Kimberly stirred awake to the soft scent of cologne and the sharp sting of pain in her temples. Her head throbbed as though a thousand drums were pounding inside, and when she opened her eyes, she realized she was no longer on the cold pavement of Riverside Drive. She was in her bedroom—wrapped in silk sheets, with the city skyline glittering faintly through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Blinking, she sat up slowly. And that was when she saw him.
Roy.
He stood near the window, tall and immovable, dressed in a perfectly cut charcoal suit. His posture was calm, but there was an edge in the way his sharp eyes scanned the room, as though danger might burst through the walls at any second. He didn't look like a man who belonged in anyone's bedroom—certainly not hers—but like someone who had stepped out of a world that thrived on control and survival.
"Kimberly," a deeper, familiar voice broke her thoughts.
Her father strode into the room, his presence as commanding as ever. Charles Hayes—billionaire, feared negotiator, and the man Kimberly still believed was incapable of cruelty. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, his suit immaculate despite the hour. He crossed the room with urgency, his stern eyes softening for only a moment as he looked at his daughter.
"Dad…" Kimberly whispered, her voice hoarse. "What—what happened?"
"You were attacked last night. If it weren't for Roy, you might not be here." His words were heavy, almost accusing her of weakness. He gestured toward the man by the window. "Kimberly, this is Roy. From this moment forward, he is your driver—and your bodyguard."
Her brows knitted, shock cutting through the fog of her headache. "Bodyguard? No. Absolutely not. I don't need a shadow following me around, Dad."
Charles's expression darkened. "You don't get to decide this. I was once a mafia boss, Kimberly. Now that I've left that life behind, everyone will be coming for this family."
Kimberly's eyes widened. She let out a disbelieving laugh. "Dad, no. You didn't harm anyone—I know you. You wouldn't dare. You can't even hurt a fly." Her voice broke, a plea laced in her words, as though trying to erase the stain of the past with her belief in him.
But Charles only shook his head. "You're running the company now. That makes you a target."
"I'm running a legal company," Kimberly shot back, sitting upright despite the pounding in her head. "So why on earth would I need a bodyguard?"
Her father's jaw tightened. His tone, when he spoke again, was harsh but oddly tender, like steel wrapped in velvet. "You need one. And Roy here is your bodyguard. I know you wouldn't want to disrespect your father."
The words hung heavy in the air. Kimberly's lips parted to argue again, but when she met Roy's eyes—dark, steady, unreadable—her voice caught in her throat.
For the first time in her life, she felt like her future was no longer hers to control.