5. My Damnation
CHAPTER 5
MY DAMNATION
R affaele
Fuck . I stare up at the soaring high rise across the street that houses the headquarters of King Industries, cursing first in my head then out loud. I keep the obscenities I grumble in Italian to avoid the pious old ladies climbing up the steps of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I’ve been sitting here like a coglione , a total asshole, all morning waiting for a call back after that interview with Isabella Valentino yesterday. Which makes no sense at all. I could have just as easily waited in the crappy motel in Queens. But then if she’d called, it would’ve taken me an hour to get here. And for some reason, that seemed too long.
Isabella Valentino .
The woman I’d seen at The Velvet Vault over a month ago. The woman who had left such an impression, I’d scoured the web until I found out who she was, which was what had compelled me to interview for this position to begin with.
My eyes slam shut in an effort to block her image from forcing its way into my mind, but since yesterday, she’s been front and center once again. Why the hell had my cock leapt up like the damned Statue of Liberty at the sight of her?
I tear into the hot dog clenched in my fist, more ravenous beast than man. My temper boils at my own stupidity. I’d promised myself long ago I would never get involved with a client. I had made the mistake early on in my career, and it had cost me everything. A swirl of pain threatens its way up, but I take another bite of the lukewarm hot dog and swallow it down along with the incessant ache.
Now I have a strict policy. If I find the principal even remotely attractive, I walk away. It’s as simple as that. Then why can’t I seem to force myself off this step? I should have told her I wasn’t interested right there on the spot. Instead, I was on autopilot spouting out the usual interview jargon.
Sure, Isabella Valentino is beautiful with those soulful sky-blue eyes that seem to pierce right into your darkest depths, but beauty isn’t an unusual commodity to come across among the millions of women in Manhattan. But the reaction I’d had to her was primal. Despite my cool facade, I’d been overcome by the most insane urge to pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and find a cave to drag her into. And fuck her senseless.
I’ve lost my damned mind. Maybe all that time in the Middle East really has messed with my head. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the VA docs mentioned it. I run my hand through my wild, dark hair and heave out a sigh. Perhaps joining the Army after years with the special forces unit of the Italian Carabinieri wasn’t the smartest move ever.
The nightmares still linger, even now, years later. And I never want to go back. Private security is the only way forward, and this job babysitting the Valentino heir would have been perfect. If I proved myself guarding the great Luca Valentino’s daughter, it would be no time before I’d get into the capo ’s good graces.
But damn, that woman… That smart little mouth and those feisty comments. She was testing me already. Normally, I’d have no problem keeping my dick in my pants but there is just something about her.
A gleaming white Escalade stops at the light, the sun catching against the mirror and nearly blinding me. I glance up as it makes a U-turn, and the very blinged out vanity plate catches my eye. Principessa . Princess in Italian. Definitely not subtle. The corners of my lips twitch as I follow the SUV, first with my gaze and then with my feet, as it pulls up in front of the King’s tower.
I dart across the street just as the crosswalk countdown begins. I sprint the last few feet and reach the sidewalk before a black BMW streaks around the corner and nearly runs me down. Motherfucker . Spinning at the asshole, I prepare to unleash a storm of my best Italian profanities when the familiar glint of the barrel of a gun peeks from a window.
“Get down!” I shout just as a guard slips out of the front seat of the parked Escalade and jerks the back door open.
Isabella slides out of the car, and my heart kicks at my ribs. “Gun!” I yell again, and this time, one of the guards reacts. “Black BMW!” I just grit the words out before shots explode over the cacophony, and the crowded streets of downtown Manhattan explode into chaos.
Screams ricochet across Park Avenue, the shrill cries muffling the rat-a-tat of bullets served by the Kings’ security detail. Two men in suits huddle behind the oversized SUV, shooting over the roof. I jerk my gun out of its holster beneath my jacket and aim at the sleek black sports car. Stilling my racing pulse, I search for the calm, the inner silence that took years to hone despite the madness, the sprinting forms and steady wails. The BMW races down the street, weaving through traffic, followed by the steady spray of projectiles. With the pile up of cars, I can’t get a clean shot of the tire which would be my target of choice. Knowing Luca Valentino, he’ll likely want to question the fucker who tried to kill his daughter, or at least I sure as hell would. So instead, I aim at the passenger window, peppering the tinted glass with holes.
The car jerks to the right, then skids across the median before slamming into a garbage truck. The two Kings’ men swarm the BMW, and a third man appears from inside the vehicle, planting himself in front of the door. Seconds later and a whole troop of guards spill out from the front doors of the building.
I’m overcome with the most overwhelming urge to stalk over there myself and shoot the asshole in the face, but I search for that calm once again. Not your job yet, coglione .
As the security team deals with the threat, I holster my weapon and march toward the Escalade. Before I get within two yards of the car, two massive guys block my forward movement. “I don’t think so, amico .” Friend, ha, that’s laughable. The big guy lays hands on me, and I twist out of his hold so quickly, I nearly snap his wrist. I only restrain myself because of whom sits behind those tinted windows.
“Release him.” A deep voice echoes from behind the door before the window glides open. None other than Luca Valentino stares up at me, dark eyes narrowed. And just beside him, his daughter. I fully expect to see fear in those brilliant baby blues, but an icy veil masks the expressive irises I observed only yesterday.
“You sure, capo ?”
