Page 9 of Ivory Sins
No wonder he looked really familiar. Hunter worked for the Bellanti organization until they fired him for embezzlement. I remember he had some sort of secret obsession with Olivia and how leery and creepy he was toward her.
But that doesn't explain why she was spooked to the point of having a goddamn panic attack. It makes little sense. There's more to this, and I will figure it out.
It's been two days since the Hunter incident, and we still haven't talked about it. Likewise, I haven't told her what I found out, either, not yet, anyway.
Today, there's a charity event that requires Olivia's presence. And as her bodyguard, I’ll be there with her every step of the way. Initially, it was her brother Lorenzo, who was supposed to attend, representing the family.
However, his wife was feeling sick, and he couldn’t make it. Olivia was next in line. So, here we are.
The grand hall is full of the hum of quiet conversations as impeccably dressed men and women chatter in small clusters. Waiters and waitresses weave through the crowd of affluent folks with trays of champagne and canapés balanced on their hands.
The aromas of expensive wine, perfumes, and colognes waft through the air as chandelier lights cast a warm glow over the guests.
I stand at a safe distance, watching Olivia like a hawk. However, as strict as my gaze is, there's a flicker of admiration, maybe even lust, dancing underneath. I can't seem to tear my gaze off of her, and a flutter rises within me.
She's so gorgeous and her green dress hugs her in the right places. It has a daring slit that reveals her thighs, adding a sense of sophistication to her overall look. She's so stunning, and I almost tell her that before we leave the house. Maybe I should have.
I can smell her signature scent even from here and it's bringing back old memories.Focus, Marco. Focus.
I watch her mingle with the créme de la créme of society, the who's who–the elites who run the city and control the government. They say this is a charity event, but we know better. It's not. It's just a charade, a distraction—a cover for arms deals between mafia families.
My eyes squint when I notice Olivia's reaction when an associate of hers introduces her to Alex DiMartino, the enigmatic and feared leader of the DiMartino family.
There's a touch of fear in her eyes, even though she tries to mask it. Yes, she’s afraid of him. But why? Yes, Alex DiMartino is the devil himself, but he should pose no threat to her.
Olivia does an excellent job of hiding her unease, but I know her too well. Her hands tremble slightly as she grabs a champagne flute from a waitress. Her hands never tremble.
She is definitely hiding something.
After what feels like an eternity, the event finally ends, and I drive her home. She sits in the passenger seat, her head against the window.
The car is silent as a graveyard, only the sound of the humming engine filling the air. I want to start a conversation, but I'm not sure how. I don't know what to say, even though I have lots of questions.
I glance in her direction and reach across the dashboard for the bottle of water, but she withdraws, almost jumping out of her skin. Her reaction was a little extreme and rather hilarious.
“Still afraid of getting close to me, I see.” I chuckle lightly. Taking the bottle of water and placing it in between us, “Perhaps you're afraid my touch will ignite something in you,” I tease.
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please.” She looks out the window. “Don't flatter yourself.”
There's a flash of lightning in the clouds, followed by a clap of thunder. Moments later, it starts to rain.
“Some things don't change,” I say, stealing another glance at her. “Your pulse spikes when I touch you.”
She turns to face me, her expression dark and menacing. “You lost the right to touch me when you vanished from my life three years ago,” she says, her voice laced with venom. “Oh, and the reason my pulse spikes when I see you is because you irritate me,” she adds, a scowl settling on her face.
Thunder rumbles in the sky.
I take a turn down an empty street, and then I get a message on my phone. My eyes dart to the device sitting on the dashboard console. The message said that Olivia's former apartment, now occupied by a couple, had recently been broken into.
My face contorts into a frown, and I slam on the brakes, stopping the car in the middle of the road.
Why the hell would someone break into her old apartment? Sure, a couple lives there and maybe the break-in has to do with them. But I can't shake the feeling that something is awfully wrong.
“Why'd we stop?” she asks, glaring at me.
“Olivia,” I begin, turning to face her. “What's in that safe?” I ask, on a hunch.
She stares back at me for a moment before letting out a dismissive laugh.
