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Chapter
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Cole Fay?
He was effortlessly handso, sitting there in a sleek, all-black ensemble. His casual long-sleeve V-neck shirt and tailored pants clung perfectly to his lean, athletic fra, exuding understated luxury.
A limited-edition Patek Philippe watch glead subtly on his wrist, hinting at his wealth without being overt.
His face, sharp and flawless, looked as fresh as the morning dew—clean, smooth, and invigorating. But it was his eyes, icy and frosty, that commanded attention. They were cold, distant, like they held the world at arm's length.
Yet when our gazes t, sothing shifted. That coldness thawed, his eyes softening, and a small, unexpected smile blossod on his lips, as if I'd cracked through his frosty exterior just by looking at him.
For a mont, it felt like he owned the room.
What's he doing here?
What's going on here?
I ignored him, and tossed my hair over my shoulder and gave a half-hearted wave. "I see you have a guest, Grandfather. I'll leave you two to talk. I'll just be in my room."
I didn't care why Cole was here. It had to be sothing about business or whatever they usually talked about. That's all it ever was with him.
"Sit down, Eve," Sinclair said in that unmistakable, no-nonsense tone of his.
I froze mid-step, turning slowly back toward them, my brows knitting together in confusion. "Why?"
He didn't bother explaining. Instead, he gestured toward the chair beside Cole. The one directly beside him.
Yeah, no. Absolutely not.
I marched over and chose the furthest seat from Cole, who was as unreadable as ever.
Sebastian stood from beside Sinclair and went to lay down on my feet much to Sinclair's obvious annoyance.
"So, is there sothing you need to tell ?" I asked, folding my arms with a huff.
Sinclair exhaled, a sound that always seed to co before sothing I wasn't going to like. "Didn't I ntion? It's ti I introduced you to your new bodyguard."
I blinked, then glanced between him and Cole, slowly piecing together the aning of that statent.
Oh no. No, no, no. Not in a thousand years.
"The head of your security detail," Sinclair said with far too much calm, "will be none other than Cole Fay."
I shot up from the chair as if I'd been electrocuted. "I
OBJECT
!"
Cole barely lifted an eyebrow, the sa stone-faced expression plastered on his annoyingly perfect face.
Sinclair, on the other hand, seed entirely amused by my outburst. Of course he was.
"Sit down," he said, completely unfazed.
Reluctantly, I sank back into the chair, glaring daggers at him. "Old man—"
"Grandfather," he corrected with a stern gaze.
"
Grandfather
," I bit out, my frustration clear in every syllable.
I had so many argunts ready, but they all jumbled in my head like a ss of words that couldn't make it out of my mouth fast enough.
In the end, I could only manage a spluttered, "He can't be my bodyguard!"
Sinclair calmly sipped his tea, not even looking at . "And why not?"
"
Why
not
?!" I nearly shouted, the absurdity of the situation sending into overdrive. "He's a
Fay
! He's the one who should need protecting!"
Sinclair didn't even blink. "Didn't I tell you I'd get the best bodyguard in the world? And who has the best security and military force in the world? No one but the Fays."
He had a point, but still—
no
. "You can't be serious," I said, exasperated.
He raised one eyebrow, dead serious now. "I am always serious about these things. And let remind you, when you got kidnapped, it was the Fays who found you first even without that tracking device on you."
I opened my mouth, then closed it, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. That was
not
the point, but it also . . . was the point.
I knew the Fays were more than just wealthy powerhouses—they secretly trained spies and assassins.
Only the elite few knew about it, and one of those families was the Rosettes.
"Still, there are so many agencies out there. Why hire a
Fay
?" I argued, barely keeping my frustration in check. "If sothing happens to him, we'll be liable to the Fays. That's a terrible idea."
Cole, unbothered as ever, responded in that cold, even tone. "I've already spoken to my mother and father about this. They've signed a non-disclosure agreent stating that if anything happens to , neither the Rosettes nor you or Sinclair will be held responsible for my decisions."
Of course, he did.
His face remained neutral, not a crack in that stone-like façade of his.
I narrowed my eyes at him, lips curling into a sneer. "I'm not talking to
you
."
To my absolute horror, Cole's emotionless face cracked—just a little—into a faint smile. My heart, the traitor, skipped a beat.
"I'm not talking to you either," he said coolly. "I'm talking to Mr. Sinclair."
My mouth fell open as I tried—and failed—to co up with a sharp retort. My brain was still in shambles, scrambling to make sense of this ss.
In the end, I could only bat an eye at him, feeling utterly defeated. I turned to Sinclair, my last hope.
"I object, Grandfather. I don't want
him
as my bodyguard," I said, pleading with him to change his mind.
"Young Master Fay won't be your direct bodyguard," ca a voice, and I spun around to face the person beside Cole.
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It was Zen, Cole's head of security. Of course, he was here too.
"We will assign you your own personal bodyguard in the shadows," Zen explained, his smile infuriatingly boyish. "Young Master Fay will only be by your side when his ti permits."
I blinked at him, processing this ridiculous setup. "Wait, what?! You're telling that Cole will be around whenever he has free ti? Are you serious right now?!"
Zen only bead as if this made perfect sense. "He is the head of your security detail, Miss Rosette. He needs to be with you to assess situations, strategize protection, and organize your security details to match your schedule for the day."
I raised a hand, cutting him off before he could continue. "No. No way. He will
not
be my bodyguard.
Period
."
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