“Yes, Enzo, Signor Ferrara just single-handedly took out the threat while the three of you spun your wheels like deficienti . And by the looks of it, I should be requesting for him to release you. One twist and he’ll have that arm in a cast for six weeks.”
A smirk tugs at my lips as the big man’s cheeks turn the rosy pink of a schoolgirl. I could likely take on Luca’s entire security team. With my eyes closed.
Isabella peeks from around her father’s broad shoulders and our eyes meet, then hold for a fiery instant. Her lips part, and I wonder if she remembers me or if she’s as affected by me as I am by her. From the extensive research I conducted prior to the interview, I never found a single mention of a man in the beautiful heiress’ life. Pushing the inappropriate thoughts to the furthest corners of my mind, I focus on the man in front of me, the one who will determine whether or not I get this job.
The job I should not take.
But now I’m invested. Because there is nothing that gets my blood boiling like taking out a scumbag who has his eyes on my principal.
Luca Valentino slides out of the car, straightens his tie and motions to the entrance of the impressive building. “Please, come with me, signore .”
Signor Valentino turns before we reach the elevator bank and leads us through a metal door adjacent to the rear entrance. Isabella whispers something to her father, and I slow my footsteps, allowing them a modicum of privacy. The elder Valentino cocks his head over his shoulder, and his lips twist into a snarl.
“I promise we will find out, principessa ,” he murmurs as he holds the door open.
Princess … a little tongue and cheek if you ask me.
“Please have a seat.” Luca motions at the small, nondescript room with two folding chairs encircling a plastic table.
I fold into the hard chair, and it releases a groan of protest beneath my weight.
Luca doesn’t sit, instead he looms over me, his hand on the butt of his gun which peaks out from beneath the waistband of his dark slacks. “That was quite a coincidence, you turning up at my building today at just the right moment.”
Ah, now I see what’s happening. “It was certainly lucky.” I pause and twist my head over my shoulder to face Isabella. “For you.”
“Do you mind me asking why you were here?”
I tick my head at the soaring turrets of the cathedral across the street. “Morning mass.”
Luca chuckles. “I never pinned you as a religious man.”
“It’s not something I typically include in my resume.”
“Fair enough.” The elder Valentino glances at his daughter. “I am not a man who believes in luck, Signor Ferrara. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am today and luck had nothing to do with it. But it just so happens that my daughter and I were on our way into the office to have my assistant draft up the documents for your offer letter.”
A twist of unexpected emotions whip across my insides.
“And after today’s performance,” he continues, “I’m convinced my daughter has made the right choice for a bodyguard.” He pauses and fixes piercing irises to mine. “Assuming I determine you had nothing to do with this incident today.”
“I assure you I did not. My clients’ safety is of the utmost importance, and I would never orchestrate a stunt of that caliber merely to secure a job. I have a list of potential candidates awaiting an opening in my schedule.”
Luca nods, lips pressed into a hard line. I’ve also done considerable research on the leader of the King’s, and the man is no fool. He only wants the best for his daughter, and not to be cocky, but that’s me.
“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to keep all those other clients waiting.” Isabella’s reply comes as a shock. She moves from behind her father and lifts that mesmerizing gaze so that I’m trapped in the endless blue. “Why would you choose me?”
The question lingers in the air, hanging like a charged silence between us. I meet her gaze, the intensity in her eyes both challenging and sincere. The answer comes easily, my voice steady despite the turmoil that her presence stirs within me.
"Because, Signorina Isabella, your safety isn't just another job to me," I start, carefully choosing each word. "I've worked with many, but your situation requires not only skill and dedication but a level of personal commitment that I'm prepared to give. You're not just another client on a list—you're a responsibility I'm willing to take on, fully aware of the stakes involved."
Isabella's expression softens slightly, the iciness melting into something resembling curiosity. Her father, Luca, watches the exchange, his scrutiny unwavering, as if trying to decipher the sincerity of my words.
"As you can imagine, I’ve interviewed quite a few capable men for the position," Isabella continues. "What makes you better?"
“I simply am better.” I flash her a cocky grin, the one I’ve mastered over the years. It typically distracts women enough so that I can get my way, but Isabella’s intense scrutiny doesn’t falter.
It is a fair question, so I pause, ensuring that my response expresses my conviction because despite knowing this is a mistake, I want this job. "It's not just about protecting you—it's about understanding you. Knowing when to step back and when to step in. I don't see you as a task to be managed but as a person. And that will always make the difference in how I protect you. I'm not here to just guard a principal; I'm here to ensure that you live your life as freely and safely as possible."
Her look is penetrating, as if she's sifting through my words for any trace of a lie. Luca's stance relaxes, a subtle nod indicating his approval of my answer.
"Very well," Luca finally says, breaking the tension. "We'll proceed with the paperwork. But let me be clear, Signor Ferrara, my daughter's safety is paramount. Any failure on your part will not be taken lightly."
"Understood, Signor Valentino.”
As Isabella steps back, the hint of a smile touches her lips, and fucking hell my cock hardens at that one rare glimpse. And suddenly, all I want is a chance to prove my worth—to protect and understand her. So instead of walking away as I’d vowed to do, I find myself reaching for Isabella’s hand sealing the deal that will likely lead to my damnation.
The brief touch is electric, her skin warm and soft against my rough palm. Her eyes lift to mine and again, I’m drowning in the sea of endless blue.
What have I done?