Page 15 of The Bodyguard's Vow

“Why are you calling mesoleall of a sudden?” she blurted after we’d ridden in silence for ten minutes. “You already call me Gabriella instead of Gabbi.”

The tension returned as I scrambled to come up with any reason except the truth. I couldn’t tell her that she was the light in my darkness, the only thing that helped me see what humanity remained in the midst of the killer carved from ice inside me.

“Because you’re too damn bright in the morning,” I grumbled.

She was quiet for a minute, so I glanced over and found her dark eyes studying me as if she wasn’t quite sure she believed my explanation. Then she turned in her seat so she was facing forward again and declared, “It seems only fair that I get to use a nickname for you, too.Rompicoglioniseems appropriate. But I think I’ll just go with Mico instead.”

Worried that the nickname would seem too intimate and send up red flags, I almost contradicted her. But Rafa had called me Mico from time to time since we became friends. It was rare, but not completely improbable that Gabriella could have picked up on it once.

“I suppose that’s better than ‘pain in the ass,’” I remarked.

She giggled, and the sound pierced my chest, spreading warmth through my body. Another reason I called hersole. She lit up when she was happy, and if I couldn’t make her mine, then that was all I wanted for her. Although, I wasn’t sure how to make that happen when I couldn’t stand by and let another man have her.

I’d come to accept that after I put the fear of the devil into George. He might not have balked at the name De Luca, but he was still a pussy who had crumpled under my threats of death and dismemberment if he so much as touched Gabriella. However, I’d also told him not to break up with her. I didn’t want to see her hurt in case she cared about him at all. But my bigger concern was that if he went running right away, she might suspect Rafa or I had something to do with it.

My train of thought was interrupted when we arrived at our destination. I was pleased when Gabriella stayed in the car, allowing me to come around and open her door.

“Brava ragazze, sole,” I murmured as I reached in to help her out of the vehicle.

Her cheeks turned pink, then her whole face flushed when our hands clasped and sparks erupted where we touched. When she was standing beside me, I told myself to let go but reflexively squeezed a little tighter. Then I gritted my teeth and forced reality to take over, reluctantly releasing her.

Gabriella cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly. “I know better than that. Rafa would lock me in a tower if I didn’t take my safety seriously.”

“Sounds like a smart move to me,” I said evenly, my expression mostly unreadable.

“Of course you’d think that,” she scoffed, tossing me a disgruntled frown. Obviously taking my comment at face value—practical and protective and siding with Rafa as usual.

She clearly didn’t catch the slight edge in my voice or the flicker in my eyes that would have told her I wouldn’t mind being the one to keep her safely out of reach.

When she turned away without another word, my gaze lingered on her a second too long—imagining that tower and her in it, all mine.

Over the timeI’d spent with Gabriella, she had constantly impressed me with her knowledge, her business sense, and her ability to connect with her clients. She’d talked more than one reluctant collector to loan a piece to the Belladonna Gallery or Vellum & Vine art museum.

She had a keen eye, which Aston had obviously discovered early on because he often asked her opinion when making choices. He also took any suggestions she brought to him seriously.

I was proud as fuck of my girl and wished that I could convey that to her in more than a friendly way. But since I didn’t think I could draw that line, I stayed silent, something she was used to anyway.

The toughest part of my day was returning to Gabriella’s apartment at night.

It would have been all too easy to slip into a comfortable routine of making and eating dinner together, then cuddling—a word I never thought I would use—on the couch in front of the movie. I had to have my guard up in the literal and metaphorical sense, and it was fucking exhausting.

Gabriella didn’t make it easy, either. She had an innate sweetness, mixed with moments of sassy attitude, and a natural seductiveness to the way she moved. It was driving me out ofmy mind with wanting her. And then there were the times when she deliberately pushed my buttons, teasing and tempting me in subtle ways. It was a battle with my restraint, and with each moment we were together, I worried I would lose.

It had been a long day for Gabriella when I finally parked the car in front of her apartment building. She hadn’t brought up our relationship again, but I was on alert for the moment she thought she could spring the subject on me.

We took the elevator up to her floor in comfortable silence, then she waited just inside her door while I did a sweep of the apartment. After a thorough search, I gave her the all clear, and she walked inside, locking up behind her.

“Why don’t you go take a bath, and I’ll make dinner tonight?” I suggested.

It had been funny as hell the first time Gabriella realized I could cook. She’d been shocked and didn’t believe me until I made her chicken marsala with herb mashed potatoes and butter steamed vegetables. My mother had been adamant that her boys be able to take care of themselves when we moved out. She’d lamented about us starving and pestered us until we let her teach us how to use a kitchen.

Gabriella’s brow puckered, and she sighed tiredly as she ran a hand through her long, silky locks. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Go,sole,” I ordered, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine,” she snapped. “But only because I want to, not because you told me to do it.”

I waited until she’d spun around and marched into her bedroom before smiling. Damn, she was cute.

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