My Fiancé’s Bodyguard by Ivy Wild
“You seem a little off today,”my current partner said to me as I knocked roughly on the weathered red door to the club.
“Open the fucking door, Gi. I know you’re fucking in there,” I shouted before turning to look at the brat I was being forced to work with today. He was a scrawny ginger whose name, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember. No, that wasn’t right. I just didn’t care. I was supposed to be showing him the ropes, but he seemed more interested in my mental state, and it was pissing me right the fuck off.
“Come again?” I said with a dangerous glint in my eyes.
“I said, you seem a little off today,” he repeated. It was amazing this kid was still alive given how stupid he was.
“You got balls saying somethin’ like that to me, kid,” I responded, banging on the door one more time. I unholstered my gun and shot a bullet at the lock.
“If you wanna survive working with the Maldonado’s, you better get any expectation of caring out your head now, understand?” I said in a gruff voice as I shouldered the door open.
“Yeah, whatever,” the brat said, hunching his shoulders.
This is why I didn’t fucking try with people anymore. “Let’s just get this job over with,” I said. “Go ahead and take point.
I watched the kid hold his gun out in front of him with locked elbows and sighed. Whoever the fuck was teaching these kids how to shoot was doing a piss poor job. But, that wasn’t my fucking problem. If he wanted to get his hands shot off while we were clearing rooms, that was on him.
There was no loyalty in this game. Sure, we were partners on this job, but that didn’t mean we were gonna watch each other’s backs. In fact, if I could use this kid’s back as a shield, I’d do it, no remorse. At least that’s what I liked to tell myself.
Giuliano Giuseppe, notorious nightclub owner in the Seaport area of Boston came out of one of the side rooms with his hands held up. By the time the brat had his gun on him, even the person with the least skill in my old platoon could have unloaded an entire clip into him. He was such a moron.
“Hey, Max. Good to see you. Is it the first of the month already?” Giuliano asked with a smirk on his features. His dark hair was slicked back and his olive complexion made him look sickly in the low lights.
“It’s the fifteenth, and we do this every fucking month, Gi,” I said reholstering my gun. I elbowed the kid in the ribs, and he finally did the same. “You got the money or not?”
“What if I said I needed an extra week?”
I sighed. “Then I’d say I’ll need one of your teeth to take back to the boss. You can have it back when you make your payment. Sound fair?”
Giuliano’s eyes widened, and he held up his hands again. “Nevermind. I got the money. Your threats keep getting worse, Max,” he said, turning around to return to his office.
I followed him and hung out at the threshold. “Yeah, well you give me a lot of time to think of new ones, given how often you’re late.”
The big man pulled an envelope of cash out of the desk and handed it to me. I thumbed through it to make sure he wasn’t trying to slip any ones in and nodded my head before tucking it into my vest.
“Why you always wear that thing?” he asked, referring to the tactical vest I had on.
“Cause I gotta deal with shits like you. Come on, kid. Let’s go,” I said, gesturing towards the door. “See you in two weeks, Gi. Don’t be late this time,” I called behind me as we made our way out the newly busted door.
A few hourslater and I was slamming the door behind me in my apartment just outside of town. I kicked my boots off, opened the fridge, and grabbed a beer before popping the cap and taking a long drink.
The kid’s words were getting to me. Mainly because I knew they were true.
I’d been off my game. Ever since I’d come back from the Dimes’ estate a week ago.
“Fucking princess getting under my skin,” I muttered under my breath. The blonde had been plaguing my thoughts for the last several days, and it was irritating, to say the least.
Finishing the rest of my beer, I moved to the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. Turning on the shower, I discarded my clothing before stepping into the spray. I let the hot water wash away the day’s grime before leaning against the tile and sighing. As soon as I closed my eyes, I could see the girl, lying on the floor, her ridiculous dress spread around her, talking to me as if I was her fucking friend before jumping up and running off.
