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11. THE CHARITY GALA
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2025-07-16 21:53:01
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HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 11. THE CHARITY GALA
CHAPTER ELEVENTHE CHARITY GALAIt’s strange, really, how quickly your world can fall apart. One moment, you’re standing on solid ground, the perfect life you’ve spent years molding resting in your hands. And the next? It all crumbles.All it takes is one fucking tiny crack. One moment of weakness, one betrayal, and the illusion shatters like glass underfoot.The charity gala is still going according to plan. The chandeliers glitter above us like nothing’s wrong. I’ve already delivered my speech with the kind of poise that wins headlines and admiration. Now, I stand off to the side, draining one champagne flute after another, my gaze locked on the stage where Mark and his father speak to the crowd, charismatic smiles perfectly rehearsed.Just a few feet back, Evelyn hovers, so poised, professional, and just distant enough to keep up appearances. Dressed in an emerald green pantsuit that matches the color scheme I picked. If I didn’t know the truth, she might’ve fooled me too.“You mig
HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 10. A SUPRISE GUEST
CHAPTER TENA SURPRISE GUESTMy parents can’t find out about his cheating. That was the very first condition I gave him. Second: no one and I mean, no single fucking person in the outside world hears a whisper of his infidelity or the child that’s come out of it, not until I say so.Third: he cuts off all personal contact with Evelyn. If they must speak for professional reasons, it can only be in the presence of others. No private meetings. No messages. No late-night phone calls under the guise of work.These weren’t suggestions. These were terms.Now, with my shift at the hospital over, I’ve got the next three days off. Diane’s gone to Everwood Cove to visit her parents, which means I have no solid plans except to breathe and maybe, just maybe, remember what peace feels like.Right now, I’m stuck in traffic, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with Taylor Swift’s voice blasting through my speakers. The volume’s too high. I don’t care. It keeps my mind from spirali
HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 9. MIMOSAS, AMEX BLACK CARDS & NEW CARS
CHAPTER NINEMIMOSAS, AMEX BLACK CARD & NEW CARSWhat’s the best way to win a game, especially when you know your opponent already has the upper hand?You stay quiet. Stealthy. You make them believe they’ve got you exactly where they want you. You let them feel like they’re in control. That’s how you win. In my case, the edge Mark has over me, is the wealth and power his name holds.For the past two weeks, I’ve played the part of the heartbroken wife. But not the pitiful kind, the sobbing-on-the-floor, mascara-running kind. No. I’ve played the kind who feeds the illusion. The one who offers just enough vulnerability to keep him hopeful. The kind who makes him believe that maybe, just maybe, he can still win her back.Take three days ago, for example. He bought me a brand-new Lamborghini Urus, black on black, like he thought a shiny toy would erase the betrayal. And this morning? He casually left his Amex Black card on the kitchen island, told me to treat myself to whatever the hell I w
HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 8. TERMS & CONDITIONS
CHAPTER EIGHTTERMS & CONDITIONSI’m not much of a drinker. Honestly, I’d rather be in my home gym, pounding the hell out of the punching bag whenever the weight of life starts pressing down. That kind of physical release; that’s my therapy. But tonight? Tonight, I’m three glasses of wine deep, and the buzz is creeping in just as fast as the cold, harsh truth of my reality. It’s setting in with every sip, like a tide I can’t hold back.This is my life now. What a fucking joke!For the past hour, ever since my mother-in-law walked out of my front door and left me sitting in silence, I’ve been trying to deny it all. I even called my lawyer, desperate to find a crack in the prenup. A loophole, a technicality, anything that could help me crawl out of this mess with my dignity and wallet intact.No such luck.According to her, there’s only one way out of this marriage without handing over a cent: make him file for the divorce. If he does that, I walk away with a jaw-dropping fifty million
HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 7. FLOWERS & BANDS
CHAPTER SEVENFLOWERS & BANDSI’m angry. No cross that. I’m fucking pissed off. The sound of my heels coming into loud, rhythmic contact with the polished floor, is barely registering in my mind. My thoughts are only concentrated on that one door at the end of the floor and in my hand is a huge bouquet of roses.“How are you Mrs.-““Not now Terry,” I walk past his secretary, badging into his office without word. He looks up from his laptop, recognition flooding his gaze when I slapped the roses on top of his desk.“What the fuck is wrong with you? Sending flowers to my work place and hiring some band to sing me a love song?” I’m livid and rightfully so.“I thought you’d like it,” he answers, leaning back on his seat, his chest appearing broader. There was a time I would have found that sexy. But not anymore.“You thought I’d like it? Even after all these years, you still don’t know me,” I shake my head, “Making me the center of attention at my work place won’t get you forgiveness from
HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 6. JUST ONE LITTLE LIE
CHAPTER SIXJUST ONE LITTLE LIEJust how long can you pretend before you cave in and every emotion is displayed for everybody to see? Well, I wouldn’t know the answer to that. I can’t tell whether I’ve been putting a front for too long that I’ve gotten accustomed to acting like I’m living my best life even when I’m at a point of losing my shit. Take this exact moment for example. I’m smiling ear to ear, pretending to blush every time Mark compliments me. He is going an extra mile today. He probably read every single seduction book in his bookshelf.“I keep telling them I want grandkids but they just never listen to me,” Mrs. Washington says.Kids. Fuck1 I’d wanted that. But with my Mark. Not this man sitting beside me, acting like the most loyal human being you’ll ever meet. Now, I was not sure anymore. Heck. I had no fucking idea what exactly I wanted anymore.“They are just kids Barbara. Give them a rest,” Mr. Washington, usually the very quiet, stoic man he is, chimes in, focusing
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