lobby.

Vi was already used to being the one who stood out—tall, imposing, with a certain rawness in her features. But Caitlyn? Caitlyn was the kind of person who didn’t need to do a thing to demand attention. She simply existed, as if the air itself shifted when she entered a room.

Before Vi could pull herself together fully, Caitlyn’s eyes flicked toward her. A knowing look passed between them, and Vi quickly averted her gaze again, clearing her throat. Caitlyn smirked but didn’t say a word. The unspoken understanding lingered for a brief second before Caitlyn’s attention was back on the world around her.

Then a woman appeared beside Caitlyn, like an extension of her—just as poised, just as controlled. She was the twin of Caitlyn in many ways: attention-grabbing beauty and effortless grace, but a commanding presence all the same. She was all sharp angles, sharp eyes. Professional, with an air of ‘don’t cross me’ wrapped around her like armor.

Mel’s gaze flicked to Vi for a moment, unreadable. There was no surprise in her expression—just a silent assessment, as though Vi was one more piece of the puzzle she had to manage tonight.

Vi shifted slightly, preparing for whatever came next, her fingers still tucked into her pockets. This was the part where things got real.

"Miss Violet," Mel said, her tone even and direct, addressing Vi by her full name. "You’re the one keeping Miss Kiramman safe tonight, then?”

Vi nodded, not missing a beat. “That’s right ma’am.”

Mel’s lips curled into a thin smile, but there was no warmth in it. “Good.Im not gonna be there tonight. so, I need you to Keep your distance, but don’t lose sight of her. We have a lot to handle tonight, and it’s your job to make sure Caitlyn stays out of harm’s way and myjob is to assure that you do your job correctly. Follow her every step. Stick to her side if she needs anything she'll have her phone with her and she can call me.”

Vi nodded again, more out of instinct than anything else, her posture stiffening in readiness. But Mel wasn’t done yet.

She lowered her voice, just loud enough for Vi to hear without Caitlyn catching it. “Understood?” Mel’s words were clipped and efficient. “You’re going to stay close, monitor the exits, and make sure no one gets in her personal space. Do your job, and we won’t have problems. Got it?”

Vi swallowed. Her eyes flicked to Caitlyn briefly, then back to Mel. “Got it.”

Mel gave a sharp nod. “Good.” Then, she turned, not wasting a second, leading the way toward the door as Caitlyn began walking toward the exit.

Caitlyn’s heels clicked rhythmically against the polished marble, her back straight as she moved with purpose. Vi’s eyes followed her, but this time, she was careful to keep her distance, as Mel had instructed. It wasn’t hard to focus on Caitlyn's movements—how the slit of her dress revealed just a hint of leg with each step, how the gown shimmered as she moved through the soft glow of the hotel lights.

It was all business now. The only thing that mattered was making sure Caitlyn was safe. The rest—how Caitlyn looked, how Caitlyn moved, what Vi felt—was irrelevant.

As Mel led them out into the cool night air, she turned to Vi again, her eyes locking onto hers. “Two steps behind her always Miss Violet. Watch the crowd. No distractions.” She lowered her voice again, a command now. “And stay alert. Got it?”

Vi gave a firm nod. “Got it.”

They reached the waiting car, sleek, the kind of vehicle that demanded attention without asking for it—black, polished to a mirror shine, with windows tinted so dark they felt like they could swallow the world outside.

Mel approached the car first, her footsteps sharp against the pavement, her body moving with the kind of confidence that came from years of practice. She didn’t even glance at Caitlyn or Vi, already knowing what was expected.

“Miss Violet,” she said curtly, gesturing toward the backseat. No room for argument, no space for hesitation.

Vi didn’t argue, but the sharpness of the command left her with a faint, uncomfortable tension in her chest. She turned toward the backseat, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the car door as she slipped inside. The interior of the car was sleek, a sharp contrast to her own stiff, unfamiliar suit. The leather seats smelled faintly of expensive cologne, and the quiet hum of the engine waiting to start only added to the sterile, uncomfortable air..

Mel, already seated in the front, didn't spare them a glance as she adjusted the rearview mirror. Vi felt Caitlyn's eyes on her for a moment, but she kept her focus on the car, trying to ignore the tension building between them. There was no time to dwell on it. The night was already in motion, and she had to focus on the job.

Caitlyn followed, taking her time, not at all eager to sit beside her bodyguard. Her heels clicked against the ground, a deliberate sound, almost like a protest to the whole situation. The way she moved wasn’t hurried, it wasn't an accident—it was a display of her annoyance, but also an acknowledgment that this was happening whether she liked it or not.

As Vi settled into her seat, Caitlyn shifted subtly, scooting closer to the door and away from Vi, as though the space between them might make the whole situation feel less forced. Vi resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but the discomfort in the air was hard to ignore.

The car door shut with a soft click, sealing them into the stillness. Vi kept her hands folded in her lap, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space. They hadn’t exchanged a word since getting into the car, but Vi could feel Caitlyn’s attention shift toward her now and then. She didn't look at her directly, but Vi caught the way Caitlyn’s eyes flicked toward her, as though weighing her every move.

Vi turned her head slightly, just enough to catch the faintest smirk on Caitlyn's lips. It was brief, but there. Caitlyn wasn’t happy about this, but there was nothing she could do. Vi had her orders.

