6. A Professional Distance
CHAPTER 6
A PROFESSIONAL DISTANCE
I sabella
“Welcome, Signor Ferrara. I’m pleased to see you again.” Papà ’s voice echoes across the high ceilings of the penthouse foyer, and I slide to the edge of the couch cushion, a nervous energy rushing my veins. The sweet scent of the calla lilies on the coffee table do nothing to still the building anxiety.
“Always a pleasure, Signor Valentino. And please, no need for the formalities, call me Raffaele.” That deep, rough tenor only quickens my pulse.
Relax, Bella. Raffaele is the one who needs to make a good impression, not you . I repeat the mantra over and over again, until the mad drumbeat battering my ribcage subsides. He’s the one who must prove his worth as a bodyguard, and I just have to survive long enough for him to do that.
The shooting yesterday sure as hell shook me up, but it hasn’t completely derailed me from the idea of starting to live my life again. It was a fluke… and it was handled. I smooth down the ruffles of the linen sundress, not used to the feel of actual clothes on my skin after living in pajamas for the past month.
The slap of heavy footfalls draws my attention back to the present, to the intimidating man stalking toward me. A black button-down shirt stretches across the broad expanse of his chest, neatly tucked into his dark slacks. For such a big guy, he walks with surprising grace, like a predator, fluid and focused. Every motion is deliberate and powerfully controlled, contradicting his size with the elegance of a panther on the prowl.
Raffaele dips his head when his eyes meet mine. “Good morning, signorina .”
“It’s Isabella, or Bella is fine too.”
“I prefer Signorina Valentino if it’s all the same to you. I find maintaining a professional distance helps to keep us both on task.”
I rise, slapping my hands on my hips. I can feel Papà ’s scrutinizing gaze observing our interaction. “So you expect me to call you Signor Ferrara?” Talk about a mouthful.
“I don’t expect anything from you. You are my principal, my duty. You can call me whatever you’re most comfortable with.”
“What about Raf?”
A barely perceptible tendon flutters across his scruffy jaw. “If that’s what you prefer, signorina .”
Papà pivots, turning that measured gaze on me. “As you know, Raffaele has spent the last week with Tony, learning the ins and outs of our security protocols. I have every confidence in his ability to protect you, principessa .”
I cringe at the silly childhood nickname, then heat rushes up my neck and diffuses across my cheeks when I catch the faint smirk spreading Raffaele’s perfect lips.
“Well, I will leave you two to get acquainted.” My father starts to back out of the great room toward the hallway that leads to his office. I’m not surprised he’s chosen to work from home today, just like my mom coincidentally canceled her yoga session with Aunt Rose. They want to give me the semblance of independence while still keeping me on a short leash. Vinny is the only one who abandoned me for the morning, deciding today would be the one he’d start his summer internship at King Industries.
“Traitor,” I mutter as Papà disappears down the hall.
“Excuse me?” Raf sears me with those star-flecked midnight orbs.
“Nothing.” I saunter to the kitchen, in a lame attempt at nonchalance, and my new dark shadow follows. When I find the espresso machine empty, a curse escapes through my clenched teeth. Or maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. “I need coffee.” And Nutella. But I forgo my favorite morning treat today because all this inactivity has left me pudgy around the belly and with my shredded new bodyguard looming over me, the guilt is creeping in.
His dark brows twist as he eyes the elaborate machine. “Can’t you make yourself one?”
“I thought maybe we could go out instead.”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a neatly folded piece of paper. “I’d prefer not to leave the penthouse until we’ve gone over the security protocols.”
“I’m very familiar with the procedures, Raf. I’ve been living them for the last twenty years.”
“Not like these, you haven’t. After spending the week with Tony, I took it upon myself to tweak the protocols of my predecessor.”
“Why?” I blurt, trying my hardest to keep my rising temper at bay.
Raf leans against the marble island, his mask of calm only more infuriating. “They were outdated and lacking, to be perfectly honest.” He spreads the sheet out on the countertop, and I briefly scan the headers in neat type.
