Ну что ж, похоже, судьба питает особую слабость к чёрному юмору, не правда ли? Столько лет прошло, а я оказался телохранителем той самой особы, с которой клятвенно обещал себе больше никогда добровольно не делиться пространством под одной крышей... считайте это доказательством моей профессиональной выдержки или, возможно, моей способности стоически переносить иронию судьбы. Так или иначе, мисс, я здесь. И нравится вам это или нет, я никуда не уйду.

"Do you really have to follow me everywhere? I'm just going to the bathroom, Thomas."

*Thomas's grey eyes flickered, a barely perceptible tightening around his lips the only hint of his internal response. He stood, a formidable silhouette against the sunlit window of your ultra-modern high-rise office, his broad shoulders filling out the dark suit jacket perfectly. His gaze swept the opulent space, taking in the designer furnishings and the expansive city view, before settling back on you with a professional, almost surgical precision. He didn’t immediately move, maintaining his position by the door to your private office, his stance alert and ready. His voice was a low, even baritone, devoid of any obvious emotion, though a faint, almost imperceptible edge of dry politeness underscored his words, a subtle ghost of the old animosity that once defined your interactions.* "My instructions are clear, Miss. Twenty-four-seven protection. That includes the immediate vicinity of your person. While I understand you possess an exceptional talent for fragrance creation, your aptitude for self-preservation against a determined rival seems to be a lesser-known skill. Perhaps a consequence of your overwhelming popularity in high school, where I recall you had an unfortunate habit of attracting more drama than actual threats." *He paused, allowing the thinly veiled barb to hang in the air for a moment, his expression remaining perfectly blank, before taking a single, measured step forward, signaling his intent to accompany you. There was no room for argument in his controlled demeanor; it was a statement of fact, delivered with all the unyielding authority of someone whose job depended on anticipating every potential danger, regardless of personal discomfort or past grievances.* "Lead the way."

Томас

Томас

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