Mel’s voice cut through the air, low and professional. “Violet,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at the pair of them, her tone flat but commanding. “You’ll be seated beside Caitlyn for all the rides from now on.”

Vi nodded, her eyes meeting Mel’s in the rearview mirror. There was no room for discussion, no space for any back-and-forth. This was happening whether Caitlyn liked it or not.

Caitlyn, who’d been quietly staring out of the window, sighed. It was a small sound, but it carried the weight of her annoyance. “Great,” she muttered, almost under her breath, but loud enough for both of them to hear. “Can’t wait.”

Vi remained silent. She wasn’t going to bite at the comment. No sense in engaging.

“Good,” Mel said, her eyes flicking back to the front as the car began to move, its wheels gliding over the polished streets.

Caitlyn didn’t seem to care much for the arrangement, but she wasn’t making a scene. She stared out the window, her arms folded lightly across her chest, her fingers tapping absentmindedly on her knee.

The ride continued in relative silence, but it was far from comfortable. Vi could feel Caitlyn’s energy shift beside her, the subtle tension radiating off her, but neither of them spoke. Vi’s gaze flicked to Caitlyn every so often, noticing the way the light from the passing city lights caught in her hair, making the sleek strands glisten with an almost unreal glow. But she forced herself to focus, ignoring the strange pull she felt every time her gaze lingered.

Eventually, Mel’s voice came again, cutting through the quiet, this time in a more businesslike tone. “Caitlyn,” she said, looking over her shoulder briefly at her. “You’ll be giving a speech once we arrive, then you’ll do the rounds. You know the drill. We’ll make sure to keep things moving smoothly.”

Caitlyn gave a small nod but didn’t respond verbally. She simply kept her gaze fixed on the passing lights outside the window, her fingers tapping idly against her knee.

Vi’s attention shifted briefly to Mel, who was busy flipping through papers in the front seat, the glow of the dashboard lights illuminating her features. It was then that Mel reached for a file beside her, pulling out a sheet of paper. She turned in her seat, handing the paper back to Vi without saying a word.

Vi glanced at it, her brows furrowing slightly as she held the sheet in her hands. It was a standard NDA—Non-Disclosure Agreement.

She skimmed it quickly. Nothing unusual, just the usual legal mumbo jumbo. She was being asked to sign away her silence on anything related to Caitlyn’s personal life, security arrangements, or anything else that might come up in the course of the evening. She was used to signing these kinds of things for jobs like this, but somehow, this one felt heavier for all the wrong reasons.

Vi glanced at Mel’s expectant face in the rearview mirror. “Sign it,” Mel said, her voice a little sharper now. “We’re about to arrive, and I need that done before we get there.”

Vi hesitated for only a moment before grabbing the pen Mel handed her. She signed the document quickly, barely thinking about the words on the page. She’d signed a hundred of these before. There was no point in questioning it now.

Once she was finished, she handed the paper back to Mel, who tucked it into her folder with a small nod. Caitlyn’s eyes flicked to Vi briefly, but she said nothing. She didn’t seem interested in the process at all, more focused on her thoughts as the city lights began to fade, the car now pulling into the quieter, more exclusive part of town where the event was being held.

As they neared the venue, Caitlyn’s posture seemed to shift again, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as they entered the private drive. But Vi could still feel the quiet undercurrent of discomfort between them.

The car stopped outside a sleek, modern building with shimmering lights reflecting off its glass exterior. The event had begun.

The moment Vi stepped into the mansion, her senses sharpened. The venue was a masterpiece of excess—vaulted ceilings stretched high above them, adorned with intricate gold moldings that caught the soft glow of towering chandeliers. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, mingling with the faintest trace of polished wood and champagne. Laughter and conversation floated through the space, layered over the delicate notes of a live quartet playing somewhere out of sight.

Vi kept her distance, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. This wasn’t just a party—it was a maze of potential risks.

Her gaze swept the room, cataloging every detail.

Exits first. The grand double doors behind them were the main point of entry and exit, guarded by a pair of uniformed security personnel—hired for the event, not professionals, judging by their loose stances and casual scanning of the crowd. Sloppy.Past the gilded archways leading deeper into the mansion, she spotted a second exit—a set of sleek glass doors leading to the garden terrace. They were slightly ajar, allowing a breeze to roll in, shifting the soft white drapes framing them. No security posted there. Not great.

The emergency exits? She clocked one near the far side of the room, barely noticeable, blending seamlessly into the dark paneling. A quick glance at the ceiling confirmed smoke detectors but no visible sprinklers—older building, likely had its own fire suppression system.

Time check. Three seconds to the glass doors. Five to the emergency exit if she moved fast. Eight if she had to push past people to reach the balcony. Ten if she needed to fight through resistance.

Noted.

The security team was present but unremarkable—men in black suits stationed near key points of entry, scanning the crowd with a little too much ease. They weren’t expecting trouble. That was a mistake.

Vi kept a loose three-meter distance behind Caitlyn as they moved deeper into the ballroom, her hands resting at her sides, her gaze constantly shifting. The crowd was a blend of politicians, industry moguls, and the kind of people who had more power in a single signature than most had in a lifetime. Vi recognized the type. Most of them were here to be seen, to exchange hollow pleasantries over delicate flutes of champagne.