Her facial features were soft with gently sloping cheekbones and lips that looked like they’d never been kissed. She had bright blonde hair and creamy skin that I knew would feel amazing under my fingers. Her figure pinched temptingly at the waist, and I remembered how good her curves had felt against my hard edges, even momentarily.
What bothered me more than my physical attraction to someone so fucking pampered was why I even talked to her in the first place. I hadn’t had a real conversation with someone in years. I’d let myself get close to people in the past. I’d learned the hard way that it wasn’t worth it. Besides, I had a fucking reason for being where I was and didn’t need wide blue eyes messing up years of work.
I sighed and turned off the water before stepping onto the mat and drying my scarred and chiseled frame. Moving to my bedroom, I climbed into bed, exhausted from the day, trying to keep visions of bright pink skirts out of my head.
“Cancel your afternoon jobs,”Johnny said to me. “We’re heading out for a meeting.”
I nodded my understanding. Johnny never told me ahead of time when I might be needed for bodyguard service. I hated it, but I got it. When you were a guy like Johnny, every person who knew your future movements was another man who could sell you out.
Johnny ran most of his business from the back office of an Italian Bakery started by his family decades ago in the North End. “Maldonado's” made the best cannolis in town and it also provided an easy front for laundering money. Who’s to say they sold one hundred cookies or one thousand cookies in any given month? In the end, even crime bosses had to pay taxes on their dirty money.
Johnny’s inner circle hung out at the shop’s attached restaurant most days, and since a year ago that included me. I pulled the keys out of my pocket and stood. “Where to, Boss?” I gruffed as we made our way to the Escalade parked out front.
“Dimes Estate,” Johnny replied.
I nodded my head as I started up the car. “This gonna be a regular thing, then?” I asked as I pulled onto one of the narrow streets that made up the North End.
“Potentially,” Johnny responded, ever the one to be untrusting.
I got the message that he didn’t want to elaborate and merely nodded my head without saying more. As we drove out of the city, the buildings thinned as the trees got thicker. We drove in silence, giving my thoughts plenty of time to get on my nerves.
The forest began to thin as the car crested a hill, the Dimes Estate sprawling its hundreds of acres before us. The Dimes were an interesting family. Old as shit as far as Boston went. I think I heard that they operated some sort of flour company back in the late 1700s and grew from there. They were into everything now, and Henry Dimes was at the head of it. His wife had passed away unexpectedly about a decade ago, leaving him the single father of two girls. Given what I experienced of one of them, I’m assuming he wasn’t a very good father. But then again, I wasn’t winning any awards as a role model.
A knock rousedme from the book I was reading. I’d woken up early this morning but had opted to stay in bed and read, given that there was nothing else waiting for me in the fancy prison I called home.
“Mistress,” one of the maids said with a timid voice, stepping into my room.
“Hm?” was all I could muster in terms of a response.
“I’ve been asked by your father to tell you that you should make sure you are presentable but that you are not to leave your room while he receives company,” the woman said with a small voice as if she knew what my reaction would be. The maid shifted in her stance as she kept her eyes fixed to the floor.
I managed to make sense of her words after a few seconds and leapt off the bed in a huff. “This is ridiculous!” I bounded for the door of my bedroom, and the woman squeaked as I grabbed the handle.
“Mistress! Your clothes!” she managed to say.
I looked down at the state of my dress and realized that I was still wearing a short nightgown. I turned, looking at the crumpled evening gown on my floor, and groaned before stomping my way into my closet.
It was more of a small apartment than a closet really and I hated it. The entire thing was full of the fanciest and most uncomfortable evening gowns, heels, and accessories, each thing more impractical than the next. I hurried to the corner of one of the shelves and pulled back a line of dresses. The maid watched with wide eyes from the entrance to the closet as I grabbed a normal outfit off the rack.
“I’m tired of dressing to the nines for my own flipping bathroom,” I huffed, throwing on the normal-looking fit and flare dress and pairing it with a pair of low-profile white sneakers. “There,” I said, patting the skirt down.
