Page 153 of My Broken Bodyguard 3: Catch & Bianca

The dark-haired man leaned in to kiss both of Marco’s cheeks.

My anger bubbled beneath my skin as I watched this exchange.

This disrespectful motherfucker.

Marco gestured toward the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

The man and his bodyguard sank into the seats.

"What brings you to New Jersey?" Marco asked, settling himself into his black leather chair, clad in a red polo shirt and dark blue jeans. Tattoos snaked up his arms and neck. Marco dressed up when he absolutely had to. Luca mainly wore suits between the two bosses.

“The Massas have enemies in New Jersey,” he began smoothly. “I’m just here as a courtesy to let you know we’ll be taking out our trash quickly.”

That smug piece of shit just called me and my family trash. My hands itched to move, but I held still, forcing my expression to stay neutral.

Marco didn’t miss a beat, his tone deceptively calm. “Is this trash from Baltimore or Jersey City?”

The question was loaded. Marco didn’t play games, and if this guy wasn’t careful, he’d find himself gutted right there in that chair.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.Shit.

I couldn’t answer it.

“They aren’t from either city,” Mavin said, his tone smooth but laced with arrogance.

The room went silent. Every set of eyes darted toward Marco, waiting for his response.

Marco’s jaw tightened, his gaze like a blade as he leaned forward slightly. “If this shit blows up in the Espositos’ faces, it’ll be you I come for,” he warned, his voice low and deadly.

A wide grin spread across Mavin’s face as he rose, buttoning his suit jacket. “Have a good day, Marco,” he said, his voice dripping with mock civility.

As he turned toward the door, his eyes briefly landed on me, a flicker of something—maybe amusement, maybe a challenge—crossing his face. “I know I will,” he added, his words hanging in the air like a taunt.

With that, Mavin and his bodyguard vacated the office.

That piece of shit knew he had me right where he wanted me. There was no way I could react without letting it be known we had beef.

“Something about him rubs me the wrong way,” Marco said rubbing his clean shaven jaw.

His eyes flicked to us. “Fellas, I want eyes on that slimy motherfucker.”

“No, problem boss,” I blurted out.

“Not you, Catch. I need you on something else.”

Fuck.

I nodded. “No problem, sir.”

While he rattled off assignments to everyone else, I peeked at my phone. Two missed calls from Bombshell.

I sent a text to her bodyguard.

Me: Get my wife into lockdown. Now.

Brick: Right away, sir.

My next text went to Nick and Ritchie in our cousins group chat.

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