Caitlyn, however, belonged here.

She was effortless in the way she carried herself, moving through the space like it was hers, smiling at guests, exchanging greetings with an ease that Vi couldn’t relate to. There was something precise about it—measured, controlled. Even the way she tilted her head slightly when listening to someone spoke of refinement, like she had been trained to charm without seeming like she was trying.

Vi kept her focus on Caitlyn’s surroundings, but every now and then, she couldn’t help but notice the finer details—the way the soft lighting caught on Caitlyn’s cheekbones, the shimmer of the silver chain resting against her collarbone, the way the navy-blue fabric of her gown moved with every calculated step.

Then Caitlyn turned.

Vi had been watching too long.

Their eyes met, and Caitlyn’s lips twitched—just slightly, just enough to let Vi know she’d been caught. A single brow arched in silent amusement, her smirk almost imperceptible.

Vi looked away first, jaw tightening slightly as she redirected her attention back to the crowd.

Caitlyn didn’t say anything, but Vi felt her gaze linger, watching. Testing.

Then, deliberately, Caitlyn shifted her stance, just a fraction. Vi adjusted on instinct, stepping to the side to maintain her position.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. “Is this how it’s going to be all night?”

Vi didn’t respond.

Caitlyn swirled the champagne in her glass, irritation creeping into her voice. “You’re really going to follow my every move, aren’t you?”

Vi’s face remained neutral, but there was the barest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

Caitlyn sighed, taking a slow sip of her drink before murmuring, “Unbelievable.”

Vi said nothing, but as Caitlyn turned back toward the guests, Vi caught the small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

She was enjoying this.

Vi kept her distance, but she never stopped watching.

Caitlyn moved effortlessly from one conversation to the next, her champagne glass never empty, her expression shifting between polite interest and well-practiced charm. She laughed at the right moments, nodded in understanding, let her gaze linger just long enough to make someone feel important before moving on to the next exchange.

Vi, on the other hand, was not interested in the chatter. She kept her focus on the exits, the staff, the flow of the crowd. The servers moved in tight, choreographed formations, refilling glasses with quiet efficiency. Some of them wore in-ear communication devices, likely linked to the event staff. None of them carried themselves like a threat.

The guests? That was another story.

A man in a gray suit near the piano had been watching Caitlyn a little too closely. Not in the usual way—most people in this room looked at Caitlyn with admiration or envy. This was different. His gaze didn’t drift; it was locked onto her, studying.

Vi didn’t move right away. She just adjusted her stance, keeping him in her periphery as she scanned for anything that stood out. No bulge at the waist, no sign of a concealed weapon, nothing in his hands. But there was an intensity in his eyes that she didn’t like.

Caitlyn, unaware or unbothered, carried on, gracefully accepting another greeting from an older woman in an emerald dress. She was deep in conversation when Vi finally stepped closer—not by much, but enough to make it known.

It didn’t take long.

The moment the man in the gray suit noticed her proximity, he shifted. He turned, muttered something to another guest, and moved toward the bar.

Vi followed him with her eyes, watching as he picked up a drink, leaned against the counter, and pretended to be interested in something across the room.

Noted.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, had turned slightly, catching the movement in her periphery. Her lips parted like she was about to say something—maybe another remark about Vi hovering—but then she followed Vi’s line of sight and seemed to reconsider.

For a brief moment, her expression changed. Not much, but enough. A flicker of understanding.

Then, just as quickly, she turned back to the conversation at hand, as if nothing had happened.

Vi stayed put.

The music changed, shifting to a slower, softer tempo. More guests gravitated toward the center of the room, some making their way to the polished wooden dance floor while others lingered near the balcony doors, drawn to the cool night air. The movement was natural, but it gave Vi more to keep track of.

She swept her gaze across the room again. No new threats. No signs of trouble. For now.

Caitlyn, now standing by a lavishly decorated dessert table, let out a sigh before taking another sip of champagne. Her patience for this event was clearly thinning.

“You could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Vi to hear.

Vi, as always, didn’t respond.

Caitlyn huffed, setting her glass down a little harder than necessary before turning back toward the mingling guests.

Vi remained exactly where she was.

Still watching. Still waiting.

The night dragged on, and Caitlyn was starting to feel it.

She had mastered the art of smiling through exhaustion, of keeping her shoulders squared and her tone effortlessly charming even when she was minutes away from losing patience. It was a skill she’d perfected after years of dealing with people she couldn’t stand—industry executives, fake friends, greedy opportunists.

But this?

This was testing her.

She could feel Vi’s presence at her back like an unwanted shadow. The silent, ever-present weight of her watching. Every time Caitlyn turned, there she was—never too close, never too far, always in the exact spot to keep her within reach. Always there.

It was driving her insane.

At first, she ignored it. It’s her job, she told herself. This is what you signed up for. But as the night went on, the irritation seeped in like a slow burn, wearing down her patience one glance at a time, why the fuck did she really agree with mel in this.

By the time she reached the main ballroom again, she’d had enough.

Stopping near a long table lined with untouched hors d'oeuvres, Caitlyn grabbed another champagne flute from a passing waiter and turned just enough to face Vi.

