Her Royal Bodyguard(4)

By: Natasha Moore

Tony? He’d always been Mia’s bodyguard. “Any news on Enzo and Donato?”

“They’re both still in surgery but it sounds like they’ll make it. Tony will watch over you until Enzo is well enough to resume his duties.” Rico’s dark gaze told her he still wasn’t happy with her. He took a step closer until he loomed over her. “When your guard tells you to do something, you follow orders, Your Highness. Do you understand? Princess or not, you must obey your bodyguard.”

“It all happened so fast. I didn’t have time to think about what was smart. Just what was right.”

His expression softened slightly. “We’ll find out who was behind this, Your Highness, but...” Rico paused, as if he debated whether to share more information with her.

“What?” This was her life they were talking about. “Don’t you dare hold anything back from me. I have the right to know.”

“There was no sign of anyone on that stretch of road. No blood. No bullet casings. Nothing.”

“What does that mean? Someone stopped our car. They shot Enzo and Donato. I didn’t imagine it.”

“Of course not, Your Highness. What I meant was this tells me these people were professionals. This was a planned attack and that they had the experience and the resources to quickly cover their tracks.”

Angelina shuddered. Why would anyone like that be after her? It seemed surreal. “I told you I can’t imagine anyone who would do this. Except…” Silver eyes and long blond hair flashed in her mind. A handsome face but a thin smile and a slimy kind of charm. His face red with anger.

“Except?” Rico repeated, taking a step closer. She had to tip her head back to look him in the eye. He looked so strong, so forbidding.

So hot.

She took a deep breath. Had she ever noticed his spicy scent before? It made her mouth water. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I just remembered the last charity dinner I went to. I was paired with Phillip, the Duke of Larkin.” Her face grew warm. This wasn’t the kind of conversation she wanted to have with Rico. With anyone. “He…he groped me.”

Storm clouds darkened Rico’s face. “He touched you inappropriately?”

“You could say that.” He’d pounced on her in the backseat of the limo on the way back from the dinner. She shivered as she remembered the way Phillip had suddenly turned into an octopus, hands everywhere, pushing her down onto the seat. She shuddered as she remembered. “But I know how to use my knee.”

Rico grinned and she realized how seldom she saw him smile. He always looked like the big bad bodyguard. She knew he was supposed to look intimidating, not sexy. He looked sexy now.

“Good for you, Your Highness.”

“Phillip did apologize profusely afterward, but I’m not sure it was sincere.”

The grin was gone and Rico was glowering at her again. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier when I asked you?”

“I didn’t want Vittorio to know.” She didn’t even want to imagine how that conversation would have gone. “You know how he is. I’ll always be his little sister and if he heard about something like that, he’d go crazy. And he’d tell our father and he’d go ever crazier.”

Rico’s expression almost looked a little crazy, but his calm mask was up in an instant and she wondered if she’d imagined it. He took another step closer, close enough to touch if she dared reach out her hand. “I can recommend someone to teach you self-defense.”

“Will you teach me?” Angelina was shocked at the way the words slipped out of her mouth on a soft, breathy whisper.

He cleared his throat and backed away, his expression carefully blank. Her face burned. “We have experienced trainers for that job, Your Highness.”

Job. That’s all she was to him. A job. She would have to remember that. She stiffened and took a step back as well. “Never mind. I took care of it without any training. Anyway, I can’t imagine kneeing a letch would be enough for him to hire men with guns to kidnap me.”

“Still, the team will look into it. Anyone else?”

She didn’t want to tell him about the other royal men she’d angered in the past couple years. A few of them had acted as if being matched up for one occasion meant that they had carte blanche to put their hands on her, even assume a future with her. She’d remained firm with them, blocked their calls so she didn’t have to hear from them again, and was coolly polite if she saw them again at another boring function. She’d been raised to be polite, the good princess, no matter what.