Ruthless Guardian (Ruthless Heirs #1)

1. Valentino Mafia Princess

I sabella

“Get down!”

I feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere—a tension that tightens the air an instant before gunshots explode across the swanky bar. Waves of gunfire follow instantly, shattering the rhythm of the night as screams erupt around me. I nearly choke on my martini as a big hand clamps over my head and shoves me beneath the high-top table.

“Stay down, Isabella, and don’t move until I come back for you!” my bodyguard, Frankie, growls in my ear. He blankets me with his massive form for a long minute before he releases the gun at his hip and leaps back up to return fire. “Stay hidden, do you hear me?”

I nod, instinctively.

Bullets pepper the air, tiny missiles of death echoing over the pounding bass. The clink of glasses and bursts of laughter pervading the posh Manhattan bar are gone, replaced by blood-curdling shrieks.

My heart kicks at my ribcage, and I’m filled with the most overwhelming urge to scream myself. Why can’t I just have one normal night? One night to celebrate my graduation from NYU with my friends.

“Shit, Bella! Are you okay?” Serena drops down to the ground beside me, her cocktail still clenched in her fist. Wisps of blonde hair fall across her bright blue eyes as she regards me. Guards now surround the table we’re hidden beneath but still, her hand shoots out attempting to cover my head. I swat her away.

“Don’t you dare, Serena. I’m not yours to protect. My life is no more valuable than yours.”

“I don’t know about that, cuz. I’m pretty sure your father would say otherwise.”

“And I’m pretty sure your father would kill my father if you died trying to protect me.”

She smirks, flashing me ruby-stained lips. “Touché. Let’s just agree we’re both incredibly precious then.”

“Come on, huddle closer.” I reach for my cousin, who also happens to be my best friend, and tug her beside me. Down on all fours in my sleek black mini-dress, I make a barrier of the surrounding chairs, and Serena pulls a silver handgun from her sparkly clutch. It’s just another Friday for the Valentino mafia princesses.

Serena rises to her knees, her head nearly bumping the underside of the table thanks to that long torso of hers. She points the barrel through the slats in the chair and aims at the half a dozen men blocking the door.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” I hiss.

“Why not? I can help and take a few of the guys out.”

I quickly shake my head and strands of dark hair whip across my face. “What if you get one of our guys in the crossfire?”

Serena sticks out her bottom lip, pouting. “Fine…”

While Serena chooses to focus her talents at the shooting range, I prefer to work out my stress and occasional rage at the gym with hand-to-hand combat. Give me the feel of flesh and bone cracking against each other over a gun any day. Krav Maga is my current obsession, but I’ve taken classes in nearly all the martial arts since the day I could walk. Papà had insisted.

When your father is Luca Valentino, the head of the ruthless Kings, the most notorious crime syndicate in all of Manhattan, there’s no such thing as being too prepared or a quiet girls’ night out. It doesn’t help that we chose The Velvet Vault, a bar owned by our cousin whose father, Marco Rossi, is the boss of a rival organization, the Geminis. The Valentinos and Rossi’s may have found peace, but that doesn’t mean every other criminal association in New York City doesn’t want our parents dead.

And us, by association.

From beneath the table, I can just make out Frankie’s black loafers, partially concealed by his dark slacks. Blood already splatters the leather. I blink quickly, chasing away the deep crimson staining my vision. Beside my guard stands a slew of Kings, our fathers’ henchmen and our typical entourage. The barrage of missiles echo across the mostly empty bar, most of the patrons having raced out of here the moment the battle began.

I wonder if that gorgeous guy I met earlier at the bar got out alive. Dio , I hope so. The thought of the light in those piercing, velvety eyes going dim is just too terrible to consider.

“Bella!” A familiar voice surges through the chaos of ricocheting bullets. “Bells, where are you?”

“Down here,” I whisper-hiss, waving my hand from under the tabletop.

Matteo crawls toward us, a gun clenched in each fist. My cousin shoots a round over his head before holstering his weapons and turning his attention to us. Apparently, he has no qualms about accidentally taking out my dad’s men. Then again, given the tumultuous nature of our fathers’ relationship, I’m not that surprised. His dark eyes raze over me, searching for blood. I know the look, I’ve seen it in Papà ’s gaze more than I care to remember.

“What the hell’s going on, Matty?” Serena barks.

“Fucking Alessandro. He messed with the Russians last week so I’m guessing this is payback.”

This lovely establishment is owned by our other cousin, Alessandro Rossi. Which is the only reason I’m occasionally allowed to frequent the place. Normally, no one is stupid enough to mess with the Geminis.

I guess all bets are off when the Russians are involved.

“Where is he?” I ask. “And where’s Alessia?” Not that I’m a big fan of the female half of the twins, but she is my cousin—half-cousin—but still. From the Rossi side, Matteo is the best by far.

Matty shrugs. “Last time I saw Ale, he was texting Uncle Marco. And I have no idea where Alessia went.”

Serena snorts on a laugh. “Calling Daddy to clean up his mess? Figures the cocky bastard would be a chickenshit when things got real.”

“I know he can be an asshole, but he’s blood, Sere.” Matteo wraps an arm around me, tucking me into his side. Everyone in the family coddles me, Luca Valentino’s principessa . Princess and heir to the Kings’ empire.