"Do you have to be this close?" she muttered under her breath, lifting the glass to her lips.

Vi, standing just a step behind her, didn’t react.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. “I mean, I get it. You have a job to do. But you’re really going to follow my every move?i won't tell anyone if you go to the bar and loose up a bit neither i would get mad, just leave my sight”

Silence.

Caitlyn turned fully now, tilting her head just slightly. "Not even going to say anything? Or is this part of the whole bodyguard act?”

Nothing.

Vi wasn’t even looking at her. Her gaze had shifted slightly over Caitlyn’s shoulder, scanning the room again, sharp and unreadable.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. She hated being ignored.

Her lips pressed together as she swirled the champagne in her glass, pretending to focus on the bubbles rising to the surface. Fine. If she wants to play the silent game, let her.

Instead of engaging further, Caitlyn turned back toward the room, shifting her weight slightly onto one foot. She took her time with her drink, forcing herself to exhale slowly through her nose.

But she still felt Vi there. The same unshakable presence at her back.

Five more minutes passed.

Then ten.

Another conversation, another introduction, another dull exchange with a business mogul she’d met three times already but who still greeted her like they were long-lost friends. Caitlyn kept the conversation going, nodding at the right moments, laughing lightly when necessary.

But this time, when she shifted her stance, she did it deliberately—stepping just slightly into Vi’s space. Testing.

No reaction.

A muscle in Caitlyn’s jaw twitched.

She exhaled again, pushing a hand through her sleek hair before making a sudden, sharp turn toward the balcony. If Vi was going to follow her every damn step, let her keep up.

The cool night air hit her skin as she stepped outside, the chatter of the party dulling behind her. The balcony stretched wide, lined with ornate railings and lanterns casting a soft golden glow. A few guests lingered near the edge, chatting in hushed voices, but otherwise, it was quiet.

Perfect.

Caitlyn gripped the stone railing, tapping her fingers against the smooth surface.

A full five seconds passed before she felt it.

The shift. The quiet footfalls behind her.

She didn’t have to turn to know Vi was there.

A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "You really don’t quit, do you?" she muttered, voice lower now.

Vi didn’t respond. Not a word, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Just the quiet sound of her presence, a weight that Caitlyn couldn’t ignore. The silence stretched between them, heavy, but Caitlyn didn’t break it.

She was used to being the center of attention. Used to people looking at her like she was some fragile thing to protect. But Vi wasn’t like the others, wasn’t here to fawn over her. And that was what bothered her the most.

The words hung in the air, but still, no answer. Vi just stood, her posture unshaken, the same quiet vigilance. Caitlyn felt a twinge of irritation—who was this woman, really?

Finally, Caitlyn turned, her eyes narrowing. “What’s your deal? I've already allowed it,go to the bar and leave me alone for god sake” she muttered, though the words weren’t really directed at Vi. It was more of a question she’d been asking herself for the last hour.

Vi met her gaze, her face unreadable, but Caitlyn could feel the weight of her attention. She could feel how much Vi didn’t care about her drama, her irritation, her little show of defiance. It was just business to her.

Caitlyn shook her head, exhaling through her nose. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

She expected Vi to respond, to bite back, but instead, there was just... nothing. Caitlyn’s mouth twitched, unsure whether to be frustrated or impressed. Maybe both.

The silence stretched on, and Caitlyn felt herself starting to get more irritated. She shifted her weight, tapping her fingers against the railing, trying to figure out why Vi’s quiet was rubbing her the wrong way. Was it the control? The fact that she couldn’t shake her? The way Vi seemed completely unmoved by her?

Finally, Caitlyn pushed off the railing, straightening up. “Fine. You don’t want to talk. Whatever. It’s your job, right?”

Still, no answer.

Caitlyn glanced back at her, but only for a second. Vi was still there, still watching. Caitlyn’s gaze flicked to the ground, then back up at the city skyline, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being... too watched.

She shifted again, this time more aggressively. “You know, I’m not some fragile little thing, you don’t need to hover over me. I don't care what kind of nonsense Mel told you I'm the boss here,leave me now.”

Vi didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t shift her stance. Nothing.

And Caitlyn felt the frustration grow, the sting of it creeping up her spine. Was she really just... here for this? To be the one who stayed quiet, who didn’t even look like she cared?

She let out a soft laugh, more from disbelief than anything else. “Whatever,” Caitlyn muttered, glancing at her watch, already tired of the game. “Let’s just get back inside.”

The moment Vi stepped into the mansion, her senses sharpened. The venue was a masterpiece of excess—vaulted ceilings stretched high above them, adorned with intricate gold moldings that caught the soft glow of towering chandeliers. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, mingling with the faintest trace of polished wood and champagne. Laughter and conversation floated through the space, layered over the delicate notes of a live quartet playing somewhere out of sight.

Vi kept her distance, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. This wasn’t just a party—it was a maze of potential risks.

Her gaze swept the room, cataloging every detail.

Exits first. The grand double doors behind them were the main point of entry and exit, guarded by a pair of uniformed security personnel—hired for the event, not professionals, judging by their loose stances and casual scanning of the crowd. Sloppy.Past the gilded archways leading deeper into the mansion, she spotted a second exit—a set of sleek glass doors leading to the garden terrace. They were slightly ajar, allowing a breeze to roll in, shifting the soft white drapes framing them. No security posted there. Not great.

