Page 53 of Ruthless Guardian

Despite the exhaustion that creeps into my bones day in and day out, a sense of fulfillment anchors me through the chaos. I know I am exactly where I’m meant to be. The thought is sobering and all together terrifying.

I draw in another breath and flip the page of the romance novel I’ve been pretending to read on the rooftop balcony for the last thirty minutes, but the words all blur in the swirl of thoughts ravaging my mind.

Would nine-year old Marcello be able to playcalcioagain after that broken leg?

And what about twelve-year old Graciela? Would that hole they found in her heart lead to another stroke?

All the patients’ anxious faces tumble through my mind and their parents?Dio, speaking to them is the worst. As interns, we don’t do the talking, but we are still forced to stand there and observe. To see their faces crumble, tears spring to their eyes, when the prognosis is bad, is pure torture.

My entire life I’d wanted to be a doctor, to heal instead of harm, and now, the reality of it is finally settling in. Would I be strong enough to endure it?

“What’s wrong,principessa? That vein across your forehead is dancing the tango.” The asshole smirks from his lounge chair, only exacerbating my annoyance as he tips his sunglasses up to perch atop his messy locks.

On a positive note, he completely distracts me from my existential crisis. “Shouldn’t you be monitoring the perimeter?” I bark. “Since when do you ever sit down, let alone relax?”

“Today is my day off.”

My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. That would explain the glistening abs and swim shorts. I’ve been trying my hardest not to ogle his perfect form, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been sneaking in little covert peeks whenever I have the chance. Besides the carved muscles, I’ve noticed at least a dozen scars.Bullet wounds, long since healed-over gashes from blades and who knew what else?Dio, what has this man been through?

In all the months since Raf started working for me, he’s never taken a day off. And now I feel like the asshole because it never even dawned on me until this moment.

He ticks his head over his shoulder to a guard in all black standing by the door that leads downstairs. “Aldo will be covering for me today.”

I eye the familiar man with the long nose and silver strands glistening through his dark hair. He’s been one ofPapà’smen since before I was born. “Then why are you still here?”

He shrugs. “What can I say, I’m a work-a-holic.”

“Obviously.”

“So will Aldo be accompanying me to the party tonight?”

“What party?” He shoots up from the lounge chair and the seatback drops with a clang.

“I told you all the interns were meeting up for an aperitivo tonight.”

“Shit,” he mutters as he reaches for his phone. “I have it in my calendar for tomorrow night.”

“The infallible Raffaele Ferrara made a mistake?” I gasp dramatically. “It cannot be!”

“It’s this time zone difference, it’s screwing up my calendar.”

“Whatever you say.” I shoot him a teasing grin because it’s so rare to see him flustered, and I just can’t help myself.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll be escorting you tonight.” He stretches back out across the lounger, and I can’t help my eyes from trailing over the canvas of ink across his chest and the rippling muscles beneath. Since we’ve been living together, I’ve become intimately acquainted with his grueling workout routine. It’s no wonder the man is sculpted like a Roman god.

Despite his best efforts at training me, my body is nowhere near his perfection.

“It’s really not necessary,” I finally squeeze out once I’ve unglued my eyes from his torso. Another night out with my wickedly tempting bodyguard while drinking sounds like trouble.

“It’s fine, I can take a few hours off tomorrow to make up for it.”

“Oh, good since I’ll have my date with Massimo then.”

He releases a string of curses that has Aldo flinching from the corner of my eye. “Never mind,” he grits out. “I don’t need the time off.” He sits up again, resting his forearms on his knees. Despite his attempt at cool and collected, his foot is twitching, vibrating all the way up his muscled thigh. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to get involved with a professor, let alone the the head of the internship program?”

“I never said we were getting involved,” I bite back. I only used the word date to rile him up.

“Well, it’s clear he wants to fuck you.”

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