Page 37 of Her Cruel Bodyguard

Forty-five minutes later, Dr. Janel is done with the lecture, and as I pack up to rush towards her, I turn my head to see that Paul is gone.

“Guilt can eat the soul,” Gloria spins to face me. “He probably thought about it and couldn’t face you,” she swings her eyes to the seat Paul was occupying. She puffs. “You were saying?” She taps on the desk, her smile coming back and her eyes lighting up. “The son and the baby mama.”

“I did not say baby mama,” I chide.

“Call a spade a spade,” she shrugs, and I laugh softly.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FABIO

Friday was the best and the worst day of my whole existence.

From watching her parade around with that idiot to nearly killing him while unscrewing the lid on twenty-three years of buried memories, to kissing her and confessing about Jake and not fucking stopping there, but also taking her to see him. And as if the day couldn’t get any more complicated, I went into her bedroom when my restraint was hanging by a thread.

I lost it when I saw the picture of myself on her wall. I couldn’t make sense of why she would care that deeply for me the way she does. Why she considered me as one of the people she cherishes enough to take pictures of and hang on the walls of her bedroom.

I was bound to do something stupid, so I should have walked out and let the swell in my chest boil to a stop. But instead, I let it bubble until it was spilling. And when she took off her dress, I was gone.

I was a gone man.

And whatever hell I was in got worse when I found out she had given me the gift of being her first.

I grate my teeth and glower at the sun bouncing on the screen of the car.

“If I could choose, Fabio De Luca, I would still choose you to be my husband.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

No matter how much I try, her words won’t stop haunting me. Her gift of herself won’t stop crawling inside of me like special blood with a separate connection to my heart.

Every one of my efforts is going to waste. Every time I feel I have something that will make her shrink and decide to look in the other direction, she comes back stronger. She puts my efforts to shame. She puts me in my place by taking control of what she feels for me.

I crank up the AC of the car, and rock music blares through the speakers.

If I continue to fill my time and mind with menial things, the guilt will keep lessening. The guilt that I have tasted her, and I want more.

I should draw the line, but I cannot. I am not strong enough.

I am mad at her for keeping that truth from me. She should have fucking told me it was her first time. I should have fucking listened to my guts. But I didn’t want to ask and make her feel uncomfortable in the slightest of ways.

Why would I care about the men she has been with? It didn’t make any sense to me to ask and have more reasons to want to go on a killing spree.

Shit!

I slam my hand on the steering wheel and open my phone to see the photo of Jake dressed for school that Mindy sent to me a few hours ago. I love him, and I love having pictures of him. But his picture does nothing to improve my messed-up mood.

I am fucked over.

My self-control is slacking.

I know she will accept me, and we can kick off from there, but now, more than ever, I know I cannot let her choose me.

Her decision making will not be unbiased, she’ll want me now because I am her first.

I swipe to another picture of Jake with a smile on his face, and I smile, too. He does look like a mini-me, although I cannot remember the last time I smiled as widely as he did. I must have been his age or younger when I stopped smiling like the world is fucking Disneyland.

I keep swiping through more pictures of him.

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