Page 14 of The Forbidden Bodyguard

As I met his eyes and caught a flicker of who he really was, I realized the man I called my father was incapable of loving me. That he would sell my soul to make money.

In some ways, that’s exactly what he was doing.

He never said how much money he owed, but I knew we had a lot. Hundreds of millions. So why wasn’t he paying the debt instead of offering me as payment?

Gag.

It was an answer he never gave.

Lying awake night after night since that meeting, I have begun to spiral out of control with fear. One thing was clear, and that was I needed my own independent security as quickly as possible.

Before I met Tony.

As far as everyone was concerned, I was marrying him. I hadn’t been able to tell my father to have a good swim in the Hudson and hope he got out of his mess alive.

He was right.

I couldn’t live with myself knowing I could have saved his life, as messed up as this all was.

Unless I can work out a way to get out of this mess, I will have to do it.

Or I risk my father being murdered.

Living with his blood on my conscience may be worse than living five years with Tony Marino. So, in some ways, I was prepared to meet him and see just how bad it would be.

At the age of thirty I could divorce and restart my life, and my children would have a grandfather.

Either way, I had made sure I was protected during any further interaction with him or my father. I didn’t trust either of them.

As for my mother, she had consoled me by saying, perhaps he’s right, honey. Five years feels like a long time at your age, but it really isn’t.

––––––––

A piece of my heart had crumbled, and I’d cried for hours when I got home, standing under the shower. Both of them had essentially told me my life was worth nothing.

The temptation to tell Charlotte so I could hear her tell me she cared and loved me was so strong. But keeping her safe and separate from all of this stopped me.

Instead, I’d done some research.

Tony Marino was fifteen years my senior, divorced, and looked cold as stone. He was linked with crimes, the worst kinds of crime families, and commonly referred to as The Blade.

The Blade.

I don’t have to be a creative fiction writer to connect the dots and work out how he got that name.

I had raced to the toilet and thrown up yet again. I was losing weight just from the worry.

The next day, I rang Barrett Security, who apologized for not having anyone available to help at short notice. They gave me the Black Hawke Security details. I was told it was owned by Navy SEAL Josh Hawke and that they were a professional organization with top former special forces who could provide me with the protection I needed.

“A Navy SEAL sounds good,” I told Josh after telling him I was meeting a man my family wanted me to marry and felt nervous. “Are you available?”

“I’m sorry; I’m based in Los Angeles, running the ship from here. But a former SEAL buddy is starting in our New York office, so your timing is good.”

Not really.

I wish I didn’t need a SEAL protecting me. I wish I didn’t have to marry some dangerous creep.

“I’ll send over the paperwork.”