Page 12 of Her Cruel Bodyguard

“You don’t like him?” I shrug, enjoying this as much as I should. “He is a lovely guy, and I think he will make the perfect…”

“Eva,” he cuts me. “If he misbehaves, I will kill him,” he croons. I know he means it. He is a shockingly dangerous man. But his words have a different effect on me. One that sends currents traveling through me that gather in my core.

I nod, “Yes, sir.” I spin and allow the smile to take a full seat on my face. I get to Paul, slink our arms, and strut with him to Gloria, who is already sitting, trying to fix something on her pocket camera.

“Tell me what you want, and I will go get it,” Paul says, pushing a chair for me to sit.

“Pink lemonade,” I sit and rid myself of my sling bag.

“French fries for me,” Gloria says, lifting her head for a quick bit. Then she is back, acutely focused on the camera.

“Pink lemonade and French fries,” Paul chimes, and his eyes fall to Fabio sitting across from us at another table. “Anything for you?” To which he gets a scowl in response and nods. “Got it,” he says and heads toward the counter to order.

“What is wrong with your camera?” I ask Gloria as I open my sling bag and begin unpacking my laptop, notebook, and pen.

“I was having chips late last night, and I think a small chunk might have gotten stuck. It’s stiffening the aperture ring,” Gloria grunts and drops the camera on the table, then leans forward. “You like Paul?” she mouths, and I shake my head both to tell her no and to tell her to drop the topic. “You do,” she continues.

“Fabio,” I mouth and point with my eyes. I don’t know what she makes of that, but she leans back in her seat and slits her eyes at me.

“We will talk about this later,” her words are a loud whisper now. I won’t be talking about any of this later, but I don’t say that. Instead, I nod with a giggly smile as if I cannot wait to gossip all about my miserable pining life.

Paul walks back with our orders and a bottle of water for himself. He sets the trays on the table and then sits beside me, slightly blocking out Fabio from my view. I adjust my seat forward and lean one elbow on the table to remedy the situation.

I take a sip of my pink lemonade, and it slaps but also morphs into sweetness. “Thank you, babe,” I say as I push myself closer to Paul.

“Anything for you,” he unpacks, bringing out his laptop, notepad, and pen.

“Your hair looks good! Did you change something?” I reach for his hair with the tip of my pen.

“You like it?”

“How can I not?”

“You didn’t say anything when I sent the pictures.” He is good. He is a natural.

“I wanted to say it in person,” I sip again as my side eye catches Fabio firing death shots at Paul.

He hates him.

Good.

CHAPTER SIX

FABIO

Iunbutton my suit jacket and stretch out my legs under the table, careful to keep my holster concealed. I have too many fucking eyes on me, of horny young girls and intimidated boys.

But they are the least of my concerns.

My mind, body, and ears are fucking narrowed in a sniper shot, focusing on what is happening across from me. Eva and the idiot she calls her boyfriend. I am a pained man, and I have no intention of pretending otherwise, at least not to myself.

I should not be glaring at the kid the way I am, but it’s a reflex. My mind paints images of reaching out and snapping his neck.

I will kill him.

I had meant that without needing to add the part of him misbehaving to warrant it.

He has her; that’s enough reason to kill him. He doesn’t have to do more than that. The fact that he can look at her the way he is, the fact that he is touching her the way he is, the fact that he can whisper things to her, and she dares to fucking blush at the idiotic sound of his voice… All of that is solid ground for a death wish.

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