“Excuse me?” Raf sears me with those star-flecked midnight orbs.
“Nothing.” I saunter to the kitchen, in a lame attempt at nonchalance, and my new dark shadow follows. When I find the espresso machine empty, a curse escapes through my clenched teeth. Or maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. “I need coffee.” And Nutella. But I forgo my favorite morning treat today because all this inactivity has left me pudgy around the belly and with my shredded new bodyguard looming over me, the guilt is creeping in.
His dark brows twist as he eyes the elaborate machine. “Can’t you make yourself one?”
“I thought maybe we could go out instead.”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper. “I’d prefer not to leave the penthouse until we’ve gone over the security protocols.”
“I’m very familiar with the procedures, Raf. I’ve been living them for the last twenty years.”
“Not like these, you haven’t. After spending the week with Tony, I took it upon myself to tweak the protocols of my predecessor.”
“Why?” I blurt, trying my hardest to keep my rising temper at bay.
Raf leans against the marble island, his mask of calm only more infuriating. “They were outdated and lacking, to beperfectly honest.” He spreads the sheet out on the countertop, and I briefly scan the headers in neat type.
Threat Assessment and Planning
Constant Surveillance
Secure Transportation
Personal Protection
Safe Environments
Privacy and Information Security
The list goes on and on, the words blurring in the building irritation. “You had no right to change the way Frankie did things.”
“On the contrary, I have every right.” He pushes off the counter and steps into my space. “It is my duty to keep you safe, and I will do that to the best of my ability. It was impossible under the previous terms.”
“You can’t be serious? Frankie was an incredible bodyguard. He kept me alive for over twenty years, and you come in here on your first day and try to change everything? So you happened to be at the right place at the right time last week? It doesn’t mean you’re more capable than he was. Frankie gave up his life for me—" My throat tightens, the heat of unshed tears burning my eyes. I blink quickly to keep them from rolling over. The last thing I need is to cry in front of this man. Then he’ll really think I’m nothing more than some spoiled little mafia princess.