Page 22 of Her Cruel Bodyguard

“Don’t go too far, and stay where I can see you,” his tone has no anger, but I feel the worry slinging around his tight voice.

“Give it a rest, you are trying too hard,” Paul snorts.

Fabio lifts an eyebrow at Paul. “Watch your mouth, kid.”

“I am no kid, and neither is she, we can sneak around and have fun, your job is to watch, not get in the way,” Paul chews out and I lift my index finger, wiggling it in his face.

“You don’t talk to him like that,” I shake my head. “Don’t you ever talk to him like that, never.”

“Hey,” Paul’s tone softens. “I am sorry, I’m frustrated, babe. I enjoy spending time with you, and he made me feel like I can’t protect you; no man wants to feel that way.” He strokes my cheekbone with the back of his middle finger, and I visibly recoil, but remember we have a charade to keep up.

“It’s not an excuse to speak to Fabio like that.” I won’t let that go. I won’t stand around and watch anyone disrespect him. I won’t even allow myself to disrespect him. I might act saucy at times, but that’s the dynamic between the two of us. It’s our thing and no one else’s.

“It won’t happen again,” Paul lifts his eyes to stare at Fabio. “We are good,” he manages a smirk. “If you don’t mind, I only want to spend a little more time with my girlfriend,” he comes closer to me, and his arm slides to circle my waist.

I am trying not to look at Fabio. I can feel the intensity of his sullen mood to the point of hyperventilating, which is why I go with Paul. Fabio steps back as Paul leads me a little further into the corner.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Paul squeezes his hand on my waist, and I glare at him. I feel trapped. I can’t say anything because Fabio is behind us. And if I want to end this charade, I will have to do it properly so as not to make Paul feel belittled either. He has been nothing but helpful.

“That was awful,” I grumble. “Whatever we do, you shouldn’t speak to him like that.”

“I don’t see what man would not be as protective as I was,” he stops, and I do too.

“That wasn’t being protective, that was being rude,” I pout. I know what being protective looks like. It is how my father is around Vittoria and how Fabio is with me.

“Fine,” he crowds me until my upper back is plastered to the brick wall behind me. This time I relax, both because Fabio is around and because when he did it earlier, he let me go when I wanted out, “I am sorry, I truly am,” he slides his arm to let go of my waist. Then he places the hand with his camera on the wall, carelessly enough that I worry for the camera itself.

I have come to see that while he might be intelligent, he is not passionate about photography. The way he acts during classes, how he grumbles while taking pictures, many of which look unprofessional, and then how he treats his camera.

“You are beautiful,” his other hand comes up to cup my face.

“Paul,” I chuckle edgily. “That’s unnecessary; he can’t hear you,” I try to go under, but he hooks me with the hand holding the camera and presses me back to the wall, the camera slamming slightly against the wall.

“He can watch,” his next move is quick, too quick.

His body presses flat against mine, both hands holding my face still and his mouth covering mine. I twist from side to side, trying to get him off me and break the kiss, but he is stronger than I had given him credit for. Not to mention the height difference, his frame swallowing me.

“Get off,” I push with my hands, but he uses the opening to slip his tongue into my mouth, making me gag, both from repulsion and the force.

His hands begin to move, and mine do the same. While he is searching for a way to grope me and fondle my body, I am fighting him off, punching and scratching, wriggling and whimpering. I hear the shattering of his camera on the floor as he frees his hand to work better. And then he is gone.

The cool evening breeze slaps against my face as I open my eyes to find Fabio with his back to me. Stumbling forward, I witness the most terrifying scene as he picks Paul up off the ground and throws him into the wall as if he weighs nothing.

Paul begins to defend himself, but his punches are weak. In an attempt to escape Fabio, he manages to scramble off his feetbut stumbles and falls, landing on all fours with blood all over his face.

My body is trembling, my hand is unable to hold my camera, and it slips, crashing to the floor. I am not new to violence, but I will never get used to it. I know I was fathered by a man who lives and breathes violence, but he did everything he could to shelter me from that life.

Paul is bleeding from his nose, and there’s a cut on his lips and one on the side of his head.

Fabio approaches him again, picks him up by the shirt, and is about to throw him against the wall once more.

My throat explodes, and my stomach shudders as I scream.

He is going to kill him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FABIO

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