Page 5 of Ruthless Guardian

The man stares at me, eyes wide for a long minute before one of the guards escorts him to the door.

I can feelPapà’s glare boring into me from the corner of the room. He hasn’t spoken a word in the past three interviews, allowing me to take the reins. But I have a feeling his silence is about to come to an end.

So I spin on him, pre-emptively. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh really, what’s that?” He stalks closer, arms folded behind him.

“That I’m being too picky.”

“Well, yes, that’s one thing…”

“I won’t choose a man with a family,” I blurt.

“But Frankie didn’t?—”

“I know.” And I feel awful for it. He dedicated his entire life to me and our family, without ever making the time to grow his own. “But at least, there were no kids to mourn his loss at the funeral. I couldn’t handle that,Papà.”

His head slowly dips, something like understanding in his eyes. “Isa, these men choose this life. It is no fault of your own. If it’s not you, it’s someone else they risk their life for.”

“Then it’s their guilt to drown in, not mine. I won’t do it. I will not send one of these men to their ultimate doom.”

My father draws in a steadying breath, then places his strong hands on my shoulders. “You are much too kind of a soul for this life, little princess.”

A quick knock at the door sends my head spinning to the entrance.Papà’s executive assistant, Clara, pokes her head in. Her warm gaze flows over me, and a smile parts her perfectly redlips. The stunningly fashionable older woman is like a grandma to me, taking the place of the maternal grandmother I never met. “Mr. Ferrara is here.”

“Are you ready?” My father lifts a dark brow.

“I guess I have to be, right?”

“I think you’ll like this one, Isa. He’s never been married and has no children, not to mention has an impeccable record. He should be the perfect match.”

As much as I’ve been dreading this day, I can’t deny the itch beneath my skin, to be free, to act like a twenty-two-year-old college grad again instead of an old recluse. “We’ll see about that,” I mutter, then stomp back to the conference table and sink into the high-backed chair at the head. I glance over my shoulder at Clara and return her smile. “Please, send him in.”

Clara’s grin widens, a glint of amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Of course,principessa.”

I roll my eyes at the nickname, momentarily diverting my attention from the doorway. Again, I feel that prickle, the shift in the air that has goosebumps rippling across my arms. I lift my gaze and find myself ensnared by a pair of eyes as dark as the midnight sky. In an instant, I'm captive to that piercing, intense stare, as if the world narrows down to the space between us. A shiver of anticipation runs down my spine.

I’ve never seen a man so beautifully terrifying, his presence breathtaking and intimidating all at once.

And oddly familiar.

My breath catches in my throat, confirming my sentiment from a moment ago, as my gaze settles on the immense shadow darkening the doorway. I force my eyes away from his, down to that strong Roman nose and high cheekbones, to the dark stubble across his wide jaw, then travel further down. Good God, his shoulders are so wide he’s forced to shift sideways to fit through the entrance. A black suit melds to his broad form,the sleek material like second skin. The hint of a tattoo peeks through the open collar of his pristine white shirt and suddenly, I must know what sort of art hides beneath.

I’ve never had such a visceral reaction to a man.

Any man.

He stalks closer, and every nerve in my body tingles in awareness. I cross my legs, to extinguish the unexpected building heat, and fold my hands atop the mahogany conference table, reminding myself why we’re here. I’m supposed to be interviewing him, not eye-fucking the man and imagining his naked, tattooed body sprawled beneath me.

He folds his massive form into the chair across from me and offers a guarded smile. “Good morning,SignorinaValentino.” The hint of an accent laces his words, the smooth, deep timbre, a perfect match to the gorgeous man perched before me. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.”

Swallowing hard, I shuffle through the papers in front of me, trying my damnedest to remember what Clara had said his name was until I find his resume. Raffaele Ferrara.Yes, that’s it! “Thank you for coming, Mr. Ferrara.” I’m impressed with the coolness I manage given the sudden heat racing through every inch of my body.

I sit across from him, trying not to squirm, the sprawling boardroom doing nothing to temper the electric tension between us. The chandelier above the conference table casts a soft glow, accentuating the sharp lines of his suit and the undeniable presence he commands. I try not to linger on the sight of him, too aware of my wandering thoughts. Clearing my throat, I refocus on the task at hand.

"Mr. Ferrara, your record is impressive. Special Forces, then private security in some of the world's most volatile lands," I begin, scanning his resume while stealing glances at hishard expression. "What brings you to the doorstep of King Industries?"

Raffaele places his hands on the table, his posture a study in relaxed vigilance. "Protecting people is more than just a job to me,SignorinaValentino. It's a vocation. I'm here to ensure your safety, thoroughly. As to what brings me to New York specifically, I’ve grown tired of the endless travel in my stations abroad. I’m looking for a more permanent position."

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