The Bodyguard's Betrayal

Chapter Nine

Evangeline

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Last night was the best sleep I've had in weeks.

A disturbing thought, considering Gabe was fast asleep down the hall and my house was almost broken into, but it's true. Knowing I wasn't alone, that someone like Gabe was nearby to protect me, made me feel safe for a change. And that's what scares me the most.

Fortunately, Gabe was gone by the time I woke up, saving me from any awkward encounters as I got ready this morning. He'd sent a brief message to say he'd be back for his shift, but that was the last I heard from him. Now, I'm in the kitchen, poking at my fruit platter, wondering where the hell he is.

I snatch my phone from the kitchen island, ready to complain to Stu when the front door opens. Gabe strolls through the kitchen as if he owns the place, wearing a black shirt that matches his soul and carrying a coffee cup.

"The car's here." He stops within arm's reach; the scent of his crisp aftershave tickles my nose as he hands me the coffee cup. "This is for you."

I take it from him, flinching at his touch, and feel the warmth spreading through my fingers. Maybe I'm just jaded from a lifetime of being duped, but his sudden kindness makes me wary. "What's this?"

A faint smirk crosses his lips. He leans against the counter across from me, his tan, tattooed forearm grazing mine. "It's a coffee cup, Piccola."

"I can see that, Gabriel," I say, keeping my eyes on him. He enjoys it when I look away, thinking he can unsettle me, but I won't give him the satisfaction. After begging for his help last night, I need to hold onto whatever control I can. "What happened to 'I'm not your slave, I'm not your boyfriend, and I'm not here to hand hold you?'"

He shrugs as he snatches a handful of my blueberries and pops them into his mouth. "Call it a peace offering."

I'm not fooled for a moment. This isn't about making peace; it's about pity. He saw how scared I was about the stalker last night, how I needed him, and now he feels sorry for me. Well, I don't want his pity.

"I appreciate the gesture," I say, taking a sip, surprised to find it's a caramel latte, "but it'll take more than a cup of coffee to make me forget what you did. Some begging, at the very least."

"I don't beg for anyone." He winks. "Not even you, Piccola."

Ignoring the sudden heat in my cheeks, I say, "That's what makes it a punishment, Mr. Loretto."

"Believe me." His voice comes low and fast in the silence, making me shiver. "Following you around is punishment enough."

Something dangerous settles in my stomach. I drop my gaze until it's firmly on his mouth, imagining for a moment, what it would be like to kiss him. Fireworks, I'm betting. Hot nights and hotel rooms come to mind, the kind of passion I've tried to avoid so far, having learned from my mother how dangerous those types of men are. And Gabe?

I have a feeling he's the worst of all.

"The feeling is mutual," I say, sliding off my barstool and getting to my feet. "If you're done stealing my breakfast, can we go?"

The corner of Gabe's mouth lifts as he places a hand on my lower back, guiding me outside to the waiting car. I try to push aside the sensation of his touch as I slide into the back seat with my coffee. I exhale when he joins me, telling the driver to head to The Beverly Hills Hotel.

For the first ten minutes, we drive in silence as I double-check today's schedule. The shoot is from 9:30 to 11:30, followed by a business lunch at 12:00. Kat will handle the security fitters at 2:00. My final appointment—a hair touch-up—is at 4:00, leaving me free for the rest of the evening.