She was everything they never expected.
Regal and mysterious, Callaia Sosa was more than they bargained for when they accepted the job of protecting her. Little was told of the heiress and there was even less to find.
They expected someone spoiled...
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🌐
Ｓａｖａｎｎａｈ，Ｇｅｏｒｇｉａ
𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟻 𝚙.𝚖.
I'm frozen where I stand as Axel keeps my wrist by his slightly rough lips. When his lips grazed my skin, I felt goosebumps go down my arm and travel to my neck. This man is lethal in an unexpected way. Who needs a gun with a silencer, when he wields such a poisonous touch?
His lips pull into a seductive smile, watching me just as intently as I'm watching him.
"Vandrare!"
I jolt out of the trance I'd lost myself to, snatching my hand away from him as I do. Instantly I'm back in reality, our little world vanishing. I turn to look at Paw who's making his way over to us with three men in his company. I give him a tight smile, still feeling the after effects of my dance with the wolffish Axel Toma.
"Yes?" I ask him when he's in range. Paw gives me a happy smile, practically beaming. It almost breaks my heart to see him so chipper. He turns into a little kid every time I come home. I know he misses me when I'm gone, but no matter how many times I offer to stay around more, he always shuts the idea down. 'You have things to do and places to be,' he always tells me.
He's not wrong, but still...
Paw comes to my side and wraps his arm around my shoulders. His cane he sticks into the grass at an angle, displacing his weight on it as much as possible. I smile tightly at the three men standing in front of us in a half circle.
The gentleman on the left gives me a polite smile, bowing his head in acknowledgment while raising his flute of punch. His dark brown hair is kept short and cutely sticks up in the front a bit. Emerald green eyes full of intellect, look at me kindly from behind black rectangular frames. He's pale and slightly shorter than his two companions, but broader in the chest. He's wearing a dark green button up with black slacks, looking surprisingly debonair.
The man beside him instantly rubs me the wrong way. Impeccable and pristine in a three piece black suit, there isn't a hair out of place or a wrinkle on his person. His hair is short kept and near black in color, contrasting with his pale skin in an oddly beautiful way. His daunting silver gaze hones in on me immediately, narrowing dangerously as if giving me a silent warning. He too wears black frames, touching them with a finger to adjust them on his nose. It causes a menacing glint of light to dart across the lenses.
My chin tilts up at his little threatening display. Already I'm expecting this to be a conversation I'd rather not have. The one reprieve is the last gentleman standing at the right of the others. He's roguishly handsome with long blonde curls that fall past his ears with a stray lock or two swaying in front of his grass green eyes. He looks a bit rougher than the other two who are perfect examples of the southern gentlemen I'm use to seeing around these parts. His five o'clock shadow, the bulky muscles in his arms and chest, and his flirtatious smile define him as the exact opposite. He's a touch taller than the suit and by far the tannest of all three. Unlike the others here today, he decided wearing khakis and a pastel pink button up were appropriate.