The emergency exits? She clocked one near the far side of the room, barely noticeable, blending seamlessly into the dark paneling. A quick glance at the ceiling confirmed smoke detectors but no visible sprinklers—older building, likely had its own fire suppression system.

Time check. Three seconds to the glass doors. Five to the emergency exit if she moved fast. Eight if she had to push past people to reach the balcony. Ten if she needed to fight through resistance.

Noted.

The security team was present but unremarkable—men in black suits stationed near key points of entry, scanning the crowd with a little too much ease. They weren’t expecting trouble. That was a mistake.

Vi kept a loose three-meter distance behind Caitlyn as they moved deeper into the ballroom, her hands resting at her sides, her gaze constantly shifting. The crowd was a blend of politicians, industry moguls, and the kind of people who had more power in a single signature than most had in a lifetime. Vi recognized the type. Most of them were here to be seen, to exchange hollow pleasantries over delicate flutes of champagne.

Caitlyn, however, belonged here.

She was effortless in the way she carried herself, moving through the space like it was hers, smiling at guests, exchanging greetings with an ease that Vi couldn’t relate to. There was something precise about it—measured, controlled. Even the way she tilted her head slightly when listening to someone spoke of refinement, like she had been trained to charm without seeming like she was trying.

Vi kept her focus on Caitlyn’s surroundings, but every now and then, she couldn’t help but notice the finer details—the way the soft lighting caught on Caitlyn’s cheekbones, the shimmer of the silver chain resting against her collarbone, the way the navy-blue fabric of her gown moved with every calculated step.

Then Caitlyn turned.

Vi had been watching too long.

Their eyes met, and Caitlyn’s lips twitched—just slightly, just enough to let Vi know she’d been caught. A single brow arched in silent amusement, her smirk almost imperceptible.

Vi looked away first, jaw tightening slightly as she redirected her attention back to the crowd.

Caitlyn didn’t say anything, but Vi felt her gaze linger, watching. Testing.

Then, deliberately, Caitlyn shifted her stance, just a fraction. Vi adjusted on instinct, stepping to the side to maintain her position.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. “Is this how it’s going to be all night?”

Vi didn’t respond.

Caitlyn swirled the champagne in her glass, irritation creeping into her voice. “You’re really going to follow my every move, aren’t you?”

Vi’s face remained neutral, but there was the barest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

Caitlyn sighed, taking a slow sip of her drink before murmuring, “Unbelievable.”

Vi said nothing, but as Caitlyn turned back toward the guests, Vi caught the small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

She was enjoying this.

Vi kept her distance, but she never stopped watching.

Caitlyn moved effortlessly from one conversation to the next, her champagne glass never empty, her expression shifting between polite interest and well-practiced charm. She laughed at the right moments, nodded in understanding, let her gaze linger just long enough to make someone feel important before moving on to the next exchange.

Vi, on the other hand, was not interested in the chatter. She kept her focus on the exits, the staff, the flow of the crowd. The servers moved in tight, choreographed formations, refilling glasses with quiet efficiency. Some of them wore in-ear communication devices, likely linked to the event staff. None of them carried themselves like a threat.

The guests? That was another story.

A man in a gray suit near the piano had been watching Caitlyn a little too closely. Not in the usual way—most people in this room looked at Caitlyn with admiration or envy. This was different. His gaze didn’t drift; it was locked onto her, studying.

Vi didn’t move right away. She just adjusted her stance, keeping him in her periphery as she scanned for anything that stood out. No bulge at the waist, no sign of a concealed weapon, nothing in his hands. But there was an intensity in his eyes that she didn’t like.

Caitlyn, unaware or unbothered, carried on, gracefully accepting another greeting from an older woman in an emerald dress. She was deep in conversation when Vi finally stepped closer—not by much, but enough to make it known.

It didn’t take long.

The moment the man in the gray suit noticed her proximity, he shifted. He turned, muttered something to another guest, and moved toward the bar.

Vi followed him with her eyes, watching as he picked up a drink, leaned against the counter, and pretended to be interested in something across the room.

Noted.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, had turned slightly, catching the movement in her periphery. Her lips parted like she was about to say something—maybe another remark about Vi hovering—but then she followed Vi’s line of sight and seemed to reconsider.

For a brief moment, her expression changed. Not much, but enough. A flicker of understanding.

Then, just as quickly, she turned back to the conversation at hand, as if nothing had happened.

Vi stayed put.

The music changed, shifting to a slower, softer tempo. More guests gravitated toward the center of the room, some making their way to the polished wooden dance floor while others lingered near the balcony doors, drawn to the cool night air. The movement was natural, but it gave Vi more to keep track of.

She swept her gaze across the room again. No new threats. No signs of trouble. For now.

Caitlyn, now standing by a lavishly decorated dessert table, let out a sigh before taking another sip of champagne. Her patience for this event was clearly thinning.

“You could at least pretend to be enjoying yourself,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Vi to hear.

Vi, as always, didn’t respond.

Caitlyn huffed, setting her glass down a little harder than necessary before turning back toward the mingling guests.

Vi remained exactly where she was.

