Page 64 of Ruthless Guardian

Whatever that is…

As we continue the tour, I can't help feeling like a gladiator myself, caught in an arena forced to endure a battle with my own self-restraint. Every time Massimo looks at her or touches her, I find myself reaching for an invisible sword. If I could, I’d run him through with it like one of those ancient Roman warriors. Here, in the shadow of Rome’s most famous battleground, I’m reminded that not all wars are fought with swords—they are sometimes silent, fought in the depths of one’s own heart, under the weight of duty and desire.

We finally wind around the entire circle and find ourselves at the exit. Thank,Dio. Bloodied half-moon marks line the insideof my palm from the restraint it took to keep from shoving Massimo off my client and into one of the fighting pits.

“Well, that was amazing, Massimo. Thanks so much for the guided tour.” She’s beaming at him, like he hung the fucking moon.

“It was my pleasure. But the night is still young, Bella. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Nope, sorry, not going to happen.” I step between the pair, shaking my head. “All locations must be vetted by my team beforehand.”

Isabella opens her mouth to likely rip me a new one, but Massimo cuts in. “Oh, come on, Raffaele, it’s a small little trattoria on the outskirts of town. Isabella will be perfectly safe.”

“That’s what we thought about theaperitivothe other night and look what a disaster that turned out to be.” I bristle and tower over the idiot, meanwhile cursing myself because we still know nothing about who was behind that shooting.

“That was an isolated incident. I’ve never seen anything like that in my ten years at thePoliclinico.”

“Well, Isabella’s life is my responsibility so I’m sure you’ll understand why I don’t take my duty lightly.” Glaring at him, I inch closer to Isabella, and I’m surprised she doesn’t scoot away. She hasn’t spoken more than a word to me since last night.

“How is Jeff?” Isabella blurts, cutting through the rising tension. “Have you visited him at the hospital yet?”

Massimo nods. “Yes, I went this morning. He’s recovering well from the surgery. You did everything right last night in caring for the wound, Bella. I am very proud of you.”

“Grazie.” Her cheeks flush that rosy hue that has my thoughts instantly flying to the night before. “Anyway, I’m still pretty exhausted from the adrenaline rush of last night so let’s do dinner another night, okay?”

“Si, certo, of course I understand.” He leans in and kisses her on both cheeks, and I barely restrain the growl building at the back of my throat.

As relieved as I am about not having to endure dinner with these two, I’m also dreading the talk we’re about to have. Whatever this thing is between us, I must nip it in the bud or else my performance will suffer and ultimately Isabella will pay the price.

And I would never let that happen.

The quiet car ride was bad enough, and now here we are lumbering around the apartment in an even more charged silence. Isabella plucks a take-out menu from the fridge, reading through the assortment of pizza though I know damned well she’s already memorized every item on the pamphlet. It’s our go-to pizza place.

“You hungry?” I call out.

She doesn’t even spare me a glance, only continues to stare.

Isabella gets the same thing every time, the Pizza Prosciutto e Rucola which is more of a salad than a true pizza if you ask me with all that arugula on top. She continues to stare at the menu, avoiding my gaze so I step closer. Still not a twitch in my direction.

“Do you want me to order something?”

No response.

Finally, I step in front of her and snatch the little flyer right from her hands.

“Hey!” she squeals.

“Ah, she speaks.” I hold the menu just out of reach, so she stands on her tiptoes jumping up and down trying to grab it.

“Give it to me,” she hisses.

“Why? We already know what you’re getting.”

She shoves me against the refrigerator, and I’m actually impressed by her strength. “You do not. You don’t knowanythingabout me, you ass.” Her tone is biting, laced with some deeper emotion that sounds a lot like hurt.

I recognize it easily because I’ve been drowning in the same feeling since last night.

I pin my gaze to hers, still trapped between her and the fridge. “I’m sorry, okay?” Dragging my hand through my hair, I heave out a breath. “I fucked up last night, big time.”

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