The little maid’s eyes opened wide. “Mistress, please. Your father said that was not appropriate.” She gulped and twisted her mousy brown hair around her finger nervously. I could sense her anxiety.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Trust me, okay?”
The woman looked at me with uncertainty but nodded her head. Feeling more like myself, I headed towards my bedroom door, intent on giving my father a piece of my mind. The rubber soles of my sneakers rubbed against the marble floors, making little squeaks with every step I took and I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of finally saying my piece. I’d just turned twenty and for the last two years, my father had been desperately trying to marry me off. If he felt like I was old enough for marriage, then I was certainly old enough to choose my own damn clothing.
“Father!” I exclaimed, almost running into him as he stepped outside the library, no doubt heading to his study a few doors down the hallway.
“Madelyn! What on earth are you doing out of your room?” He bristled, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “I’ll have to speak to that maid about following orders. What is her name?” he pondered, attempting to push me aside in the search for his next target.
“Father! This has nothing to do with her. I need you to listen to me!” I said desperately, the reality of confronting my father not living up to my expectations.
He fixed his harsh gaze back on me. “I don’t have time to deal with you now. We have guests arriving and—” he paused, finally taking in my appearance. His lip curled. “And you are certainly not dressed to be seen by anyone.”
“I’m not just going to be a prisoner in my own home anymore,” I exclaimed, trying to recapture control over the conversation that was slipping away faster than Martha Stewart’s reality TV show.
My father ignored me, calling for the butler. “Claude!” He tapped his foot impatiently when nothing but silence answered him back.
“Father!” I tried once more.
“Enough, Madelyn,” he said harshly, his voice echoing through the hallway. The sound of footsteps could be heard and both of us turned.
Claude emerged into the foyer followed by two guests. My gaze immediately fell on Max, and I tried to hide my blush as the man’s gray eyes met mine. My father’s demeanor changed instantly as he rushed to great the Maldonado boss. “Johnny!” he said, clasping the man’s hand tightly.
“So good to see you, Henry,” Johnny responded before turning his attention to me. “I don’t believe we’ve met?” he said with a question, clearly looking for my father to make an introduction.
My father cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable at the entire situation. “Ah, yes. My mistake. This is my daughter, Madelyn,” he said.
“I thought your daughter’s name was Scarlett,” Johnny said, his bushy eyebrows furrowing slightly. “And she’s married to—ah—what’s his name over at the District Attorney’s office?”
“Scarlett is the younger sister. And yes, she is married to Mark,” my father responded simply. “This is my oldest daughter.”
I tried not to grimace as the man approached me and took my hand, laying a kiss on it. From this close, waves of cologne were rolling off him, and expensive or not, too much of a good thing could make you puke.
“There’s no way someone as beautiful as this could be related to you, Henry,” he said with a teasing tone, continuing to stare at me.
I smiled uncomfortably, instantly regretting my decision to leave my room this morning. But before I could respond, my father cleared his throat. “She gets her looks from her mother, for sure. Shall we?” he said, gesturing to his study.
“And leave a woman such as this unaccompanied?”
I internally grimaced. Johnny Maldonado was easily twice my age and twice my size. I didn’t care what age gap fantasy some girls had, he was not starring in it.
“I was planning a walk through the gardens,” I said quickly. “Not to worry,” I said, attempting to pull my hand out of the man’s grasp.
“That simply won’t do. Holt,” Johnny barked, and Max took a few steps forward. “Perhaps you could accompany Ms. Dimes?”
“Whatever,” Max said with a bored look.
“Fabulous,” Johnny exclaimed, finally releasing my hand. “Henry and I will talk business in the meantime.”
My father looked uncomfortable, but we both knew there was no way out of this mess now. As Johnny passed Max, I heard him whisper, “I want you to learn as much as you can about her.”
I saw Max nod quickly and with that, the two older men closed themselves behind large doors, leaving us behind.
