Page 9 of Ruthless Guardian

Screams ricochet across Park Avenue, the shrill cries muffling the rat-a-tat of bullets served by the Kings’ security detail. Two men in suits huddle behind the oversized SUV, shooting over the roof. I jerk my gun out of its holster beneath my jacket and aim at the sleek black sports car. Stilling my racing pulse, I search for the calm, the inner silence that took years to hone despite the madness, the sprinting forms and steady wails. The BMW races down the street, weaving through traffic, followed by the steady spray of projectiles. With the pile up of cars, I can’t get a clean shot of the tire which would bemy target of choice. Knowing Luca Valentino, he’ll likely want to question the fucker who tried to kill his daughter, or at least I sure as hell would. So instead, I aim at the passenger window, peppering the tinted glass with holes.

The car jerks to the right, then skids across the median before slamming into a garbage truck. The two Kings’ men swarm the BMW, and a third man appears from inside the vehicle, planting himself in front of the door. Seconds later and a whole troop of guards spill out from the front doors of the building.

I’m overcome with the most overwhelming urge to stalk over there myself and shoot the asshole in the face, but I search for that calm once again. Not your job yet,coglione.

As the security team deals with the threat, I holster my weapon and march toward the Escalade. Before I get within two yards of the car, two massive guys block my forward movement. “I don’t think so,amico.” Friend, ha, that’s laughable. The big guy lays hands on me, and I twist out of his hold so quickly, I nearly snap his wrist. I only restrain myself because of whom sits behind those tinted windows.

“Release him.” A deep voice echoes from behind the door before the window glides open. None other than Luca Valentino stares up at me, dark eyes narrowed. And just beside him, his daughter. I fully expect to see fear in those brilliant baby blues, but an icy veil masks the expressive irises I observed only yesterday.

“You sure,capo?”

“Yes, Enzo,SignorFerrara just single-handedly took out the threat while the three of you spun your wheels likedeficienti. And by the looks of it, I should be requesting for him to release you. One twist and he’ll have that arm in a cast for six weeks.”

A smirk tugs at my lips as the big man’s cheeks turn the rosy pink of a schoolgirl. I could likely take on Luca’s entire security team. With my eyes closed.

Isabella peeks from around her father’s broad shoulders and our eyes meet, then hold for a fiery instant. Her lips part, and I wonder if she remembers me or if she’s as affected by me as I am by her. From the extensive research I conducted prior to the interview, I never found a single mention of a man in the beautiful heiress’ life. Pushing the inappropriate thoughts to the furthest corners of my mind, I focus on the man in front of me, the one who will determine whether or not I get this job.

The job I shouldnottake.

But now I’m invested. Because there is nothing that gets my blood boiling like taking out a scumbag who has his eyes onmyprincipal.

Luca Valentino slides out of the car, straightens his tie and motions to the entrance of the impressive building. “Please, come with me,signore.”

SignorValentino turns before we reach the elevator bank and leads us through a metal door adjacent to the rear entrance. Isabella whispers something to her father, and I slow my footsteps, allowing them a modicum of privacy. The elder Valentino cocks his head over his shoulder, and his lips twist into a snarl.

“I promise we will find out,principessa,” he murmurs as he holds the door open.

Princess… a little tongue and cheek if you ask me.

“Please have a seat.” Luca motions at the small, nondescript room with two folding chairs encircling a plastic table.

I fold into the hard chair, and it releases a groan of protest beneath my weight.

Luca doesn’t sit, instead he looms over me, his hand on the butt of his gun which peaks out from beneath the waistband of his dark slacks. “That was quite a coincidence, you turning up at my building today at just the right moment.”

Ah, now I see what’s happening. “It was certainly lucky.” I pause and twist my head over my shoulder to face Isabella. “For you.”

“Do you mind me asking why you were here?”

I tick my head at the soaring turrets of the cathedral across the street. “Morning mass.”

Luca chuckles. “I never pinned you as a religious man.”

“It’s not something I typically include in my resume.”

“Fair enough.” The elder Valentino glances at his daughter. “I am not a man who believes in luck,SignorFerrara. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am today and luck had nothing to do with it. But it just so happens that my daughter and I were on our way into the office to have my assistant draft up the documents for your offer letter.”

A twist of unexpected emotions whip across my insides.

“And after today’s performance,” he continues, “I’m convinced my daughter has made the right choice for a bodyguard.” He pauses and fixes piercing irises to mine. “Assuming I determine you hadnothingto do with this incident today.”

“I assure you I did not. My clients’ safety is of the utmost importance, and I would never orchestrate a stunt of that caliber merely to secure a job. I have a list of potential candidates awaiting an opening in my schedule.”

Luca nods, lips pressed into a hard line. I’ve also done considerable research on the leader of the King’s, and the man is no fool. He only wants the best for his daughter, and not to be cocky, but that’s me.

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to keep all those other clients waiting.” Isabella’s reply comes as a shock. She moves from behind her father and lifts that mesmerizing gaze so that I’m trapped in the endless blue. “Why would you choose me?”

The question lingers in the air, hanging like a charged silence between us. I meet her gaze, the intensity in her eyes both challenging and sincere. The answer comes easily, my voice steady despite the turmoil that her presence stirs within me.

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