Page 45 of Her Cruel Bodyguard

But it’s all I can think of.

His eyes and the pain weaving in them. I put it there.

I should have kept my big mouth shut. I should have kept his secret a secret.

If things were reversed, I know without a doubt that Fabio would never open his mouth, not at gunpoint, not even with my father.

I open my laptop and slam it, hating that the picture on my screen is of Fabio.

It is one of the photos I took last Friday while we were out for the street project. I started to edit them, and I wanted to frame this one. This one with his suit jacket thrown over his shoulder, one hand dipped into his pocket, staring a little above my camera at the person behind me. I caught the rawness of his jealousy.

But in the grand scheme of things, this is not important.

I grunt.

Jake has been kidnapped, and it is all my fault.

I slam my hand against the hardwood of my editing desk, and some of the equipment on it shudders.

I lean back on the sofa behind my desk and try not to meet Vittoria’s eyes as she paces about my studio, cursing in Italian. I don’t understand any of it, though. Despite my father’s insistence, I never learned a word of the language.

She hates Salvatore.

I want to hate him, too, but I find it hard for me to do.

But I hate this. I hate what he is doing. I hate the fact that he is causing me and everyone I love this much pain.

I want to stop him, and I will.

I just need my mind to work.

“We need to find a way to fix it.”

“We will,” she nods and stops pacing. She stares at the door of my studio awkwardly, like something is there or someone is at the door about to deliver the solution we need.

“But how?” I sit up, trying for a confident, business-like tone.

“We need something,” she spins and faces me. “We need someone,” her coal-like eyes drill me as she stalks back to me.

“The cops?” I shake my head, already knowing it is a stupid thing to say. I have been saying and doing a lot of stupid things lately. It makes me wonder if I really am my father’s daughter.

“Yeah, let’s call them and have them up in our business,” she stops beside my desk. “Let’s get the whole of the United States to know and confirm that Fabio has a son,” she smiles slightly. “Shall we?”

“I know it’s stupid,” I pout and sink back into my seat.

“Do you?” She struts away, hands on her hips as she returns to pacing.

“But we need to do something,” I grumble.

I hate this.

Why did I never beg my father to let me into the business? I would have known so much more than I do. I would have been fearless, much like Vittoria.

She is fearless and fearful.

The same with Nina, Salvatore’s fiancée. She gives that fearless and fearful vibe. And they are both around my age.

Yes, Nina was bending to her father’s will and allowed herself to be used by her father, but if he hadn’t trusted her enough, he would never have asked her to do what she did. And if she was a scared kitten, she would have been caught almost immediately.

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