Все главы HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD : Глава 21 - Глава 30

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEPHASE ONEWhen Diane and I were younger, we used to sit for hours imagining what heartbreak was supposed to feel like, discussing it with the dramatic seriousness only teenagers can manage. Back then we had been absolutely convinced that heartbreak was a temporary inconvenience rather than the soul-crushing experience it actually turns out to be. We had watched what must have been hundreds of chick flicks and high school romance movies together, and every single one of them made the entire process of getting over someone look ridiculously simple. According to those films, all a girl needed to recover from a devastating breakup was a few nights spent crying through a couple of sad movies, a generous supply of ice cream, and eventually she would move on to someone far hotter and far more perfect than the guy who broke her heart in the first place.I have done all of that.I have cried through an entire collection of old, depressing movies until my eyes burned and my t

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEA PIECE OF THE PASTThe Old Tavern looks nothing like its name suggests, and honestly, it never really has. Back when Diane and I had just turned eighteen, we used to sneak in here with poorly made fake IDs, convinced we were far more convincing than we actually were. We thought we were so slick, slipping past the door with nervous excitement buzzing through us, only to later discover that the staff had probably known all along and simply did not care enough to stop us. Our parents, however, had cared very much when they eventually found out, and the month-long grounding that followed had been nothing short of brutal.Now, standing outside it again, I notice how much it has changed and yet somehow stayed exactly the same. The Old Tavern has taken on more of a dive bar aesthetic over the years, with worn wooden panels, dimmer lighting, and an atmosphere that feels a little rough around the edges. Still, I cannot find it in myself to mind the transformation. There i

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVEROSES & THORNSMark and I have barely exchanged a single word since I walked back into this house. Not while I cleaned up the disaster he had been living in, not when he disappeared upstairs to pull himself together, and not even now as we sit across from each other at the dining table, eating in a silence so thick it almost feels intentional. He ordered takeout; my favorite, of course, as though that small, thoughtful gesture could somehow bridge the massive crack that has split our marriage wide open.I scroll through my phone instead of engaging, catching up on missed updates from the hospital group chat, letting the steady stream of messages distract me from the uncomfortable reality sitting right in front of me. I barely pay attention to the food I am eating.My boss, Irene, has been relentless in her insistence that I take at least another week off before returning to work. If anything, she has escalated from concern to outright threats, strongly suggesting-n

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENSO DAMN HOTFor the better part of the last two months, I had convinced myself that the most dramatic, life-altering thing that could possibly happen to me had already happened. My husband cheated, shattered everything I thought we had built, and left me standing in the wreckage of a marriage I had believed was untouchable. That, I had assumed, was the peak of chaos.Clearly, I had underestimated life.Because now I am standing in my own garden, a glass of ridiculously expensive wine in my hand-the same one Mark insisted on buying by the case during our trip to France last spring-watching everything unravel in a completely different way. He had nearly bought me a vineyard that day after I casually mentioned how much I loved the place, as though grand gestures could substitute for something real. I had believed then. We were in a great place in our marriage. Hell, I'd thought romantic. The memory drifts through my mind, like it belongs to a different version of me

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINEI WANT TO KISS YOUI have no idea how many times I caught myself stealing glances at Dante throughout the night, or how many times something sharp and unfamiliar twisted inside me whenever another woman so much as attempted to flirt with him. None of it makes sense, and yet it keeps happening rather persistently, like something I cannot quite control.He is single. If anything, he should be free to entertain whoever he wants, to enjoy the attention, to explore whatever options come his way.So why do I care?The question lingers unanswered, as we step out of the bar and grill, the cool night air brushing against my skin as the city hums around us. The lights of New York stretch endlessly, alive and quite restless, mirroring the noise in my own head.Throughout the evening, he had remained at his table, positioned just close enough to keep watch and just far enough to give me space. And yet, every single time my gaze drifted in his direction, it felt like he already