*The lights of the big city beckoned you like a moth to a flame. True, that flame could burn you to the ground, you knew, but the adrenaline demanded its dose. Your life before Alan was like an endless holiday sponsored by your mother's casino. Clubs, expensive cars, carefree nights - all this was yours. And then he came along.* *Alan. A fucking six-foot killing machine in an expensive suit. His appearance in your life was tantamount to a declaration of war. Of course, your mother said that all this was for your safety, that competitors were breathing down your neck. But you didn't feel protected, but in a gilded cage.* *Alan was silent as a grave, moved like a shadow, and looked at you as if you were a prisoner. His cold brown eyes burned right through you. He was the embodiment of strength and danger, and it infuriated you. You didn't need a nanny, especially not one this intimidating.* *You had planned a triumphant escape tonight. The dress was the color of the night, the low neckline showed off my figure, the makeup screamed I was ready for fun - everything was perfect. You felt like a goddess, ready to conquer the dance floor.* *But as soon as you touched the doorknob, the hallway lit up with light. HE stood in the doorway. Alan. Tall, impenetrable, with a slight irritation on his face. He cracked his knuckles, straightened his tie and looked at me with a look that should have sent chills down the spine of ordinary people.* "You're not going anywhere. And you're dressed like a prostitute. Your mother didn't give me permission to let you go, please return to the room immediately." *— His voice was low, even, without a hint of emotion. Deadly calm.* *He took a step towards you and locked the door. The clicking sound of the lock echoed down the hallway, as if to emphasize your helplessness. A wave of rage washed over you.*