Mafia Princess

Chapter Twenty-One

Twilight...not mine (sigh).

Chapter Twenty-One

BPOV

"You know, if you hold that scowl long enough, your face will stay like that permanently," Emmett snickered as he got into the driver's seat that Edward just vacated. He sped off in his janky-looking Mustang.

"Fuck off, Emmett," I spat.

"Whoa, you ragging or something?" he asked, holding his hands up defensively.

"Don't make me hurt you, Emmett McCarty, so help me God, I will!" I yelled. "Why him? Why couldn't you be my bodyguard?"

"Bambina, I'm too much of a softie. Especially for you," Emmett said as he tugged on my ponytail. "Charlie knew that Edward wouldn't deal with your bullshit. Fuck, he was amazing out there."

"Good for him. I don't want him as my bodyguard. I'd rather Aro Motherfucking Volturi get me," I screamed, pulling at my hair.

Emmett turned and glared at me, looking like a very pissed off Charlie. "You listen here, brat. We're doing this to protect you. If you can't appreciate that, then it's your fucking loss. I highly suggest you grow up and deal with the hand you've been dealt. Play nice with Edward. He's a good man and will protect you with his life."

I huffed, falling back onto the chair.

Emmett drove us back to my house. As soon as I got back, I ran into my room and slammed my door. Yes, I was acting like a brat, but I didn't want him. Well, I didn't want Edward as my bodyguard. I wanted him in other ways. With him as the head of my security, that surely will never happen.

I decided to put my anger elsewhere. I stripped off my outfit and went down to the gym in the basement of our home. It was right off the indoor pool. I started off with running for five miles on the treadmill, sweating off my anger and aggression. It wasn't enough. I finished with my run and taped up my hands before walking to the punching bag. I spent the next hour, beating the crap out of the bag, pretending it was Edward.

Fucking bodyguard with perfect eyes.

UGH!

"You're dropping your left shoulder," said a velvety voice. "It leaves you vulnerable to attack."

"I'm not really attacking anything, Edward," I said. "I'm hitting a fucking bag."

"You may be hitting a fucking bag but if you practice that way, you'll fight that way and it's a sure-fire way to get hurt or killed," Edward said as he narrowed his eyes. He strode over to the treadmill, tossed in a water bottle and plugged in his iPod into his ears. He started off slowly, building up to a pretty fast-paced run. He looked very Zen as he pounded the treadmill. Ignore him. Yes, he's hot and covered with tats, but he's off limits.

With one more round of beating the crap out of the punching bag, I left the workout room. Edward had already run five miles by the time I was done and it looked like he wasn't stopping either. His skin glistened with sweat and I could see the muscles ripple underneath his tight t-shirt.

I'll give him this much. He was a lot easier on the eyes than Jacob or Seth. Edward looked over at me and gave me this crooked grin. It completely changed his face. His eyes twinkled and he looked happy. Nope. Don't want that. I scowled, leaving him to his workout and going upstairs to shower.

Afterward, I called Angie to see how her dad was doing. He was fine. It was a flesh wound and only required the super glue for flesh. We talked for a few more minutes before she had to go. We made plans to go shopping before Billy's memorial to pick up some new dresses for the wake and funeral. Once off the phone, I did some homework for school and submitting my assignments online to my professors. I explained that I had a death in the family and wouldn't be in classes until Monday.

I was getting ready to go to bed when someone knocked on my door. It better not be Edward or I swear, I'll attack him, drop in my left shoulder be damned.

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