Page 37 of Ruthless Guardian

I can’t help my traitorous gaze from trailing that perfect ass as it sways hypnotically in those tight yoga pants.Fuck. Squeezing my eyes closed, I force myself out of the chair and stretch my arms over my head. Even in a private jet, my long legs cramp after hours of not moving. Once I’ve gotten my musclesstretched out, I rifle through my bag for a new shirt. Not that Isabella’s drool is that noticeable on a black t-shirt, but if she’s changing then I suppose I should too.

I tug the shirt up and over my head as the door to the cockpit opens, and the flight attendant saunters out. Her gaze latches onto my bare chest, to the map of scars then to the ornate skull surrounded by red roses tattooed to my flesh. A cross is inked behind it, intersecting the skull, symbolizing a balance between life and death and the precious woman caught between the lethal dance. I got it the day after I losther... Darkness creeps into the corners of my vision, threatening to pull me under, but a cheery voice hauls me back to the present.

“Good morning, Mr. Ferrara. Is there anything I can get you before we land in Rome?” The woman, Janey, I believe she said her name was, struts closer, a grin on her ruby red lips as she continues to blatantly ogle my bare torso. I’d only seen her for a few minutes when we’d been welcomed aboard and then again when dinner was served. She’d been a little flirty in front of Isabella but hadn’t deliberately stared like this.

“Just some water would be fine.” I swing my head over my shoulder, motioning toward the back of the plane. “But we should see what Miss Valentino would like.”

“Of course.” She inches closer still, her eyes fixed to my chest, or maybe it’s the tattoo, but I can’t help but get aplease-fuck-mevibe from the woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s provided all sorts of entertainment for VIP clients. Though Luca seems completely obsessed with his wife, one never knows what a man is like in private. “That tattoo is incredible,” she whispers as her hand lifts to my chest. She traces the bold outlines and rich colors, her finger running a path along my carved torso.

Clearing my throat, I take a giant step back. Not only am I supposed to maintain professionalism with my clients at allcosts, but also anyone on staff. “Thank you,” I say, an icy edge to my tone that I’m hoping she’ll pick up on.

But either she’s clueless or doesn’t care.

She closes the distance between us once again, her hand finding its way to my stomach and dangerously close to my belt buckle. She rises to her tiptoes and whispers, “I’ll be staying in Rome for twenty-four hours if you want to meet up after you’ve dropped off your charge. I’m up for whatever you want, Raffaele…”

The bathroom door whips open, and Isabella pops out, her gaze immediately jumping to the woman’s hand on my abs. Her mouth curves into a capital O, and those brilliant sapphire irises flash.

A long minute passes before the fucking stewardess releases me, and I can drag my shirt over my head. “Janey here was just asking if there was anything more we needed before we landed?”

“I bet she was.” Her eyes narrow as she regards me for an endless moment, something like disappointment in her gaze. And it hurts like fucking hell. She slides between the flight attendant and me and dons that fake smile, not the one that makes her eyes crinkle in amusement. “I’ll take a mimosa, Janey. And make it quick.”

“Of course, Miss Valentino, right away.” She spins on her heel and disappears behind the dark velvet curtain.

I remain frozen by the bathroom door like an asshole, no worse, like a kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar only I didn’t even get my damned cookie. Nor did I want it. Which is odd… and something I choose not to focus on at the moment.

Isabella stomps back to her seat and drops into the pristine leather. After a moment of waffling, I follow and dip into the seat beside her. “That wasn’t?—”

She lifts a hand, cutting me off. “Whatever it was or wasn’t is none of my business, Raf. You’re the one that said you don’tdorelationships. I guess that doesn’t mean you don’tdowomen in general.”

“I’m not?—”

She presses her finger to my lips, and her tantalizing scent fills my nostrils. It takes all my restraint to keep my tongue from snaking out to taste it. It’s a heady mix of sweet gardenias and succulent strawberries. Does she fucking bathe in the stuff or what? “We’ll be living in Rome for three months and we’re both adults, free to date or screw whomever we want.”

“I don’t know that I agree with you there,” I mumble around her finger.

Her dark brows furrow. “So you’re saying you won’t be dating?”

“No, I’m sayingyouwon’t be dating.”

CHAPTER 19

MR. PERFETTO

Isabella

Why did I ever think allowing this stubborn, pig-headed man to accompany me to Rome would turn out well? My blood is boiling, fiery heat racing through my veins and not in the good way. We spent the entire ride from the airport arguing about whether or not I was allowed to date while in Rome.

Allowed? Are you fucking kidding me?

I did not get out from under my father’s oppressive hold only to be squashed by Raf’s. Trailing after the obsessive psycho, I stomp up to the building where I’m supposed to live for the next three months with our new driver, Salvatore, hand-picked by my father, following behind us with my luggage. I’m so pissed, I barely notice the beautifully intricate façade or the carefully manicured shrubs teeming with bright pink blossoms. The entrance is adorned with ornate cornices, sculpted reliefs, and arched windows framed by decorative moldings.

Raf jabs his finger at the call button on the aged stone wall.

“Pronto?” A gravelly voice echoes through the speaker.

I lose focus as I take in the gorgeous architectural details of the old Renaissance building. It’s been years since I came to Rome with my parents. Unlike most of my friends from high school who got to backpack across Europe after graduation, I was forced to spend the summer with my little brother and parents touring the continent in luxury. I fully realize how bratty I sound, but I missed out on the normal experience, just like I did with practically everything growing up.

“What do you mean the apartment isn’t ready?” Raffaele’s furious growl jerks me back to the present. “Miss Valentino has arrived today, not tomorrow. What am I supposed to do with her now?”

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