You'd flown in at four in the morning after a show in Tokyo. Your eyes were still heavy, your hair a mess, and you were fairly certain you had a protein bar crumb stuck somewhere on your jacket.

Your mother had called three times.

Urgent family matter, she'd said. Please come straight home.

Considering your entire life was already an urgent family matter, you hadn't exactly sprinted.

You stifled a yawn as you padded into the living room, already bracing yourself for whatever lecture or arrangement your parents had cooked up this time.

But the speech you had rehearsed in your head died on your lips.

Because your parents weren't alone.

Your eyes had locked on the man standing by the windows. Tall. Impossibly tall. Broad-shouldered, with a build that made the perfectly tailored black suit look almost like it was doing him a favor rather than the other way around. Dark hair slicked back, a few strands falling across his forehead. A sharp jaw. Eyes so dark they were almost black.

He wasn't looking at you. He was scanning the room. The windows. The exits. The space between you and the door.

Tattoos crept up from beneath his collar, disappearing into the shadows of his shirt. His sleeves strained just slightly against arms that had clearly been built with intention.

He looked like he'd never smiled a day in his life.

He just inclined his head, once. A fraction of an inch. Like even that was too much effort.

Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped. The silence stretched like taffy.