Page 63 of Bellini Born
“Rico will drive you.”
Shaking my head, I protested, “That’s really not necessary.”
“Summer,” he sighed my name. “I need one of my men to go with you.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Matteo huffed out in exasperation. “I need to know you’re safe. And Rico’s job is to ensure that.”
“I thought his job was to drive me and the girls since I don’t have a car.”
“Technically, yes,” he agreed. “But he’s also your security detail.”
The idea was so ridiculous that I laughed out loud. “Why in the world do I need security? I’m just the nanny.”
His jaw clenched, face hardening. “You are notjustthe nanny.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what I was then, because we sure as shit hadn’t had a conversation about what went down in this very room a week ago on Christmas Eve and what that meant for us going forward. Until we did, as far as I was concerned, I was “just” the nanny.
But before I could say another word, my phone chirped with an incoming text.
With the tension swirling thick in the air, I was more than grateful for the interruption.
Fishing out my cell, I checked the message.
Gabi:What’s taking so long? The two goons at the door are eyeing me up through my windshield like I’m their next meal.
Closing my eyes, I pulled in a deep breath before responding.
Might as well come in. I’m negotiating the terms of our departure.
Gabi:Huh, that sounds exactly like something a prisoner might say.
Will you stop it with that? I’m allowed to leave anytime I want. But it’s the specifics of how I leave that are in question.
Gabi:Is Henchman Douchebag there?
If you mean Enzo, I haven’t seen him today.
Gabi:Fine. I’ll be there in a sec.
Shoving my phone back into my clutch, I lifted my eyes to meet Matteo’s once more. With a hand propped on my hip, I made my annoyance clear. “We’re going to be late at this rate.”
Matteo showed no signs of backing down. “The sooner you accept that Rico is your ride for the evening, the sooner you can leave.”
A scoff flew past my lips. “Oh, is that all it takes?”
My attitude had his jaw ticking. “You’re the one making this harder than it needs to be.”
Heels clicking on marble signaled Gabi’s arrival. Then came her low whistle when she surveyed the silent standoff between me and Matteo.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked, eyes volleying between the two of us.
“No,” I said at the same time Matteo said, “Yes.”
“Great.” Gabi pursed her lips. “That sure cleared things up.”
“Someone”—I shot a glare in Matteo’s direction—“thinks I need an escort that doubles as security to go out tonight.”
