บททั้งหมดของ HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

PROLOGUEI was seven years old, fully decked out in metal braces that glinted in the sunlight much to my chagrin and those wide-rimmed glasses that made my face look rounder than it already was, when the Washingtons moved across the street into the fanciest townhouse in Everwood Cove. The movers had arrived the day before, and judging by the six massive moving vans clogging the narrow street, it was clear that whoever was moving in had to be loaded. The kind of loaded my mom always whispered about with raised eyebrows and a tilt of her head, as if to suggest it was a bit obscene. She had peeked through the window much like every other neighbour on this street, muttering a few judgemental nonsensicals. Typical mum.The next day, right around noon, the family of three rolled into town in their sleek, jet-black BMW with windows so tinted you couldn’t tell if someone was inside unless the door swung open. And when it did, they stepped out like something out of a movie. That was the first

CHAPTER THREE: A LONELY NIGHTDo you know what sucks more than your husband getting a PR crisis on your anniversary night? It’s knowing your best friend is miles away on a different continent, and asleep. I glance at the clock on my phone. It’s nearly four in the morning wherever she is, and I know she’ll be waking up soon for work. It would be rude to call her now, even though I’m desperate to hear her voice, to have someone to vent to, someone who gets it. I miss her so much.So, here I am, sitting on the terrace, staring out at the beach. The soft crash of the waves and the salty breeze do little to soothe the restlessness bubbling in my chest. A half-empty bottle of wine sits next to me, and I lazily twirl the glass in my hand, watching the liquid catch the light from the string of fairy lights overhead. Inside, the ball is still in full swing. The sound of distant laughter and clinking glasses filters out through the open doors. For a second, I stare at the entrance hoping that

Chapter 5CHAPTER FIVE: DINNER WITH THE FOLKSI’m staring at the out of the kitchen window, armed with a cup of milk coffee but barely aware of my surroundings. Its been almost two weeks since I moved to the guest bedroom for my own peace of mind as I tried to comprehend everything. It all still felt surreal. I haven’t talked to anyone and neither have I been able to go to work. In my state, I’m pretty fragile to be operating on patients. Thankfully, my boss is the understanding kind. Everyday, there is nothing I’ve always looked forward to than waking up in the morning and heading to work. Until now. It almost feels like all the life has been sucked out of my very soul.“Hey,” Mark’s voice fills the kitchen. I feel the pain return. That intensified burning ache in my chest. The one I can’t shake off no matter how much I try. The kind of pain is too hard to even tell your best friend about. Mainly, because I’m still in denial. How can I accept that the man I’ve been in love with forev

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

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