Still watching. Still waiting.

The night dragged on, and Caitlyn was starting to feel it.

She had mastered the art of smiling through exhaustion, of keeping her shoulders squared and her tone effortlessly charming even when she was minutes away from losing patience. It was a skill she’d perfected after years of dealing with people she couldn’t stand—industry executives, fake friends, greedy opportunists.

But this?

This was testing her.

She could feel Vi’s presence at her back like an unwanted shadow. The silent, ever-present weight of her watching. Every time Caitlyn turned, there she was—never too close, never too far, always in the exact spot to keep her within reach. Always there.

It was driving her insane.

At first, she ignored it. It’s her job, she told herself. This is what you signed up for. But as the night went on, the irritation seeped in like a slow burn, wearing down her patience one glance at a time, why the fuck did she really agree with mel in this.

By the time she reached the main ballroom again, she’d had enough.

Stopping near a long table lined with untouched hors d'oeuvres, Caitlyn grabbed another champagne flute from a passing waiter and turned just enough to face Vi.

"Do you have to be this close?" she muttered under her breath, lifting the glass to her lips.

Vi, standing just a step behind her, didn’t react.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. “I mean, I get it. You have a job to do. But you’re really going to follow my every move?i won't tell anyone if you go to the bar and loose up a bit neither i would get mad, just leave my sight”

Silence.

Caitlyn turned fully now, tilting her head just slightly. "Not even going to say anything? Or is this part of the whole bodyguard act?”

Nothing.

Vi wasn’t even looking at her. Her gaze had shifted slightly over Caitlyn’s shoulder, scanning the room again, sharp and unreadable.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. She hated being ignored.

Her lips pressed together as she swirled the champagne in her glass, pretending to focus on the bubbles rising to the surface. Fine. If she wants to play the silent game, let her.

Instead of engaging further, Caitlyn turned back toward the room, shifting her weight slightly onto one foot. She took her time with her drink, forcing herself to exhale slowly through her nose.

But she still felt Vi there. The same unshakable presence at her back.

Five more minutes passed.

Then ten.

Another conversation, another introduction, another dull exchange with a business mogul she’d met three times already but who still greeted her like they were long-lost friends. Caitlyn kept the conversation going, nodding at the right moments, laughing lightly when necessary.

But this time, when she shifted her stance, she did it deliberately—stepping just slightly into Vi’s space. Testing.

No reaction.

A muscle in Caitlyn’s jaw twitched.

She exhaled again, pushing a hand through her sleek hair before making a sudden, sharp turn toward the balcony. If Vi was going to follow her every damn step, let her keep up.

The cool night air hit her skin as she stepped outside, the chatter of the party dulling behind her. The balcony stretched wide, lined with ornate railings and lanterns casting a soft golden glow. A few guests lingered near the edge, chatting in hushed voices, but otherwise, it was quiet.

Perfect.

Caitlyn gripped the stone railing, tapping her fingers against the smooth surface.

A full five seconds passed before she felt it.

The shift. The quiet footfalls behind her.

She didn’t have to turn to know Vi was there.

A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "You really don’t quit, do you?" she muttered, voice lower now.

Vi didn’t respond. Not a word, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Just the quiet sound of her presence, a weight that Caitlyn couldn’t ignore. The silence stretched between them, heavy, but Caitlyn didn’t break it.

She was used to being the center of attention. Used to people looking at her like she was some fragile thing to protect. But Vi wasn’t like the others, wasn’t here to fawn over her. And that was what bothered her the most.

The words hung in the air, but still, no answer. Vi just stood, her posture unshaken, the same quiet vigilance. Caitlyn felt a twinge of irritation—who was this woman, really?

Finally, Caitlyn turned, her eyes narrowing. “What’s your deal? I've already allowed it,go to the bar and leave me alone for god sake” she muttered, though the words weren’t really directed at Vi. It was more of a question she’d been asking herself for the last hour.

Vi met her gaze, her face unreadable, but Caitlyn could feel the weight of her attention. She could feel how much Vi didn’t care about her drama, her irritation, her little show of defiance. It was just business to her.

Caitlyn shook her head, exhaling through her nose. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

She expected Vi to respond, to bite back, but instead, there was just... nothing. Caitlyn’s mouth twitched, unsure whether to be frustrated or impressed. Maybe both.

The silence stretched on, and Caitlyn felt herself starting to get more irritated. She shifted her weight, tapping her fingers against the railing, trying to figure out why Vi’s quiet was rubbing her the wrong way. Was it the control? The fact that she couldn’t shake her? The way Vi seemed completely unmoved by her?

Finally, Caitlyn pushed off the railing, straightening up. “Fine. You don’t want to talk. Whatever. It’s your job, right?”

Still, no answer.

Caitlyn glanced back at her, but only for a second. Vi was still there, still watching. Caitlyn’s gaze flicked to the ground, then back up at the city skyline, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being... too watched.

She shifted again, this time more aggressively. “You know, I’m not some fragile little thing, you don’t need to hover over me. I don't care what kind of nonsense Mel told you I'm the boss here,leave me now.”

Vi didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t shift her stance. Nothing.

And Caitlyn felt the frustration grow, the sting of it creeping up her spine. Was she really just... here for this? To be the one who stayed quiet, who didn’t even look like she cared?

