“You don’t have to worry about the sleeping arrangements,” Conor says, gesturing to his bag. “I’ve packed a single-person tent, and I plan on camping outside the van when we stop for rest. If the weather is bad, we can just get a hotel room.”
Damn it.
Think, Arianna. Think!
“But...what about...” My brain comes up empty as I search for a reason to not be alone with this man. Hell, a part of me wants to insist on still making the trip alone, but when I turn to my sister and see the worried look on her face, I decide that fighting Conor is not worth the upset it would cause her.
“Fine,” I snap. “But don’t think you can boss me around on this trip.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I turn away from him to hug my sister, “Please take care, Ari,” she whispers into my hair, hugging me back. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I’ll call every day,” I say, offering her a soft smile before turning to Luca. “Take care of my sister, Luca, or I’ll hunt you down.”
“You don’t scare me anymore, Ari,” he chuckles, but the laugh dies off when I glare at him. “Right, I’ll protect her with my life. I promise.”
Oh, I don’t doubt his words, or I wouldn’t even consider leaving. With a last smile and a wave at my twin and her boyfriend, I climb into the van.
“I’m driving,” I snap when Conor starts loading his things inside. “And don’t even think of touching the radio.”
“Lord save me from the spoiled in-laws,” he mumbles under his breath, and suddenly, I can’t wait for the trip to end.
Chapter Two
Conor
This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself in the company of someone who didn’t want protection. Most of the people we’re commissioned to serve as bodyguards for are wealthy celebrities and the children of politicians who are often convinced their parents are just paranoid. Well, that is until they find themselves kidnapped and in the back of a white van with snot and tears running down their faces.
It is, however, the first time I’ve found myself alone with someone who hates me for who I am rather than what I represent.
No, I bet Arianna Marino has no problems with bodyguards. Just this bodyguard.
And the thing is, I could have said no.
When Roarke called me about finding a bodyguard replacement for a client, my head was buried deep in case files. It took me a while to realize the client who needed protecting was Arianna Marino. The evil twin. The same one who always seems to give me the stink eye on the rare occasion we find ourselves in the same room.
My brother was uncharacteristically worried about the account—not just because Matteo Rossi is our biggest client, but because Elena, Roarke’s wife, is Arianna’s cousin. Family, in other words. And we don’t let family down. As someone who’sworked in this industry for years, I could have easily assigned one of the dozen people we have on call for this type of emergency and pushed the responsibility of protecting the evil twin on them.
But I didn’t.
When Matteo Rossi first hired our firm to protect the Marino women, I was surprised. Matteo Rossi is the donof one of the most powerful Italian mob families in all of New York City. He could have easily gotten his own men to do the work, but he chose us and paid a shit ton of money to ensure we got our best people on the job. My brother and I handpicked each bodyguard for the girls. We could have just as easily found a replacement for Arianna’s bodyguard, but Elena pleaded with me to personally take the job.
The thing is, I don’t work in the field anymore. I’m an investigator now—I dig into backgrounds, track down threats, and connect dots that other people miss. I do it from the comfort of my office, not from some cramped little camper van. I don’t squeeze into a tin can and travel with a woman across the country who clearly doesn’t want me there. But the terrified look on Elena’s face—a woman convinced her cousin would somehow end up in the hands of a serial killer—coupled with Roarke’s unwillingness to hire someone else for the job, pushed me into taking it.
And now, here I am.
I take my eyes off the road to study the girl who seems to hate my guts. Arianna is stunning. This close, I can see the light highlights in the tips of her short blonde hair. It’s cut to a perfect bob and frames her face so beautifully. Her eyes are the clearest blue that seem to change with light and mood—sometimes a bright vibrant azure, other times a softer, more gentle hue likewhen she’s talking to her sister. My eyes drop to her tank top, one that reveals the perfect curve of her breasts and the warm tan on her skin.
She wears beauty differently from the other Marino women. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all beautiful women, so I suppose the Marino gene must be strong, but they’re also so…delicate. In the way they look and speak. Arianna doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. At least not as openly as most people I’ve met before. She doesn’t allow herself to be vulnerable in public, and after spending considerable time watching her vlogs, I’m more certain of that. Hell, I’ve watched her navigate tricky situations—crowds that got too close, strangers who didn’t understand boundaries—and still maintain her cool, defend herself when forced to, and know when to walk away from a situation.
To prepare myself for the trip, I watched a few of her videos online. I was surprised that her channel had nothing to do with materialism, fashion, or makeup as I had suspected. No one watching her would think she came from money with how down-to-earth her videos were, focusing on exploring parts of the city or trying things that many are often curious about but are too nervous to try. It was interesting watching her do something as simple as trying new food trucks or going rock climbing in the Adirondack mountains—a trip she gifted herself on her eighteenth birthday.
When the camera is rolling, she becomes a completely different person, and now, I can’t help but wonder what she’d look like beneath me. Would those blue eyes still flash with defiance? Would that sharp mouth soften when I kissed it? Maybe something else? Would she glare at me as I touched those perfect tits covered in that little tank top? How much of her defenses would she drop with my cock buried balls deep insideher, slamming into her tight little pussy and giving her pleasure? Fuck, I can already see those twin gemstones going hazy as I grab hold of her hair and slide my cock into that gorgeous mouth...
Fucking hell, where did that thought come from?
I clear my throat and shift uncomfortably in my seat when I realize that I’m hard. And no, that’s not a fucking good thing. I’ve never gotten hard around a client before. Not while she was my direct responsibility, at least.
