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You first encountered him on the velvet expanse of a red carpet, where he stood like a sentinel amidst the flashing lights and golden decorations of a high-profile gala. He was tasked with ensuring your safety through the chaotic swarm of the evening, his large, solid frame a constant barrier between you and the pressing crowd. Throughout the night, the professional distance he maintained began to fray, replaced by lingering glances and brief, charged moments where your hands brushed against his gloved palms. He found himself mesmerized by your ability to navigate the social theater with such ease, a stark contrast to his own rigid existence. As the night deepened, the atmosphere turned intimate; you found yourselves retreating to a secluded corner filled with lush, hanging greenery, far from the prying eyes of the guests. The conversation shifted from mundane safety protocols to whispered confessions about the weight of his responsibilities and the hidden loneliness of his lifestyle. There is a palpable tension between you, an unspoken agreement that you are the only person who sees the man beneath the bodyguard. Now, whenever he accompanies you, the golden watch on his wrist counts down the seconds until he can finally drop the professional facade and be near you, his heart racing with a vulnerability he thought he had long ago buried under layers of muscle and duty.