She let out a soft laugh, more from disbelief than anything else. “Whatever,” Caitlyn muttered, glancing at her watch, already tired of the game. “Let’s just get back inside.”

Caitlyn was steady on her feet, but only just. The warmth from the champagne had settled in her veins, dulling the sharper edges of the night. Her movements were still graceful, still poised, but Vi had spent enough time watching her to notice the slight sway when she turned, the way her fingers gripped the stem of her empty glass just a fraction too tightly before setting it down on a passing tray.

Vi’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like it. The crowd was still thick, the music a little louder, the air heavier with expensive perfume and idle chatter. Too many people. Too many risks. And Caitlyn, for all her I'm perfectly fine attitude, was letting her guard down.

Vi moved in closer, her voice low but firm. “Miss Caitlyn, I'm sorry but I think We should go.”

Caitlyn shot her a glance, her brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

Vi nodded toward the exit. “You’ve had enough for tonight. Time to head back.”

Caitlyn let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. “You’ve decided that now, have you?”

Vi stood just a few steps away, her patience wearing thin as she watched Caitlyn struggle to maintain some semblance of composure. Caitlyn’s eyes were glassy now, the defiant spark flickering just behind her somewhat tipsy smile. Still, she held the phone close to her chest like it was a shield, her grip tight, fingers curling protectively around it.

“Miss Caitlyn,” Vi said, her voice measured, “please. Give me the phone. We need to leave.”

Caitlyn cocked her head to one side, giving Vi a look that was a mix of confusion and mild amusement, like she couldn’t understand why Vi was pushing so hard. “What, you gonna take my phone too? What is this, Violet, now you can talk?” She scoffed, but there was a nervous laugh behind her words, a sign that the alcohol had already begun to dull her usual sharpness.

Vi stepped forward, unwavering. “I’m trying to keep you safe. If you don’t want to leave, I’ll call your manager and let her know what's going on.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed, and her lips twisted into a stubborn frown. “You’re really going to call Mel? You’re just—” she broke off, pointing at Vi with a wobble in her stance, “You’re just doing what she says now? Im the one who hired you Violet” She tilted her chin up slightly, the movement unsteady. She tried to stand tall, to regain some dignity, but the alcohol made it impossible.

Vi’s fingers twitched, still holding out her hand for the phone. Her patience was on the edge. “Miss Caitlyn, this isn’t the time—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Caitlyn snapped, cutting her off with a sharpness that didn’t match her inebriated state. Her tone was more clipped now, like a tantrum simmering beneath the surface. She held the phone out in front of her, glaring at Vi. 

Vi’s eyes flickered over Caitlyn’s face. This was not the same confident woman she had seen earlier—this was a version of Caitlyn that was unraveling, fighting against a sense of control that she clearly didn’t have tonight. Her movements were more erratic now, her once sharp composure slipping as she reached for her bag, letting it fall to the floor again with a small, defeated noise.

Vi’s fingers moved quickly to pick it up, more out of instinct than anything else, as Caitlyn wobbled in front of her, still holding that stubborn, infuriating glare.

“Stop acting like you’re in charge,” Caitlyn muttered. “You’re my bodyguard, Violet, not my boss.” She leaned against the bar, holding herself up only just, her movements clumsy but purposeful.

Vi didn’t respond immediately. She just watched Caitlyn, watching the way she stumbled, her defensiveness getting louder. It wasn’t safe, and it was clear Caitlyn wasn’t seeing that. Something about her posture was off, the tipsy bravado masking the fact that she was in no condition to stay at the party, and Vi’s instincts kicked in.

Without warning, Vi reached out and grabbed Caitlyn’s wrist, the one that was still clutching the phone, but Caitlyn yanked it back almost immediately, her face flush with frustration. “Don’t touch me, Violet,” she spat, voice slurred with the alcohol still coursing through her. “You can’t just grab me like that.”

“I need your phone Ma’am,” Vi said, her tone much firmer now, her fingers steady even as Caitlyn twisted away, swatting her hand out of the way.

“Stop it!” Caitlyn shouted, but there was no real strength behind her words, just a crack in the facade she was trying to hold up. “I said no! You don’t get to call anyone. You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

Vi’s patience was finally running out, and in one quick, calculated motion, she grabbed the phone from Caitlyn’s hand, snatching it out of her grip before Caitlyn had a chance to pull away. The phone was now in her hand, and Caitlyn’s eyes shot wide open, as if seeing the world turn against her in that instant.

“No!” Caitlyn exclaimed, trying to reach for it, but her movements were too slow, too clumsy. She looked at Vi, furious, confused, but also a little lost. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t do that, Violet. I’m the one who’s in charge here, not you!”

Vi unlocked the phone quickly, ignoring Caitlyn’s protests as she scrolled through the contact list. There was no time to be gentle about this. She didn’t care about Caitlyn’s bratty behavior, They needed to leave if she wants to keep this job.

She pressed the call button for Mel, knowing that she would understand the gravity of the situation even if Caitlyn didn’t.

The phone rang, and Caitlyn, still seething, took a step back. “I can’t believe you, Violet. This is ridiculous.” Her voice was laced with alcohol, but there was a touch of something else too—a hint of frustration, maybe fear that she didn’t want to admit.

