Page 26 of Protect Me

So why do I want to be ravaged by his darkness?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Vance

Before we even step on the landing, the front door whips open and I come face to face with Isabella’s father. His face twists into a tight frown, and his eyes scan behind him.

“Why are you here?” he asks me in a harsh whisper.

“What do you mean? I’m doing my job. The one you hired me to do.” I respond with the fakest fucking pleasantry.

“No, I asked you to watch her.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Not here. You can’t be here.”

I look behind him. Now I definitely feel the need to be here since he’s so dead set on me not being here. I don’t like how it feels. Who hires someone to guard their daughter, then calls them off the clock before she enters the wolves’ den? Does he think he can protect her? His self-interest is clearly greater than his love for his daughter.

“With all due respect, I plan to do my job,” I say.

“If you don’t leave, you won’t get paid.”

Oh no, no. I haven’t been on this babysitting gig for this long for him to renege on payment. I didn’t work for free. Well, free-ish. I got some fun out of it. Either way, I will go back to my roots if he tries to withhold payment from me. He forgets what makes me such an efficient guard.

“You hired me to keep your sweet little angel in my sight at all times, and what you’re asking me to do now doesn’t align with that. I don’t tell you how to do your job, sir, so don’t tell me how to do mine. If you don’t want to put me on any more gigs because of my dedication, so be it, but I’m finishing this one right. So please move aside before I take her right back home and shit on your dinner plans.” I raise my chest, pretty sure I’ve already shit on whatever his plans were tonight.

His mask of anger twists further, but just before he speaks, a hand grabs his shoulder and pulls him back a step.

“Isabella and Mr. Lore, I expected you to come along. Quite the guard you got for her, Angelino,” Mr. Vendetti says. He reaches a well-groomed hand toward me, with the crispest fold I’ve ever seen in his expensive suit sleeve. “My son has been awaiting your arrival. Shall we?” He crooks his elbow and offers it to Isabella, and she tucks her arm in his as he leads her away. I follow, giving her father a killing glare as I pass. Fucking rich people. Never an unshady one in the bunch.

Jealousy rakes my spine and nestles in my lower gut at the sight of him leading her into a den of wolves. It’s becoming real. Too fucking real. I don’t like this one bit, and I’m not sure if it’s the overall shadiness or because I kind of hate the thought of her with her future husband and his skeezy dad.

We walk into a giant kitchen that’s bigger than my entire home. Waitstaff stand by double doors, awaiting orders. It’s so fucking weird. Having staff on standby is a luxury I will never have or get used to. Even with a million dollars, I have so many other things I’d rather do than hire someone to stand outside the bathroom door, waiting to wipe my ass on command. I can perform all the basic necessities on my own, thanks.

Mr. Vendetti pulls out the chair for Isabella, and she takes a seat. One of the waitstaff guides me toward a seat across from her, but I force my way next to her instead. Her shit husband can sit across from us. I want to see his face as he talks. I want to get a read on him. Will he treat my girl right?

I clear my throat as the insanity of that thought reaches my rational mind. She’s not my girl. She’s not mine at all. And I know that. She’s promised to this shitty family, not someone like me.

Antonio comes into the kitchen, followed by the shit brother I’ve already met. Unfortunately. He recognizes my presence and curls his lip. Her future husband also stumbles over his words at the sight of me.

“I didn’t expect your help to come along,” he quips, and I’m about a cunt hair away from pulling my gun and shooting him square in the forehead.

“Just doing my job,” I say, trying to be a little less homicidal about it. I know these kinds of people, and I shouldn’t expect anything different.

“So commendable,” his brother says with a sarcastic laugh. I can’t help but wonder if Antonio knew his brother tried to kidnap her. That he probably planned to kill her. Would they be so buddy-buddy with each other then? Or does no one in these families have a genuine connection with each other? Seems like everyone will turn on everyone, and I don’t know how they live in a world with so little dignity.

“Isabella,” Antonio says, pointing at his side like she’s a dog.

I see red.

What surprises me and dulls the crimson hue is that Isabella gets right up to walk around the table and greet him. He leans in and kisses her on the mouth, and that fleeting touch makes me just as homicidal as when he called me the help. But when she turns her face to glance at me, her big eyes rounding with flirtation, I realize what she’s doing.

She’s doing this on purpose.

She’s giving in to that man because she knows exactly what it’s doing to me.

It’s making me fucking rabid, and she loves it. She’s playing a risky game in their own house. Their home turf. I’m a really good shot, but I’d be grossly outnumbered.

Don’t play, little girl, I mouth toward her. I’m not sure she can read my lips, but she better fucking stop.

She smirks, throwing her hip to the side and leaning closer into him. He’s clearly loving what he perceives as power, but it’s not power. He’s being played for a fool.

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