Her Mafia Bodyguard

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“It didn’t have anything to do with me the day you decided to get a septum piercing, either.” Needless to say, she took the nose ring out and never put it back in.

She flinches at the memory, and I can only imagine she remembers the way her father screamed the walls down. We both heard it from him that day. “I made sure he knew that was my fault. Don’t blame me for that.”

“I still had to hear about it. I don’t think I unclenched my ass for a week after that.”

I can tell she doesn’t want to giggle, but she does anyway. “Everything is scheduled. Not like I had anything to do with it.”

I shouldn’t keep talking about this, but I can’t help it. Not when I hear a disappointed note in her voice. “You really didn’t know he was arranging for you to go to Blackthorn, huh?”

She keeps her eyes on the phone. “It doesn’t matter.”

“So you really don’t care that you didn’t get any say in where you go to school?”

Her head snaps up in time for me to catch sight of it in the mirror before focusing my attention back on the road. “What are you trying to do?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Are you trying to make me miserable? Save your breath, okay? I know how lucky I am. You don’t need to remind me.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do.”

“Right. Because you’ve never rubbed it in, how lucky I am. How I don’t have any room to complain about anything in my life.”

She’s got a good memory. I’ll give her that much. I have given her a lot of shit in the past when she’s being a brat and acting like it’s so painful and inconvenient having somebody devoted completely to making sure she’s safe. “I wasn’t trying to rub it in, either. And it does affect me since I’ll be following you around all over the place. Sue me for wanting to know if I was going to get to hear anything interesting.”

Her lips twitch a little like she’s trying not to smile. “It’s all pretty basic stuff, intro to this and that.”

“So long as you don’t expect me to do classwork for you.”

She finally sets down her phone. “Are you seriously going to come to my classes with me? Like, isn’t it enough to sit outside the room?”

“I don’t make the rules. I only follow them.”

“But that’s embarrassing. Isn’t it embarrassing to you?”

I don’t know if she’s deliberately trying to get under my skin or if she’s sincerely asking because she wants to know. “Why would I be embarrassed?” I finally grunt, wishing traffic would clear up so I can get moving faster again. At least then, I might have a reason to ignore her.

“I mean, having to sit through classes with me? All because somebody told you to?”

“It’s my job. Would you ask a professor if they were embarrassed because they had to stand in front of the room and teach you things? It’s what they get paid to do. Same thing for me.”

I glance her way in the mirror. “Besides, there are lots of rich kids who go to this school. I’m sure you won’t be the only one—and even if you are, they’ll be used to seeing bodyguards around. It only seems weird to you because you’re not used to it yet.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Why are you so hell-bent on taking everything I say as an insult? No, I said it because it’s the truth. You didn’t grow up the way these kids did, so it only seems strange to you. What’s so wrong about that?”

She folds her arms, staring out the window. “You made it sound like an insult. Like you looked down on me.”

“Trust me. If I look down on you, it doesn’t have anything to do with the way you grew up.”

“So you do look down on me.”

“Jesus Christ, Mia. Can we not?” I ask through gritted teeth. “You’re giving me a fucking headache.”

“Whatever.” She huffs and turns her head toward the window with the cutest little pout on her lips.