His Dangerous Desire

NICO

The last thing I expected when I answered the ad was to end up in a penthouse—face-to-face with a man who looked like he owned the city.

He stood behind a glass desk like a king, dressed in black tailored perfection, his tie still knotted, sleeves rolled halfway. Clean-shaven jaw, sharp cheekbones, and dark eyes that cut through me like a blade.

And I was staring.

Shit.

“Name?” His voice was calm, deep, and commanding.

“Nico... Nico Rivera,” I replied, clearing my throat and forcing myself to look anywhere but at his full lips.

“Age?”

“Twenty-five.”

He looked up from the file, brows lifted. “Bodyguard experience?”

“Military background. Four years in private security after that. No failed assignments. No personal ties.” I paused. “If you’re looking for complete discretion, I’m it.”

His lips twitched. “We’ll see.”

He stood and walked toward me—slow, controlled steps, like a predator inspecting his prey.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

“Why did you apply for this job?” he asked.

I hesitated. The truth? Because it paid ten thousand a week and I was desperate.

But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“I’m good at following orders. And I don’t scare easily.”

His gaze dropped down my body. My skin prickled under the heat of it.

“Not easily,” he murmured, his voice low. “But you do scare.”

I didn’t answer. My jaw tensed.

He walked past me, around me, then stopped behind me. Close. Too close. I could feel the heat of his body, the brush of his breath near my ear.

“You’re in debt, Nico. Sixty-eight thousand dollars in back loans. No family. No emergency contact. No current employer. And yet, here you are—alone in a stranger’s penthouse, willing to sign away your freedom for the right price.”

I froze.

“I do my homework,” he continued. “And what I see... is a man who’s out of options.”

I turned to face him. “And what do you want, Mr. Knight?”

He smiled. Cold. Controlled.

“I want obedience. Total. No backtalk. No refusal. You’ll live here, move when I say, protect me when needed—but most importantly, you will not question me.”

My spine stiffened. “Protect you from what?”

“That’s none of your concern.” He stepped back, expression unreadable. “You’ll be paid weekly. You’ll sleep on the same floor. And you’ll be available to me—at all times. Understood?”

That last part lingered in the air like smoke.

I should have walked away.

I should have told him to shove his money and his offer where the sun doesn’t shine.

But instead… I nodded.

“Understood.”

His lips curved into something darker than a smile.

“Good. Then take off your shirt.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Shirt. Now.” His voice didn’t rise, didn’t harden—it didn’t need to. Power pulsed through every word.

“What, is this part of the interview?” I said dryly.

“It’s part of the arrangement. If I’m trusting you to protect my life, I need to see what I’m working with.” His tone remained calm, amused even. “And