Uncovered

Chapter Seven

WHY on earth did I argue with that man?

That was the first thought that popped into Carlotta's head the moment she opened her eyes.

If she really thought about it, she didn't even know Don Salvatorre. Meanwhile, Alessandro had probably rubbed elbows with the feared Don more than a few times. No wonder he carried such heavy resentment toward her future father-in-law.

Future father-in-law, huh? The thought made her scowl. She climbed out of bed and stretched.

She had eaten way too much the night before. Time to burn some of those calories—or she'd end up bloated again. She gained weight ridiculously fast. Not that she could stop herself from indulging. Food was comfort.

Without her yoga mat, she spread out the towel Jaime had lent her the night before. She wasn't even dressed properly—just a gray oversized T-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh. She wasn't sure whose it was. Jaime had handed it to her with the towel as something to change into. But whatever—it would do. She needed to stick to her regular yoga stretches to maintain her figure, especially now that she was creeping up on thirty. Twenty-seven, to be exact. Staying in shape got harder with age.

She began her upper body warm-up, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Then, she moved into her yoga flow. She was so wrapped up in her own world, she didn't hear the door creak open...

Alessandro had been about to knock on the guest room door when he noticed it was already ajar. As he pushed it open slightly—boom—his eyes were instantly met with the sight of Carlotta's bent-over backside. 

For a full thirty seconds, he stood frozen in place, his feet glued to the floor as his gaze trailed helplessly along the length of her legs... all the way up to the round, firm curve of her ass.

Oh, fuck.

When he'd first met Carlotta Madrigal, he hadn't expected this. She wore loose clothes, and her face—while not unpleasant—was hidden behind big rimmed glasses, giving nothing away. But now, flushed and dewy with sweat, cheeks tinged pink as she moved through her routine, she was... stunningly beautiful.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Alessandro spun away from the door like a guilty teenager. Every drop of blood in his body seemed to have surged all at once.

Fuck, I need to get laid.

"Sir—" Jaime's voice cut in.

"She's still sleeping," Alessandro lied smoothly, steering him back toward the kitchen. As usual, Jaime was wearing a floral apron.

"For God's sake, take that fucking thing off. It's an eyesore."

Jaime quickly removed the apron without question.

Carlotta fluffed out the towel she'd used for her workout. Nothing felt better than sweating after a long stretch session. That's when she noticed the door.

Crap. Did I forget to close it after I went to the bathroom?

There wasn't one inside the guest room, so when she needed to pee just before dawn, she'd had to step out. She must not have pulled the door all the way shut when she got back.

Which meant...

What if someone saw me while I was working out?!

Bent over and stretching, no less! And the only two people around were men.

Cautiously, she tiptoed to the door and peeked into the hallway. Empty. Still, something about it unsettled her.

Tss. You're overthinking again, Carly, she scolded herself.

She gathered her things and wrapped the towel around herself, then grabbed her bag and headed into the guest bathroom. Thank goodness she always carried pantyliners. Since she hadn't expected to spend the night, she didn't bring even a single pair of underwear.

She spotted a sealed bar of bath soap and some women's shampoo and conditioner on the shelf. The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile. Jaime must've prepared them for her. Between the two men, she'd likely get along better with him. Unlike Alessandro, who seemed way too brash and bossy for a bodyguard. She'd be sure to give him a piece of her mind when she got the chance.

She stepped into the shower—completely naked—and let the warm water run over her. Fifteen minutes in, she was blissfully relaxed when someone knocked on the bathroom door.

"Hurry up. Your breakfast is getting cold," Alessandro called from outside.

Carlotta rolled her eyes and sighed in annoyance. If there was one thing she hated, it was being interrupted mid-shower.

"I don't care if it freezes solid," she snapped back. Buzz off.

"Okay."

Once she heard his footsteps leave, she returned to her shower. She took her time. Whether he waited or not wasn't her problem. Bathing was sacred to her, especially in the morning. She never felt fully awake until she'd soaked her skin.

Forty-five minutes later, she emerged, fully dressed with a towel wrapped around her head to keep her wet hair from dripping.

"I get the feeling you'll glow in the dark during a blackout."

Carlotta turned to see Alessandro, freshly showered and now dressed in a pair of worn, faded jeans and a dark blue tee that hugged his frame in all the right places. He looked... rugged. Masculine. Every inch of him radiated testosterone.

