Her Mafia Bodyguard

EPILOGUE

MIA

So much has changed in such a short time. I can hardly believe it when I look back on the beginning of last semester—I was so nervous, so sure everybody was staring, that Zeke and I were developing a reputation around campus. I dreaded it.

Now? There’s no question about it. I know we have a reputation. People were going to find out, weren’t they? By the time classes started up again, and we moved back into the condo—of course, the door was repaired by then, and Dad even saw to it the furniture was replaced so I would never have to see or touch anything related to Dean and that awful night—word had spread like wildfire.

When we walk across campus together, I know it’s on everybody’s minds. Zeke saved my life. Dean might have killed me, might have killed both of us. They still don’t know why. We’re the only ones who do, and it’s going to stay that way. But the story is powerful enough without the full truth being involved.

And I don’t care anymore. So what if they look at us? Let them. I’m finally sure of myself. I finally know my place in the world.

By Zeke’s side. As part of the Morelli family.

I can’t pretend everything Dad does meets with my approval, though he hasn’t shut down the idea of selling off the most unsavory parts of his business. Trafficking drugs is one thing, but people? I don’t know how long I’ll be able to sleep at night, knowing I’m improving the image of somebody who would profit from the misery of poor, helpless girls. He doesn’t care either way, so long as he’s still making money.

It’s not easy negotiating with him. He’s not used to anybody pushing back, especially not a woman. But I get the sense he respects me a little more every day. Maybe in another six months or a year, he might start fully trusting me. All it took was getting to know me a little.

“Digital marketing,” Zeke murmurs as we enter the building where the class is held. “What’s this one going to be about? Posting selfies on the Internet?”

I want to laugh, but that only encourages him, so I roll my eyes instead. “I think it’s a little deeper than that. And you’d better get used to it. I’m going to be taking a lot of classes like this now that I have a direction for my major.” It only makes sense that I would study business and marketing. I want to be an asset. I want to prove to my father that he was right to trust me—and Zeke. Especially Zeke.

“All I want is to get you back home,” he growls just loud enough for me to hear and no one else. “You haven’t come nearly enough times today.”

“I’m not going to disagree with that.” Meanwhile, like always, my pussy responds with a rush of warmth and wetness. That’s all it takes, nothing but the tiniest hint from him. I’m still buzzing from our time in the shower this morning. It’s amazing I’m able to walk. “Don’t forget, classes on the first day are always short.”

“Maybe we can find a broom closet.”

I only giggle and shake my head. I’m all about doing it in interesting places, but I don’t feel like getting kicked out of school for fucking in a closet on campus. One of us has to be the voice of reason here.

I’m so happy to see a familiar face in the classroom. Zoe waves, smiling wide, her hair now a bright shade of green. She was one of the first people to reach out once word spread, and she’s been nothing but fiercely supportive. I’m sure it wasn’t easy at first—she did like Dean, a lot, so finding out he had ulterior motives wasn’t easy for her to accept. I’m only glad she was able to accept the story about him being obsessed with me, that she didn’t question it. Neither did Posey, who now swears she always knew there was something weird about him.

I’m so lucky to have good people on my side.

I’m also lucky to have a bodyguard capable of scaring most of the guys on campus into leaving me alone with nothing more than a look in their direction. As far as they know, he threw a guy off a balcony to protect me. What would he do to them? It’s almost funny, watching them shift their weight and avert their eyes as I walk through the classroom to grab a seat next to my friend.

“Posey is going to meet us for lunch after this,” Zoe says. She then shoots a look toward the back of the room, where Zeke has settled in. “If the two of you have enough time for lunch, that is.” Her eyebrows move up and down, making me laugh. Am I blushing? I don’t even care.

“We have to eat sometime,” I whisper with a wink, and we laugh together. It’s funny. Shouldn’t I feel more cautious than ever, knowing now what I didn’t know before? That there is a legitimate reason somebody might want to come after me, thanks to my father’s line of work?

If anything, it’s the opposite. Now that I know who I am, who I come from, I feel stronger. Now that I’ve stood up for myself and been heard, I know my voice matters.

And now that I don’t have to pretend anymore that I don’t want Zeke, I’m free to express that part of myself. There’s a peace in being able to do that. It feels right. For the first time in my whole life, everything feels right.

My phone buzzes, and I reach for it, grinning when I see the message is from Zeke. Let’s set a record tonight, he suggests. I think seven in a row is the most I’ve been able to make you come so far. Let’s make it eight.

I give him a look over my shoulder. He’s pretending not to notice, but his mouth twitches at the corners. Why stop at eight? I text back. What about ten?

He answers with only two words: Challenge accepted.

God, I love this man. I love this life.

And for the first time, I finally feel like it’s my life. And I couldn’t be happier about that.

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