“Speaking of blood,” I add before peeking between Frankie’s legs. My guard has been stationed in front of the table spraying the air with a continuous volley of bullets. “It’s a good thing you didn’t bring any of your siblings out tonight. Your mom would’ve killed you if anyone got roped into this mess.”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell any of them I was coming here for our early graduation celebration.” He presses a finger to his lips. Matteo has four younger siblings, the biggest family in the Valentino-Rossi crew ranging from Matty’s twenty-four to Rex’s twelve. I love the guy and all his brothers and sisters, despite who his father is.

“All clear!” Frankie’s gruff voice puts an end to our casual conversation. It’s a testament to the life we live, that the three of us can chat so nonchalantly while a full-on shootout resounds in the background.

After all these years, I’ve grown accustomed to the chaos. That, and I know Frankie has my back. He’s been my personal bodyguard since the first day I left the penthouse without my parents back in grade school.

“Finally,” Serena mutters, crawling out from under the table and pulling me along with her. “I better not have ruined my new Dolce & Gabbana dress, or I’m sending Alessandro the bill.” She straightens to her full height, towering over me, even with my heels. With long, blonde hair and those ocean blue eyes, she looks every bit like her mom, my feisty Aunt Rose.

Matteo stands, leaning against the chair and runs a hand through his disheveled dark locks. “Don’t worry, we’re good for it.”

“Where is Ale anyway?” I rise to my tiptoes to see over Frankie’s broad shoulders. The rest of the Kings’ men and the bar’s security team are circling the bar, assessing the damage and righting fallen tables and chairs. At least there aren’t any bodies. From our side anyway. I can’t say the same about the Russians. I squeeze my eyes closed, avoiding their bloodied, mangled forms. They may be our enemies, but I’ve always lacked the bloodlust that’s supposed to run through my veins.

“Over there.” My guard ticks his head toward the modern glass bar that runs the length of the wall behind us. Or at least what used to be the bar. Shards of glass glisten across the black marble floor shimmering beneath the soft glow of lights.

Alessandro and Alessia pop up from behind it, and if it weren’t for the bloody gash along Alessia’s forehead and the crimson droplets dribbling down Ale’s upper lip, I might have laughed. I’ve never seen my perfect cousin, Alessia, in such a state. Wild, wet curls tumble over her shoulders, her fuchsia dress splattered with an assortment of liquors from the mirrored shelves above. Ale is in no better condition, soaked from head to toe in his beloved alcohol. Above them, the rows of top shelf liquor bottles trickle pathetically, riddled in bullet holes.

“Fucking Russians,” Alessandro growls as he throttles his gun and walks around the bar, glass crunching under his boots.

“This is all your fault,” Alessia whines at her twin brother, wringing alcohol from her hair. “Pa is going to kill you for getting The Velvet Vault shot up like this. You know he hates when Gemini Corp gets drawn into the press alongside mob shit.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he mutters.

Serena releases a sharp cackle, her head falling back dramatically. “I’m sure you were the innocent one in all of this.”

“Shut up, Serena. If this place closes down, where are you going to go trolling for your fuck buddies?”

“Oh, you wound me so. At least I can get some…”

“Alessandro, stop,” I hiss. “Both of you, relax. Everyone’s just on edge because of the shooting.”

“And it’s time for us to go, Isabella.” Frankie moves to my side, squeezing my shoulder. “ Signor Valentino is not pleased. And no one wants to see your father pissed.”

I glance up at those dark eyes, the faint crinkle on the edges of the rueful smile.

Great. If The Velvet Vault closes, where the hell will I go for these brief moments of freedom? Unlike Serena who actually has her own apartment, it’s not like I can bring a guy back to the penthouse I share with my brother and overbearing parents. Papà would strangle the guy before he set foot into the foyer. So much for my plan of finally meeting someone.

“Fine,” I grumble.

Serena pulls me into a hug, then holds me out to arm’s length and straightens the strap of my dress. “I’m sorry this night was a complete disaster. I never should have dragged you here. Tell Uncle Luca it was a freak incident that will never happen again.”

“If he ever lets me leave the penthouse again.”

“Isabella, it’s time.” Frankie motions to the entrance across the dancefloor, the thick velvet curtains hanging askew, and the matching velvet rope sprawled across the floor.

Matteo presses a kiss to my cheek, and Alessandro and Alessia offer half-hearted waves as my guard escorts me toward the door.

“He’s never going to let me out again,” I groan.

Frankie cocks his head and offers a reassuring smile. “Never is a long time, piccola .” Little one. He’s called me that for as long as I can remember, and now despite having just turned twenty-two and about to embark onto a long, difficult journey at medical school, when I hear the nickname, I’m that insecure little kid again hiding behind Papà ’s looming shadow. Frankie tousles my hair and moves into step beside me as we cross the sticky dancefloor. I refuse to look down, preferring to ignore whatever it is I’m walking through. “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.”

“Thanks, Frankie. Of all the bodyguards to be stuck with, you’re the best.”

He chuckles, the warm sound vibrating his barrel chest. “I’m the only one you’ve ever had, piccola , so I sure as hell better be.”

I step onto the red carpet, the soles of my Jimmy Choo’s sinking into the plush material, and a shadow streaks across my peripheral vision. The velvet curtain glides back, and I’m greeted by the barrel of a gun.

A gasp slips through my clenched lips as time slows. Everything blurs but that hand on the sleek weapon, that finger on the trigger. A shot fires, and the scream dies in my throat.