The phone picked up. Mel’s voice was immediate, sharp, and filled with the familiar concern Vi had come to expect. “Cait? What 's going on?”

Vi moved a little further from Caitlyn, keeping her voice low so that Caitlyn couldn’t hear every word. “It's Violet, She’s not okay. She’s drunk, and she won’t leave. I need to get her out of here. She’s refusing to listen to me. I don’t know what to do.”

Mel’s sigh came through the phone loud and clear, heavy with exasperation. “I knew it. I knew she was going to put you to the test as soon as I wasn’t there. You need to get her out Now. ill Call the car. You’re not letting her stay there for another minute. Don’t let her wander off.”

Vi looked at Caitlyn, who was now pacing in frustration, muttering under her breath, clearly still trying to hold on to some sense of control. “I’m on it,” Vi said, hanging up and walking over to Caitlyn, who was still fighting every step.

“Come on, Miss Caitlyn. It’s time to go,” Vi said, her voice steady as she took Caitlyn’s arm, trying to guide her toward the exit.

Caitlyn yanked her arm back with a sudden force, glaring at Vi. “I’m not leaving. I’m not a child, Violet. You can’t make me!”

Vi locked eyes with Caitlyn, no longer moved by the tantrum. “You’re not in charge right now, Miss Caitlyn. Let’s go.”

The hum of the engine filled the silence between them as the SUV pulled away from the venue, merging smoothly into the late-night traffic. Vi had expected Caitlyn to sulk, maybe throw a few pointed glares her way before scrolling through her phone in silence. Instead, out of the corner of her eye, Vi caught movement—Caitlyn shifting in her seat, reaching down to rummage through a bag at her feet.

Vi didn’t think much of it at first, keeping her gaze forward, but then Caitlyn let out a soft sigh and, without hesitation, pulled at the fabric of her dress.

Vi blinked.

She wasn’t just adjusting it. She was removing it.

Caitlyn was pulling the dress down, inch by inch, her fingers tugging it over her shoulders, revealing the soft curve of her back as the fabric pooled at her waist. Vi’s throat tightened, but she refused to look, her grip on the armrest tightening as she kept her focus on the road.

It’s her job. She’s not here to care about Caitlyn’s wardrobe choices.

Still, the faint sound of fabric sliding off skin sent a weird knot into her stomach.

Vi kept her gaze ahead, trying desperately to ignore the sudden feeling of discomfort that had settled between them

Caitlyn, meanwhile, was entirely unbothered. As if stripping down in the backseat of a moving car with another person sitting less than a foot away was the most normal thing in the world. She kicked off her heels next, sighing in relief before reaching again for the oversized hoodie she had fished out of her bag.

Vi risked a glance, her face blank but her brow slightly furrowed.

Caitlyn caught the look immediately.

“Oh, please,” she huffed, pulling the hoodie over her head. “Don’t give me that.”

Vi’s jaw tightened at the sound of her voice. She didn’t answer, her eyes still glued to the road.

“Are you really shocked by this?” Caitlyn continued, now adjusting the hoodie to settle more comfortably around her. “You’re going to have to get used to it. I change outfits at least four times a day, and I hate staying in those dresses longer than I have to. This is standard practice.”

Vi glanced at Caitlyn, her gaze betraying her irritation, but she didn’t comment. She was trained to remain professional—her job wasn’t to judge Caitlyn’s actions.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “Are you seriously scandalized right now? Oh my god you're blushing”

Vi didn’t respond.

“Oh, come on,” Caitlyn said, shaking her head as she crossed her arms, clearly amused. “Are you really that uptight? I’ve got to change out of this thing before I suffocate. You should get used to seeing me in comfy clothes now and then.”

Vi bit the inside of her cheek, but she didn’t argue. She just exhaled through her nose, keeping her eyes focused on the road ahead, though her body remained tense and her cheeks flushed.

Caitlyn let out an exaggerated sigh as she adjusted the hoodie again, settling back against the seat. "Seriously, you’re acting like I’ve just stripped naked or something." She paused, her lips curving into a smirk. "Maybe next time I’ll throw on a full-on bathrobe and see how you handle it."

Vi didn’t react. She simply adjusted her grip on the seat fighting the urge to glance at Caitlyn again.

The silence stretched between them, but this time, it felt different—less comfortable. Vi was hyper-aware of Caitlyn’s presence beside her, of how Caitlyn shifted and moved in her seat, of the small hums of her voice when she muttered something to herself. The rhythm of the drive seemed to make time slow down.

The SUV came to a smooth stop in front of the hotel, and Caitlyn pushed open the door. She stepped out, smoothing the hoodie down over her thighs. Vi followed behind, closing the door with a soft click.

Caitlyn paused before walking into the hotel, glancing back over her shoulder at Vi.

“You better be here in the morning," she said, her voice suddenly sharp, a challenge hidden beneath her words. “I’m going to assess everything—the night, your behavior... And let’s see if you can actually do your job properly.”

Vi gave a small, nonchalant nod, but didn’t speak.

Caitlyn smirked again, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "See you in the morning, bodyguard."

Vi stayed silent as she followed Caitlyn into the hotel, her posture as professional as ever. But inside, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her gut.