Page 7 of Ruthless Guardian

Meeting those guards—and especially one in particular—had been a torrent of exhausting emotions. I want to be out there in the world living my life again, but the PTSD is real. It isn’t the fear for my life, but the responsibility of another’s. In my twenty plus years, Frankie was a constant and now he was gone because of me.

It sounds ridiculous, but I would have rather been the one to die.

I stopped fearing death at the ripe old age of six. I don’t think I’d ever forget that day.Papàhad come with Frankie to pick me up from school and instead of heading straight home, we took a detour to Central Park for ice cream. We were strollingaround the boathouse when I felt it, that prickle of awareness I now understood was some long buried primal sense of self-preservation.Papàfelt it too, and he slammed me to the ground an instant before a bullet whizzed by.

It was the first time I’d ever been shot at, and as I lay beneath my father, his body a human shield of blood and bones, an odd sense of calm crashed over me. “Everything is going to be fine,principessa,” my dad whispered. “No one comes after my family and lives.” More shots rang out and despite my father’s big hand covering my eyes, I saw the man fall. Frankie stood over our attacker’s panic-stricken face as blood poured from the wound in his chest. His face was contorted in fear as he begged for mercy, a gift he’d never receive. He must have known it too because I’d never seen such horror painted into an expression.

Frankie pointed the barrel to his forehead and with one quick pop, his head lolled back. The hard set of the man’s jaw softened, and his eyes rolled back, then a slow smile crawled across his lips. He seemed so content, so completely at peace. After only six years of filling the small shoes of a mafia princess, I knew I would only ever achieve that level of complete serenity in death.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I force back the dismal images and sip my coffee. My parents fought so hard to keep me from the harsh realities of our brutal world, but despite their best efforts, the darkness crept in and annihilated the light.

The creak of the balcony door opening sends my head spinning over my shoulder. Rick, who’s on front door duty today, holds the door open for Serena who rushes by with a coffee in each hand. When she spies my nearly full mug, she grumbles and drops the cups on the table. “Damn girl, how long have you been up? It’s only eight in the morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I mumble. “So I’ll be more than happy to take that second cup of coffee off your hands.”

She smirks. “It’s your favorite, caramel macchiato.”

“And that’s why you’re my best friend.” I lower my cappuccino onto the table and swap it out for the sweet goodness of Starbucks.

Serena plops down onto the lounge chair beside me and bumps her cup to mine. “Cheers.”

I take a sip of the warm, caramel latte, and the turmoil in my gut begins to subside.

“So I heard you met with some guards yesterday…” She lifts an inquisitive brow. “Does that mean I’ll finally get my wingwoman back?”

“Ugh,” I grunt. “I’m not sure yet. They’re only the first candidates I’ve met with and?—”

Serena lifts a hand, cutting me off. “Oh, stop. I just so happened to stop by the office yesterday afternoon, and Clara already told me about that guy, Raffaele. Better still, she showed me the pic from his resume. Girl, he is sexy as sin and that security background? I’d let him shadow me any day. How could you not tell me about that delicious hunk of Italian man? Clearly, you need to pick him.”

I force a laugh, even though just the mention of his name has heat blossoming below, and it has nothing to do with the latte wedged between my legs. I don’t know why I don’t mention seeing him at The Velvet Vault all those weeks ago. Probably because she’ll think I’m crazy for remembering a random guy I never said a word to. “I’m not going to pick a guardian just because he’s gorgeous,” I finally reply.

“Ha! So you think he’s gorgeous too.”

“I’m not blind, Serena. I may have been stuck in this penthouse for the past month, but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what a hot guy looks like. And let’s be honest, it doesn’t matter how good looking he is, nothing couldeverhappen between us. You don’t shit where you sleep or whatever that saying is. Andanyway,Papàwould literally cut off his dick if he ever lay a hand on me.”

She clucks her tongue. “Fair enough. If you got caught…” A devious smirk curls her lips.

“Serena…” I grumble.

“What? Can you blame a girl for wanting her cousin and best friend to be happy? When was the last time you dated a guy?”

Never. “Um, junior high maybe.”

She shakes her head, a satisfied smile kicking up the corners of her lips.

“You know how my father is.”

“I do, because he’smydad’s brother. Trust me, I’ve had to fight like hell to get past Dante Valentino’s stubborn, pigheaded ways.”

“Either way, nothing will ever happen with one of my guards. I can assure youPapàwill be watching him like a hawk.”

“Okay, okay, it’s probably not the best idea to get involved with your guard anyway. And it totally explains why Uncle Luca picked Frankie for you. He was almost your dad’s age.” She shrugs. “But, I still think you should pick the beautiful bodyguard. At least he’d make great eye candy.”

“Yeah,” I mumble around another mouthful of the macchiato. “I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

“Well, you better get ready, Bella, because I havebignews, and I can’t have you moping around the penthouse for my last few weeks in town. We need to celebrate!” She props her cup on the table and spins toward me, eyes shimmering with excitement.

“What? Where are you going?”

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