Her Mafia Bodyguard

ZEKEMy shoes click on the marble floor of the passage leading from the employee quarters to the main house. It’s only minutes after my phone rang, the voice on the other end inviting me to join him in his office. It might be well past midnight, and I might’ve already been in bed when he called, but I know better than to keep the boss waiting. Besides, I’m used to these last-minute emergencies. I doubt I’ve slept deeply in years.Mr. Morelli is in his office, in the east wing of the house. The mansion is bigger than anything I ever imagined living in back in the day. Though it’s not mine, and it never will be. I’m a hired hand. My position is still one of the elite ones in the Morelli family, but it’s also the most precarious. One false step and I’m out on my ass.And that would be a best-case scenario kind of thing. Worst case, and probably closer to reality? They’d find me somewhere with half my head blown off, my teeth and fingers missing to make identification more of a challenge.

ZEKE“Turn on some music.”My response is to stare straight ahead through the windshield. The way I’ve been for the past hour. I don’t even glance up at the rearview mirror, where I know I’d find Mia glaring daggers straight through me.“Hello? Did you go deaf? Music. It’s too quiet in here.”Again, she gets nothing from me. My hands tighten around the wheel, and I can’t help but imagine them tightening around her slender neck. It’s bad enough I spend most of my waking moments reminding myself how dangerous it would be to give in to my craving for her. Why does she have to make it so much more difficult?Then again, maybe I should thank her. Hating her is so much easier than wanting her.Though the level of intensity is about the same.She mutters something under her breath. “Zeke. I know you can hear me. I’m only asking you to put some music on… please.” She whispers the last part.“Huh? Sorry, I guess I couldn’t hear you. It’s this funny problem I have. My ears don’t pick up when pe

ZEKEShe meant it about eating in her room. She came out just long enough to fix a plate of spaghetti and sauce, then marched down the hall and slammed the door again. I would’ve pointed out her father won’t like having to pay for a new door this soon, but I didn’t feel like having my head cut off.What the fuck am I supposed to do with her? We haven’t been here for two hours, and already, the tension is enough to break the walls. She has no idea how close I came to throwing her over my knee and spanking the shit out of her for being such a little brat. Talking to me like she did, making it sound like I’m her father’s errand boy. A lapdog? The little tease is lucky I have self-control, or else she wouldn’t be able to sit for days by the time I finished with her ass.She has no idea who she’s dealing with. I told myself from the beginning she would never know. The past is the past and all that. I did what I had to do. Looking after her might be boring, but it’s a reprieve from all the

ZEKE“Don’t you dare fucking march around like you’re the one with a reason to be angry,” I warn her on the way back into the building. There’s a separate entrance from the garage, leading straight to the elevator without the humiliation of walking through the lobby with her so obviously furious. I don’t feel like getting red-flagged by management, especially so soon after we’ve moved in.“Would you drop the act already?” She tosses her hair, and I have to pretend the scent doesn’t light me on fire. “Daddy isn’t here to give you a gold star. And I’m not impressed with you.”“Maybe you should be.” We get on the elevator, and I punch the button. “Because all it would take is a quick phone call.”“A quick phone call, huh? Stop, or I’ll piss myself.” Another hair toss. It’s almost enough to make me want to cut it off.“You think I’m joking?”“Considering he would have your ass in a sling, not mine, yeah. It’s pretty goddamn funny.” She folds her arms, tapping her foot on the floor before

ZEKEThis is so goddamn boring.I have to keep telling myself how much worse things could be. I could be out there wondering where my next paycheck’s coming from. I could be stealing, or worse, in prison, all because I was trying to find a way to put food in my mouth at the end of the day.When I look at it that way, sitting in this lecture hall, lurking around in the back like I’m not supposed to be here—which I’m not, really—is a pretty cushy gig. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.Especially when I have to sit here behind Mia and watch her every move. Do I technically need to follow the way her fingers fly over her laptop keys? Do I have to notice every time she shifts her weight, every time she twirls a strand of hair around a finger as she’s listening to the instructor? Her father didn’t order me to trace the curves of her body with my eyes, either, but that’s exactly what I’m doing this morning. She’s so fucking tempting. Right in front of me, and I’m not allowed to touch. How m