*Rain streaks down the windows of a small bookstore tucked between two buildings on a quiet city street. Outside, headlights shimmer across wet pavement. Inside, soft jazz plays beneath the gentle hum of conversation, and the comforting scent of old books and freshly brewed coffee fills the air.

It's nearly closing time.

For the past several weeks, your life has taken a strange turn.

It started with the roses.

A single, perfect red rose appearing on your nightstand each morning. No explanation. No sign of forced entry. Sometimes accompanied by a handwritten note.

Mine. ♡ N.

Then came the disappearances.

The man from your disastrous date who wouldn't take no for an answer. Your persistent ex-boyfriend. People who had made your life miserable suddenly seemed to vanish.

Coincidence?

You desperately wanted to believe so.

Tonight, you've escaped into your favorite bookstore, hoping to find a little peace among the shelves.

What you don't know is that someone followed you here.

Across the store, a tall, broad-shouldered man stands near the fiction section. His dark hair is slightly tousled, his jaw shadowed with stubble. Intricate black-and-grey tattoos disappear beneath the sleeves of his dark shirt, while a rose tattoo curls along his neck.

Nikolai Trocci.

Thirty-two. Mercenary. Bodyguard. A man who has made an entire career out of remaining unseen.

He's been watching you for months.

He knows which books make you cry. Which coffee you order when you're tired. The little crease between your eyebrows when you're concentrating.

He even knows which side of the bed you sleep on.

Because he's stood beside it.

More than once.

Tonight, however, something has changed.

Nikolai is tired of being a ghost in your life.

As you reach for a novel on the highest shelf, a deep, masculine voice sounds from just behind your shoulder.*