“So far all you’ve done is break my door, scare my friend, and make obvious statements.” I give him the full benefit of the gaze I learned from my father. There’s a way to look at a man to get to the very core of him. But the longer I look at him, the less I see. It's like he’s empty on the inside. Hollowed out in some way which makes him more dangerous than most. I’m left with the superficial to judge him by.
He’s handsome. The kind of handsome that makes even a girl like me quiver inside. I know danger when I see it, and it is pulsing off him in waves.
“Your father didn't send you here to get high," he growls. "You're here to get an education.”
"What do you care?” I smirk, taking another long sip of my Prosecco.
“You’re not old enough to drink.”
“In Italy I am.”
“We're not in Italy,” he growls. “You’re going to stop sassing me and start listening, Mia.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’m going to tear that scrap of fabric you call a dress off you and spank your ass until you scream.”
“Who are you, exactly?” I change the subject as heat flares through my body. Nobody touches daddy’s princess. I’ve always gotten away with everything. But I think that might all be about to change.
“I’m watching you," he says. “That's all you need to know, Mia. That, and if you put so much as a toe out of line, you’re going to answer to me.”
“Your cover is blown, dude, just admit it. What are you? FBI? Mafia? CIA? What family are you working for? If I call my father, is he going to know exactly who you are?”
“If you call your father, he’ll have you taken back to Italy before you can say the word ecstasy,” he growls. “You know that as well as I do.”
“So he did send you. Let me guess. You’re like a bodyguard.”
“I’m not like a bodyguard. I am one. He wanted you to have a normal life, Mia. So I was sent to look out for you at a distance.”
"Well, you've done an awesome fucking job carrying out his wishes, haven't you, asshole," I snap. I am pissed. I like to forget about the mafia side of my life as much as possible, but this douchebag just broke my door down, and now he’s messing with my mind.
“I wasn’t in any danger. You didn’t need to come charging in here like a bull. You came and fucked up my place because I was licking some guy’s… tip?”
His eyes flare at me. There’s jealousy there. I wasn’t wrong. This guy wants what every guy wants: my body. Apparently, being employed by my father has given him some sense of entitlement. He’s hot, but being hot isn't enough for me to let him walk into my life and fuck it all up.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I order. “And don't come back.”
“Don’t come back?” He lifts a dark brow at me. “You think you can speak to me that way?”
“I do. Because you’re a pawn in my father’s game. I’m the queen.”
He laughs at me. Not an amused laugh, a mocking laugh. The kind of laugh that grown men give little girls who think they’re too big for their britches. He’s not taking me seriously. He thinks he’s in control because he has my father’s authority behind him. So do I.
“You need a lesson in respect, Mia.”
The way he says my name is intimate, like he knows me. I wonder how long he has been watching me. How much he has seen. There’s equipment which allows people to see through walls. And his cameras are probably all over my apartment.
I feel a strange sense of violation, arousal, and annoyance. Oh, and attraction. So much fucking attraction. I’ve never hated anybody this much. I’ve also never… no, I can’t even think that word.
“You’re the one who needs a lesson in respect,” I say, but my voice is not strong. It wavers with what I hope isn’t fear. Am I afraid of him? I probably should be. My father’s men are killers. “You’re here to protect me, not threaten me.”
“The way you act, little girl, you need protection from yourself more than anybody else.”
I love the way he speaks. His accent flows in fits and starts. Sometimes Bostonian, sometimes Italian. The combination is aurally startling. As is he.
He crosses the distance between us with the lithe movement of a big cat, and reaches for me, his big hand wrapping around my upper arm. His touch sends liquid fire flashing through my body, right to the core of me. I have to crane my head to look up at him, and when I do, I am caught in his intensity. This is a broken man. I can feel it in his gaze. This is no honorable soldier. He’s too powerful to be on guard duty. My father wouldn’t waste a man like him as a babysitter. He has high rank written all over him. If he’s here, it’s because he’s been a bad boy.