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“You made her father a promise,” he recalled, “You're the one who promised to keep her safe.”
“For money!” I argued sharply.
He stood up crossing his arms over his chest. “Bullshit Val!” he barked. “You took one look at her and jumped at the opportunity to be anywhere near her that you could.”
Without saying a word, I held out my hand. Reading my mind, he placed a cigarette and lighter in it. We had been friends for a long time. He could practically read my thoughts at all times. I lit it then tossed the lighter back to him. He caught it then slid it into his pocket.
“For months and months, we have followed one woman,” he continued. “One woman you refuse to get to know because you're scared.”
“I'm not scared of him,” I snapped before taking a long drag of my cigarette.
“Who said anything about him?” he smirked. “Her.”
I strode to the window again leaning on the side of the frame, watching her walk through the rows of flowers, sniffing them as I continued to smoke. She was captivating. It was hard to admit to anyone how badly I wanted Isabelle, but inside my head, I knew how much I craved for her to be mine.
“None of us are stupid, Valentino,” he laughed. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. Somewhere in the time we were all watching her, you started to like her.”
I silently listened, smoking my cigarette.
“You know everything about her,” he stated the obvious. “It became less of a job and more of an attraction,” he concluded with a snicker, “or, maybe and addiction.”
I sighed, knowing he was right I was not about to deny it to my best friend. He knew me better than anyone on this earth and was probably the only one. He was also the only one that I allowed to speak to me the way he did. If anyone else had spoken to me like that, they would have been laying in a pool of blood beneath my feet.
“She's seen me,” I grumbled. “At the bar, then when she returned from the park after a jog, she saw me,” I sighed, “the real me.”
“What do you mean?” he exhaled.
Lifting my hand to my chin, I studied her every move outside once again. “She's heard this accent.” I was speaking in my native Italian accent as I did when no guests were in the home.
“Go talk to her,” he suggested, leaving me with those words as he exited, closing the doors on his way out.
“Fucking shit,” I mumbled to myself, running my fingers through my hair in frustration.
I promised I would not allow her to know who I was. She was safer this way anyway, but I decided to show her who I was without her seeing me. It would be tricky to pull off, but I was willing to try. I needed some assistance from some of my staff, so I lifted my watch to my mouth.
Joseph, please bring Miss Ayala to my office in thirty minutes, I ordered.
I had an idea. Making a few phone calls before stepping into my closet, I made several arrangements, hoping they would all follow through. I grabbed a shirt off a hanger, sliding it over my head as I walked out of my room. Rehearsing my speech in my mind, I made my way downstairs.
I sat in a Bergère chair in the corner of my office waiting for Isabelle to join me. Tugging on my earlobe, I pondered how this would ever work, but I knew it had to be done. I lost myself in different scenarios when she was escorted in.
She slowly meandered into the room, searching for any sign of movement. I chuckled to myself watching her try to locate me. Once the doors were closed and we were alone, I cleared my throat, indicating my whereabouts. She snapped her head toward me, mildly blushing with pursed lips.
“Sit,” I gestured to the chair across from me.
She instantly took a seat, crossing her ankles as she placed her hands in her lap. “Yes Sir?” she asked.
I paused, tucking my bottom lip between my teeth at the sound of her calling me Sir. It never affected me before, but the tone in her voice mixed with her accent, almost sent me over the edge. I slowly exhaled, trying to settle myself before I continued, proposing a deal I hoped did not backfire.
“I want to make a deal with you,” I announced.
“More contracts?” she snorted then instantaneously clasped her hands over her mouth in mortification.
“No more contracts,” I snickered, “but this will require us to learn to trust each other.”
She folded her arms across her midsection, smiling, “I'm listening.”
“I will set you free,” I murmured, “however, there will be rules.”
