Page 53 of Her Mafia Bodyguard


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MIA

Ican’t believe how hard I’m shaking. I think I’m going to be sick.

“Answer it,” Zeke urges me in a strangled voice. “He’ll be worried if you don’t.”

Right, but what happens when I answer, and he starts screaming at me? Don’t be stupid. He won’t do that. He doesn’t know what you’ve been doing. No, maybe not, but why does it feel like he does? If he wanted me to spend the rest of my life feeling like he’s watching, directly over my shoulder, he succeeded. It’s actually kind of sick in a way.

“Mia.” The way Zeke barks my name snaps me out of it. Right. I have to get it together.

“Hi, Daddy,” I chirp on answering. A look at Zeke tells me I did a good job. I don’t sound suspicious at all.

“Hello, sweetheart. You sound happy.” Sure, I was getting felt up by the bodyguard you sent to watch over me. Yeah, that would go over really well. I should definitely start with that.

“No reason not to be.” I pull on a jacket and step outside. The chill in the air feels good against my flushed skin. The heat in my cheeks starts to cool off. “How are you?”

“About as well as can be.” So why is there a hint of regret in his voice?

“Are you taking care of yourself? You’re not throwing all-night parties now that I’m not around, right?”

That gets him to laugh. “Not lately. Actually, sweetheart, I was more concerned with disappointing you.”

For one heart-stopping second, I think, this is it. He’s going to tell me Zeke won’t be my bodyguard anymore. He’ll give me one reason or another, some bullshit excuse like wanting to move him to a different job or needing him closer to home. Something like that. And when he does, I won’t have any room to argue. I could say something about him making me feel safe, maybe, and about how long it took us to fall into a comfortable groove here. How I wouldn’t want to go through that again, especially when I should be paying attention to schoolwork.

“What’s up?” I ask when I realize I haven’t responded. I need to shape up quick, or else he’s going to ask if I’ve been doing drugs or something like that. He’s always so suspicious.

But no, he’s too busy being concerned about what he’s about to tell me. “I’m sure you’ve been looking forward to coming home for Thanksgiving break. I know I’ve been looking forward to having you here. But it’s looking like we won’t be able to make that happen.”

Well, talk about coming out of left field. “Oh. Okay.” I lean on the railing, a little stunned.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand,” I lie. Where is this coming from? “I’m sure I can stay here that week.”

“Of course. It’s not like you’re living in a dorm. They’re not going to shut down.”

“Right, sure.” Now I’m just saying words without really hearing them. “Is everything okay, though? Are you all right? You’re not sick or anything, are you?”

He gives me one of those indulgent chuckles that sets my teeth on edge. If we were face-to-face right now, he would pat me on the head. “You are so sweet to be concerned.”

“Well, I mean, it’s kind of a big holiday. I figure there has to be a reason.”

“And there is, but it’s nothing like that.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I pause, waiting to see if he’ll explain. He doesn’t. “So what’s going on? Some big surprise you have planned for me?”

I didn’t expect him to laugh, not the way he does. Like he’s been found out. “How did you know?”

I stand straight, looking back over my shoulder into the living room. Zeke’s in there, pacing with his arms folded. Our eyes meet, and I shrug. Is there something he knows that I don’t?

Dad barrels over any questions I’m about to ask. “To tell you the truth, it has something to do with business. I’ll be traveling and making arrangements for a deal.”

Oh. That. Why did he think I would care about that? “I see.” I should’ve known.

“We’ll talk all about it when you’re home for winter break. It’s only another few weeks after that.”

As if I don’t know exactly when winter break comes up. As if I’m not practically counting the minutes. Some people sort of dread going home for break because it means giving up the freedom they’ve gotten used to while living at college. For me, it’s the opposite. I won’t have to get up for class, which means I’ll be able to sleep in as long as I want. Dad would never bother me unless I needed to make an appearance at a function where he wanted to make a good impression. I hate that kind of thing, but at least I’d be able to get dressed up.

“Yeah,” I assure him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

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