Page 25 of His Deadly Lies

I’m getting married, and my father is determined to oversee the match from start to finish. It’s not even on his radar to consider who might be a good match for me, someone who is going to respect me and engage in intelligent conversations.

Someone who he will be able to manipulate through me.

All for the family.

Papa, do you really think this is necessary?

I want to ask the question so badly that my lips form the words, but what good does it do? Not a fucking lick of it. We’ve already had the argument in the hospital, and Papa turned a deaf ear to every single hesitation I voiced.

It’s too late.

Blinking, doe-eyed, I struggle to get his attention and silently beg him to give me a moment to catch my damn breath while all the while trying not to undermine him in front of the Vittorios.

I don’t trust any of the other syndicates. Not on a whole or individually. It’s just common sense.

“Are you sure it’s no trouble?” Papa asks Ricardo.

Ricardo…now there’s a punk if I’ve ever seen one. The flawless suit and the slick, black hair hide none of his tendencies. He’s handsome, too handsome, with high, sharp cheekbones and dark eyes. He hovers around six feet with plump lips and eyes that are quicksilver, from calculating to jovial and back again.

“It’s no trouble at all.” Ricardo claps his bodyguard on the back. “He’s happy to help. Isn’t he?”

The other one grins, nods, but there is no warmth in the gesture. “Absolutely.” His voice is mechanical.

My old frustrations about being treated like cattle aside—as I’ve made peace with them long ago, or so I thought—this engagement is a layered issue for me, personally.

I’m a woman in a male-dominated business, which makes my virginity a perk and me a prize for nothing if that one fact. As such a prize, I can gain more wealth and protection for my family.

It’s my role for the syndicate, and I know my place.

I used to thrive on knowing it was up to me to grow the family’s influence. I got off on the power.

For some reason, listening to Papa maneuvering the young man and his entire family into this position touches a nerve with me. Especially considering the way I’d been maneuvered. Into the hospital and away from Rafel. Into this meeting. And soon to be in the arms of that debonair playboy.

Having a bodyguard around twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, let alone a bodyguard from another clan? That is not supposed to be part of the engagement deal. Not one damn bit.

“Wonderful. My decision is final,” Edward says. More than likely for my benefit. “I’m very pleased we can all come to an agreement on the matter. I’m sure I speak for Mia as well as myself when I say the use of your personal bodyguard is quite an honor, Ricardo.”

There is something not right about the bodyguard.

And it’s not just because he’d felt me up a few hours ago.

Papa turns in my direction with a distant smile, still angry with me for some of the F-bombs I let loose during our conversation earlier, and his motion draws the guards to order.

Ricardo has his focus on my father. Carter, on the other hand, regards me with those blue eyes framed by long black lashes. The type any woman would love to have. And I pointedly stare at his thick arms, bullying against his suit jacket, rather than his eyes.

“Now, I’m sure you would like to get to know your fiancée a little better. The time will come for that! First, let’s have a drink. To celebrate and discuss business.” Edward claps Ricardo on the shoulder, and the young man chuckles.

Ricardo doesn’t spare me a glance before he nods his assent. “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Balestra. I’m sure Carter will be more than pleased to accompany Miss Mia wherever she’d like to go while we have our celebratory drink.”

His guard dog. No, correction, I think acerbically. My guard. Because I’m not going to be left alone without a wart on my ass.

“Mia.” A single word and I turn to Papa.

I know what he wants me to do. To rest, take it easy, get off my feet. For some reason, that makes me feel more like a victim, a target. I swallow hard over a lump in my throat, pushing aside the fear trickling through my system as I watch Ricardo and Papa leave the office without a backward glance.

Finally, I’m left in the boardroom with the man of the hour, the man who is not my fiancé, yet his attention is a physical thing I want to smack out of the air.

He notices everything. He’s been watching me carefully through the entire process, and at the moment, his lips are tilted up in a slight grin. He’s much older than the man he protects, and if I have to wager a guess, I’d say he’s around forty. He seems the type who is more comfortable with a gun or covered in grease.

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