Alessandro Duvall

Chapter Five

CARLOTTA couldn't help but smile as vivid images of what was happening inside the stockroom played in her head. She was certain that if Belinda knew what she was thinking, she'd be accused of being a pervert. Good thing the stockroom walls were thick. Otherwise, the entire bar would be treated to some very special sound effects.

"Excuse me."

Carlotta looked up at the sound of the deep baritone voice. She was already wearing the customary smile she reserved for customers. But her smile froze the moment her eyes landed on the man behind that oh-so-yummy, undress-me-baby voice. It felt like her panties had just snapped and were threatening to fall down around her ankles.

Oh, my goodness, gracious, great balls of fire. Who is this man, and why are my ovaries in full-on meltdown mode?!

"Hey." Snap, snap. The man clicked his fingers in front of her face.

Her thoughts crash-landed back to earth.

"Y-yes?" she blinked, mortified that she'd just mentally undressed him in 4K resolution. Get it together, Carly. You're not in some romantic K-drama where the chaebol heir falls for the clumsy girl with trust issues and a tragic backstory.

She cleared her throat and tried to pretend her brain hadn't just short-circuited.

"I'm looking for someone," he said, his voice smooth enough to melt her bones.

"Someone? Does that someone have a name?"

If she hadn't heard him speak her language earlier, she would've assumed he was a tourist. A tourist who looked like Thor's long-lost twin.

The Thor-lookalike narrowed his brows in mild irritation at her question.

"I'm looking for Carlotta Madrigal."

Warning bells went off in Carlotta's head. Handsome or not, this guy might be another loan collector.

"Why are you looking for her?" she asked, her tone full of suspicion.

"I don't think that's any of your concern, lady."

Her eyebrow shot up. Rude.

"Well, what if I tell you you're not going to find her unless you tell me why you're looking for her?"

He stared at her for a long moment before his expression shifted.

"Wait a second. Don't tell me... damn. You're Carlotta Madrigal?"

She frowned at his reaction—as if the knowledge that she was the one he'd been looking for was somehow distasteful, like she wasn't someone he expected to see.

"What if I am the Carlotta Madrigal you're looking for, huh?" she said, a little too late to play dumb. Besides, this guy looked like he had a radar too sharp for her usual tricks to work. "But wait a damn minute. Who the heck are you, anyway?"

"I'm Alessandro Duvall. Starting today, I will be your shadow."

"W-what?"

"You heard it right, lady."

"W-why?" her why came out way too dramatic she practically wanted to smack herself.

"Because you're Giovanni Galliardi's bride. It's my job to watch over you. And get to know you."

"W-wait, wait. Who exactly are you?"

"Let's just say I'm his personal assistant."

She was about to bombard him with more questions when the name he mentioned finally registered in her mind. Giovanni Galliardi. But before she could press him for more details, customers started pouring in. And with her friend still occupied in the stockroom, there was no one else to mix cocktails for their thirsty regulars but her.

"Let's continue this conversation later. Find yourself a corner or something," she told Alessandro as the first orders came in.

He gave a slight nod, the kind that said he could manage on his own.

Moments later, Carlotta was neck-deep in orders, barely able to catch her breath. Even with other staff around, it was always a circus whenever the bar got this busy. She was lucky if she could rest for ten minutes.

She glanced back at where Alessandro had been standing. But he was no longer there. When she asked their bouncer, Murphy, if he'd noticed the man she was talking to earlier, he simply shook his head. But if she remembered correctly, the guy did say he'd be her shadow. So chances were, he was still nearby. Watching. Keeping tabs.

But who was he, really? And why did he have to keep an eye on her?

Most importantly—who the hell was Giovanni Galliardi?!

***

MEANWHILE, Alessandro silently observed the bar from his corner, occasionally sipping from a bottle of beer. He limited himself to three bottles max, so he drank slowly. Besides, he was currently on Don Salvatorre Galliardi's turf. In their world, you could never tell friend from foe.

