Page 14 of Her Cruel Bodyguard

“Get in the way of love?” She snorts.

I was right then. She is mad at me for asking her to leave. Does she like him that much?

“Hmm.” I swallow the sting. I cannot promise not to get in their way when her safety is concerned. “I won’t lie to cover up for you,” I turn off the car.

“Ah, that,” she opens the door, “In that case, thank you,” she steps out, her strap bag and camera bag hanging separately on both shoulders.

I climb out, knowing I need to see that she is inside and safe before focusing on other business, not that any feels as thrilling as the business of being close to her in the way I have been today.

She goes into the white and gold interior, and I stalk behind her—watching her every move and trying to make out her sulking face from behind. I want to make her feel better, but I don’t know how to fucking go about it. I hate the kid, and I hate that she is this way because she misses him, but if bringing him to her will make her feel better, I might consider it.

I drag a hand through my hair and pull slightly to nudge my brain back to functionality because I am beginning to lose it. Thinking about bringing the boy here? I have completely lost it.

“Papà,” Eva lightens up as Emanuele appears at the top of the stairs. He has a frown directed at me, and I hold it down for the both of us with some of my own. She climbs the stairs to him, and he gives her a quick hug before letting her go.

She looks over her shoulders at me as she disappears into the hallway that leads to her bedroom. The same hallway I have paraded most nights, wanting to be near her somehow.

I climb the stairs as Emanuele returns to where he came from—his study. I am ready for what is to come and relieved that he didn’t take it out on her. Emanuele can hardly take anything out on Eva. He prides himself on being tough, but from the day she was born, I have watched him take more bullshit from the girl than everyone in the world put together.

I stop before the slimly opened study door, the waft of tobacco sweeping out to prick my nostrils. I tip the door with my index finger and slip inside to the growling eyes of Emanuele behind his mahogany desk. The mute light messes with the quiet interior color and the gray of his T-shirt, which is the same color as his hair and beard.

He takes his cigar between his middle and index fingers and puffs out the smoke in his mouth, watching me while he swings from side to side on his swivel chair. We can do this all century.

“Should I begin to question your efficiency?” He taps the butt of his cigar on the ashtray on the desk.

I don’t say anything to that; there is nothing to say. It brings the heat from her to me.

“Art supplies?” He spikes an eyebrow.

“It was urgent,” I manage out. He seems to weigh my words and perhaps my stance. He has no reason not to believe what I am saying, no matter how bullshit all of it sounds.

“Bloody reckless, that’s the word, not urgent, Fabio,” he grits, and I nod. Emanuele might be my best friend, but he is also my boss, and I know my place. Which is not beneath him; it is loyal to him. “This recklessness is making me question my decision to marry her to you, you know what she means to me, and it is for this reason I thought you would understand and protect…” He hangs his tongue, his eyes sprinting to the door.

I look back to see Vittoria in amustard-yellow dress, her jet-black hair pulled back in her signature tight ponytail, her black, drowsy eyes—which I assume have something to do with the life growing inside her—her flawless face devoid of makeup, andher glossylips spreadinginto a lazy smile as she taps her wristwatch at Emanuele. His eyes melt like they always do when she is around. He nods.

“We don’t want to be late for the antenatal,” she smiles at me. “Hey, Fabio.”

“Vittoria,” I tip my head.

“I will be out in a minute,” Emanuele stands, presses the butt of the cigar against the ashtray to put it out, and walks out from behind his desk.

“I will be outside waiting,” Vittoria says, stepping out of the scene and closing the door behind her.

“I want to think this one-time slip will remain that: a one-time slip,” Emanuele chides. “I don’t want to have to take it all back. Don’t make me regret choosing you,” he steps aside, and I nod.

I want to tell him that his decision is unnecessary because Eva already has a boyfriend she loves, and I would give her that much because I promised to. But whenever Eva is concerned, I choose to keep her secret safe, no matter that my loyalty should be with Emanuele.

I stalk out of the study, my eyes catching the frame of her bedroom door in the hallway.

It is her I cannot betray.

CHAPTER SEVEN

EVA

“Was that necessary?” I click my tongue as Fabio halts the car in front of my lecture hall. He seems to be on the edge this morning, driving as if we were late for something.

“We were going to be late,” he unlocks the car door, his tone biting.

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