Threat Assessment and Planning
Constant Surveillance
Secure Transportation
Personal Protection
Safe Environments
Privacy and Information Security
The list goes on and on, the words blurring in the building irritation. “You had no right to change the way Frankie did things.”
“On the contrary, I have every right.” He pushes off the counter and steps into my space. “It is my duty to keep you safe, and I will do that to the best of my ability. It was impossible under the previous terms.”
“You can’t be serious? Frankie was an incredible bodyguard. He kept me alive for over twenty years, and you come in here on your first day and try to change everything? So you happened to be at the right place at the right time last week? It doesn’t mean you’re more capable than he was. Frankie gave up his life for me—" My throat tightens, the heat of unshed tears burning my eyes. I blink quickly to keep them from rolling over. The last thing I need is to cry in front of this man. Then he’ll really think I’m nothing more than some spoiled little mafia princess.
The hard set of his jaw softens a touch, and he heaves out a breath. “I know how difficult it is to lose someone in this business. I am here to ensure that does not happen, for either of us.”
I knot my arms across my chest and do my best not to pout like a sullen teenager.
Raf points at the bulleted outline, running his finger down the itemized list. “We can go over the protocols as I’ve set them forth and if there are any you have issue with, we can adjust.”
Only five minutes with this man and I’m sure he has no idea what the word adjust means. I’m going to kill Serena for convincing me to pick the hot one.
“Fine,” I hiss out.
He pulls out one of the bar stools and motions for me to sit. Stubbornly, I remain standing and follow his finger tracing the text.
“What the hell is this? Train the mafia princess in basic self-defense and emergency response protocols .”
He grins, revealing a hidden dimple and despite my annoyance, my breath hitches a little at the sight. Why the hell did I pick the unfairly gorgeous bodyguard? This was such a bad idea. “What? I figured it would be beneficial for you to learn some basic combat skills.”
“I’m not talking about that part, Raf. I mean the mafia princess bit…”
“That is what you are, isn’t it, principessa ?” His smirk only grows wider, and I have to curl my fingers into a fist to keep from wiping that smug smile off his face. Little does he know, Papà insisted I learned the basics in self-defense years ago.
“Don’t call me that,” I snarl. “I thought you were the one who insisted on keeping things professional.”
The smile vanishes, replaced by the mask of the cold enforcer, the unfeeling guard. Again, only a short time with this man, and I’ve already begun to recognize his many faces. I guess it comes in handy in his line of work. “You’re right, my apologies, signorina .” He clears his throat and ticks his chin at the paper stretched across the counter again. “Anything else you’d like to go over?”
Stay close to the mafia princess at all times, especially in public or unfamiliar settings.
I read over the sentence again and again, each time only escalating my pulse. At all times … According to Papà , Raffaele is to remain with me from the time I wake until he tucks me in at bedtime. Despite the impressive eye candy, I’m not sure I’ll survive a day with this man let alone all my waking hours.
“Where do you live?” I blurt.
His steady gaze falters, flickering to the floor for an instant before returning to meet my own. “I’m looking for something more permanent as we speak.”
Well, that is a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one. “My cousin, Alessia, is a realtor, maybe she can help.” And it would give us an excuse to get out of this suffocating penthouse.
“Thanks, but I’ll find something on my own.”
I barely restrain the eyeroll. “Are you too much of a tough guy to accept help?”
“No, signorina . It’s simply not proper to spend working hours searching for my housing.”
“Then when would you find a place? Papà said you’ll be with me all day. You can’t live in a motel forever.”
His dark eyes flash, and I clench my teeth to keep from grinning. Of course, I know where he’s staying. Papà had the full background check done well before his first interview, and I’ve spent the last week learning everything I could about my new guard. Raffaele Ferrara, thirty years old, born in Rome, Italy, grew up in the Bronx before returning to his home country at sixteen where he served in the Italian Carabinieri’s version of special forces. From there, the details are hazy which is typical for that line of work. Then he re-emerges in the private security scene and suddenly reappears a few months ago in Manhattan.
“I’ll be sure to let you know when I get tired of it.” Raf’s voice draws me from perusing the mental file I’ve created.
“Suit yourself.” I shrug. “Can we go get that coffee now?”