His gaze returned to the woman behind the bar.

Tsk. What on earth did that old man see in her?

Giovanni Galliardi usually went for the supermodel type. What made Don Salvatorre think his son would go for someone like her? Then again, he shouldn't underestimate the don. Nothing that man did was simple.

Don Salvatorre was a complex man. He never made decisions based on necessity or morality. Every move he made was calculated. There had to be a reason behind this one, too.

***

CARLOTTA waved goodbye to Murphy, who hesitated to leave her after closing the bar. He'd seen Alessandro standing in a shadowy part of the parking lot. Someone with untrained eyes wouldn't have noticed him, but Murphy used to be on the force—he was sharp. He'd only left the job because he couldn't keep pretending to be someone he wasn't under that hyper-masculine uniform.

From the corner of her eye, Carlotta saw Alessandro walking toward her. She'd been dying to talk to him again. She had so many questions, especially about Giovanni Galliardi. How did she become his intended bride all of a sudden when she thought she was marrying Don Salvatorre?

Yep, she'd already accepted her fate. There was no point hoping her situation would change. She might as well get used to it. However, she was confused. Who the heck really is her groom?

"You need money?" Carlotta looked at Alessandro's outstretched hand, clearly puzzled.

"Fuck," Giovanni muttered almost inaudibly, rubbing his nape in frustration.

Carlotta scowled at him in annoyance.

"I'm asking for your car keys, woman."

"Why?"

"Enough with your endless questions. We need to leave. Now."

"Well, I need to ask why. Why can't you just answer my question straight?"

"Let's get you home first. I'll answer everything. Capisci?"

"Excuse me?"

Instead of answering, he snatched the keys from her hand and pointed the key fob toward the parking lot to locate her car. Then, without a word, he grabbed her arm, opened the door for her, and all but tossed her into the passenger seat like a sack of rice. Before she could even fasten her seatbelt, the car was already speeding down the road.

"Hey! Can you slow down a bit?! I'm way too young to die. I haven't even seen what a real, ten-inch dick looks like!"

When he slowed down, she let out a sigh of relief. Her heart was pounding like mad. She turned to give him a piece of her mind, but noticed he kept glancing at the side mirror, eyes sharp.

"Is... someone following us?" she asked nervously.

"Yes."

"Then lose them. Don't take me home yet."

"You sure?"

"Didn't I just say that?" she snapped, eyes wide.

"I have a better idea."

"What?"

"I'll take you to my place. No one knows where it is."

She side-eyed him. "I... hardly know you."

He grinned. "Doesn't that make it more exciting for girls like you?"

"Says who?"

He just smirked. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"That you haven't seen what a real ten-inch dick looks like?"

Oh, shit. Her cheeks flamed red. Why did she always have to say the most embarrassing things?!

"I'm not sure if Giovanni's dick is about that size, though."

"Just who the heck is this Giovanni Galliardi you keep mentioning anyway?" she quickly changed the topic to cover her embarrassment.

"He's Don Salvatorre's youngest son. The don bought you to be his bride."

Bought.

The word sounded so crude. But it was the truth. Her brother Tyron had practically sold her off to pay his massive gambling debt at the casino.

"How old is he?"

"Who?"

"Your boss. Giovanni Galliardi."

"He's thirty-three."

Well, if there was any consolation in this twisted mess, at least the man she was going to marry wasn't some old, decrepit geezer.

But wait—did she hear that right?

He said he was going to be her shadow. As in... bodyguard? Seriously?

"And you were assigned to be my bodyguard?" she asked, just to confirm—though she was painfully aware she sounded a little slow.

"Yes, in a sense."

"In a sense? That's basically the same thing."

OMG. A walking Greek statue with trust issues and a control kink is now her bodyguard—in a sense?

What is this? Twilight: Mafia Edition?

Fantastic. Just what every girl dreams of. A brooding, bossy bodyguard who probably treats emotions like a virus and drinks black coffee like it's a moral code.