HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD

13.NEW SECURITY DETAIL

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NEW SECURITY DETAIL

Somebody tried to kill me.

That single truth has consumed every corner of my mind for the past two days. My thoughts spiral in endless loops, chasing shadows, reliving the moment over and over again. From the searing fear, the disbelief, the bone-deep chill that hasn't left since. I haven’t called Diane yet. She would probably insist on being my personal bodyguard for the rest of her life.

Mark, on the other hand, has turned into a full-blown security hawk. He’s paranoid; obsessively so. Every bite of food, every sip of water is screened under his watchful eye. He’s taken time off work and practically glued himself to my side. At any other time, I might have found his hovering annoying. Now, I’m just too numb to care. I feel like a ghost in my own skin, trapped in a waking nightmare with no end in sight.

And as if surviving an assassination attempt wasn’t traumatic enough, now I have to deal with the circus outside. Somehow, the news leaked this morning. Now, there are reporters camping out in front of the mansion like vultures, cameras flashing through the gates, hungry for blood or scandal; maybe both. I don’t know who tipped them off, but they’ve made it impossible to breathe. Every time I glance out the window, another headline flashes through my head. Wife Targeted in Attempted Car Bombing. Wife to Washington Heir Narrowly Escapes Death. Who Wants Gina Dead?

My home, the one place that should’ve felt safe, has turned into a glass prison. The living room has become a makeshift war room. There are guards and investigators scattered throughout, voices overlapping as theories are tossed around and suspects speculated upon. Everyone has a theory. Everyone except me. I’m too busy trying to remember how to be alive.

And through it all, she is here. Evelyn. The woman I possibly hate just as much as my husband. Rone had shot me a message a few minutes ago to ask if I’m okay. He regretted leaving first. My boss from work too reached out and gave me time off.

Sitting on the arm of a chair. Evelyn like she belongs here. A crisp white blouse hugging her perfectly pregnant belly. The sight of it twists something inside me that I wish I could pretend didn’t exist. The child growing inside her, his child, is a living reminder of everything I’ve lost.

I down the rest of my wine and immediately refill the glass. My hands tremble slightly as I lift it again. I know I should probably stop. But stopping would mean feeling everything at once, and I’m not ready for that.

My eyes flick back to Evelyn’s stomach. Once or twice, I’ve caught Mark staring at it too. That part hurts more than I’ll ever admit out loud. It’s not longing exactly, but it’s something. A silent connection, however brief, that I can never be part of. A child ties people together in a way that not even betrayal can fully unravel. I turn my gaze away, jaw tight, throat burning.

To make matters worse, the security footage from the gala is missing. They found it completely wiped. No footage of who accessed the parking area, no visual of who could have tampered with the car. It’s like a clean cut through the only lifeline we had.

The investigators keep throwing around phrases like professional job, inside access, and deliberate erasure.

All I hear is: We’re nowhere closer to knowing who wants you dead.

Frustration barely scratches the surface of what I feel. It's something heavier, darker; anxiety wrapped in grief wrapped in a simmering rage I don’t know where to aim. I don’t know who to trust. And worst of all? I don’t know who’s next. Because someone out there wants me gone.

And I don’t think they’re finished.

Suddenly, it all feels too suffocating; the press camped outside, Evelyn’s presence inside, the constant whir of conversations around who might want me dead. The walls are closing in. My skin itches with the need to escape, to breathe somewhere no one’s watching me fall apart.

I stand abruptly and cross the room, tapping Mark’s shoulder. He pauses mid-sentence, turning to look at me with that familiar furrow of concern etched between his brows.

“Can we talk?” I say quietly.

“Of course,” he replies without hesitation.

We walk in silence, stepping out into the cool evening air and down into the garden. The night is still. Too still. The kind of silence that amplifies the chaos inside your chest. I stop beneath the sprawling fig tree, take a breath, and drop the bomb.

“I’m going home,” I say. “Back to Everwood Cove. Just… until all of this blows over.”

He stiffens immediately. “You think I’m going to let you? Are you f*****g dumb, Gina?” His voice is harsh, sharp with fear. “There’s a looming threat on your life.”

He clenches his jaw so tightly, I can hear his teeth grind. Then, slowly, he exhales and closes his eyes, trying to temper the rage.

When he opens them again, his voice is softer now, “Look… I get it. Seeing Evelyn here, working with me, it’s not ideal. I can only imagine how much it’s hurting you. Hell, I’d trade my life just to go back and undo everything, to make better choices.”

Right. Then why do you keep lying about when it started? Pretending the affair was only three months old when I already know it began five months ago? Yet you keep feeding me half-truths, hoping I’ll swallow them whole.

“I’m going home tonight,” I say flatly. “And that’s final.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, a nervous tic I’ve come to know all too well. “Fine,” he mutters after a beat of silence. “We’ll make sure no one knows you left. I’ll come up with a cover story. Meanwhile, I’m personally vetting a security team. When you come back, you’ll have your own personal bodyguard.”

I scoff, annoyed. “I don’t need a babysitter, Mark.”

His gaze hardens. “When it comes to your safety, I’m not compromising. Better know that.” He steps closer, voice low but firm. “So, do we have a deal?”

I hesitate for a beat, then exhale. “Fine.”

But the word tastes bitter in my mouth, like resignation soaked in wine and grief.