Delish, she thought, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

"Eat your breakfast while I check on your car," he said, already starting to walk away when she called out.

"Wait—I have a question."

He turned to face her. "Go ahead."

"Between the two of us, who's the boss here?"

"Excuse me?"

"If I understand this correctly, Giovanni assigned you to be my bodyguard, right?"

Alessandro's face went unreadably blank. "Yes."

"In that case, stop barking orders at me like you're in charge. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

Carlotta raised a brow. She noticed the subtle twitch of his jaw—tension. Something told her Giovanni didn't exactly treat him like an employee, which explained the attitude.

Well, don't get smart with me.

"Do you have any other royal commands, Your Highness?" he replied dryly, sarcasm thick in his voice.

Instead of getting angry, Carlotta found herself amused. She actually enjoyed the way his brow creased and how his jaw twitched ever so slightly.

For a bodyguard, Alessandro Duvall is surprisingly arrogant. Clearly not used to being bossed around. "That'll be all. You may go," she said dismissively, waving him off like a queen.

To her delight, he gave a half-mocking bow before leaving.

"Ma'am, would you like a hair dryer?" Jaime asked, appearing like a guardian angel, hair dryer in hand.

Carlotta almost kissed him. "Oh, my gosh, thank you! You're really heaven-sent, Jaime."

"It's nothing, Ma'am. Would you like me to reheat your breakfast while you dry your hair?"

"Got any fruit? Two bananas would be perfect. I'll just eat them on the way. Someone seems to be in a hurry to leave."

"Lakatan, Ma'am. Is that okay?"

"Perfect."

Soon enough, they were on the road back to the city. The ride was mostly silent, though Carlotta caught Alessandro sneaking glances at her a few times. She kept her focus on eating the banana Jaime had packed—an entire bunch, actually. Jaime was so thoughtful. Unlike someone who sat beside her like a cold marble statue.

Alessandro only spoke when he needed directions to her house.

At least he knows how to follow instructions, she noted as he smoothly navigated the streets.

But when they arrived, an unexpected guest was already waiting for her—Janine.

Before she could greet her friend, Carlotta spotted her brother Tyron coming down from upstairs, hauling a bunch of his belongings.

"Hold it right there," she blocked his path.

Just like their father Franz had warned, Tyron had officially been kicked out of the house. But from the looks of it, neither parent was home—and Tyron was trying to sneak away with whatever he could.

"Get out of my way unless you want to get hurt," he growled.

"Try me," she shot back.

"Oh, acting all tough now, huh? Is that because of Don Salvatorre Galliardi?"

"I don't need to name-drop anyone. Papa was clear—you are leaving this house without taking a single thing."

"These are my things!"

"From what I can see, that painting isn't. Especially that painting."

She pointed at the canvas he quickly tried to hide behind his back.

It wasn't even that big—but it was painted by a well-known artist and easily worth over a hundred thousand pesos.

"Stop me if you can."

Carlotta tensed, ready to physically stop him—when a familiar voice spoke from behind.

"What's going on here?" Alessandro asked.

She had almost forgotten she had a bodyguard.

"That man is a thief. Feel free to toss him out. He's a human trash."

"You bitch!"

Before Tyron could lunge, Carlotta yanked the painting from his hands. Alessandro, wasting no time, lifted Tyron off the ground—despite the guy's size—and hauled him out of the house like it was nothing.

"Remember this—I'll come back for you!" Tyron yelled before speeding off in his beat-up Volkswagen Beetle.

Carlotta could only glare after him, teeth gritted.

"I'm sorry, Carly... we tried to stop him, but we couldn't," Nanay Zeny said, their mayordoma.

"It's alright, 'Nay. Just please return everything he touched to its place."

With help from the other house staff, the mess Tyron had left in the living room was quickly cleaned up.

Janine shifted awkwardly beside her. "I think I came at a bad time. Maybe we should talk another day."

Carlotta wanted to stop her—but all she could do was nod. Bad timing, indeed.

The emotional rollercoaster with Tyron had drained her.

When will he stop being a thorn in my side?

"You okay?" Alessandro asked suddenly.

"Yeah, I guess. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Just doing my job."

Right. Not bad for his first day on the job.

"Keep it up—I might just give you a raise," she said with a teasing smile, giving him a slow, playful tap on the back.