Her Silver-Haired Sentry

She is the most photographed woman on earth. He is the only man who has ever looked at her without wanting something. Marisol Vega is twenty-four, three albums deep, and being stalked by a fan who is getting better at it. Bram Kessler is forty-nine, ex-ranger, and hired to keep her alive — not to like her, not to laugh at her jokes, not to call her by her legal name until she insists. He is silence, order, and a plan for everything. She is noise, glitter, and the kind of insomnia you can only write songs about. He moves into the guest room. He redraws the tour. He takes a knife meant for her in a Berlin parking garage and never mentions it again — until the hospital, where the painkillers do. Some men are hired to guard your body. Bram Kessler was always going to be the one who guards your heart.