Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
“Everything will be okay,” I murmur to Evangeline as Ben pulls away from the manor and speeds down the insanely long drive, coordinates of the cabin already plugged into the GPS. “I’ll take care of you, princess.”
I mean what I say. I won’t let a single fucking thing hurt this woman, won’t let a single person touch a hair on her head.
Evangeline Graves is mine.
And I’ll protect her no matter what it takes.
2
EVANGELINE
I’m nowhere near Enzo’s levels of calm, but I haven’t burst into tears or had a full-on panic attack yet, so I’m pretty damn proud of myself anyway.
It’s not every day you get told there’s someone out to literally kidnap and kill you. And, sure, having the Graves name means we’ve dealt with security threats before, but nothing so bad I had to be evacuated from my own home like the place was on fire. The curl of gnawing anxiety in my gut is impossible to ignore.
And yet…I can’t deny that the reason I’m not an actual sobbing mess cowering in the footwell of this car is because of the man beside me. Enzo Mazzetti. Bodyguard, tattooed wall of muscle, and star of all my fantasies.
I’m no stranger to having a bodyguard follow me around, not that I normally get to go farther than the local mall without an entire damn SWAT team by my side. I know it’s probably wrong, but I can’t help the small part of me that’s…well…excited by the idea of an adventure, especially one with Enzo by my side. I’m not excited about the threats, obviously, but I’ve seen Enzo training in the gym.
Well, okay, I may have purposefully gone for a stroll on the treadmill when I knew he’d be making use of the sparring mats for training. Shirtless, sweaty, and grappling and throwing punches with an ease that made it look more like dancing than wrestling, there’s no way in hell anything’s getting past Enzo to me.
I trust him implicitly.
The other guard who’s driving the car, Ben? Now that’s another story. That guy gives me the ick. I’ve caught him staring at me a few times, but it’s a far cry from the way I’ve caught Enzo looking at me. No, Enzo sneaks glances with fire in his eyes and hunger in the tight, sharp cut of his jaw. Ben looks at me like a slab of meat or a lamb he wants to slaughter. I shudder at the thought.
I zone out for most of the drive, my mind spinning with worry for my Dad and for myself, the anticipation of going somewhere new, and wildly unrealistic fantasies about what it means to be somewhere secluded and unpopulated with Enzo close by.
My gaze slides to the man beside me, and my breath hitches in my throat when I catch him already watching me. My body, already running hot from all the images my mind is conjuring, lights up like a firework under his attention.
Heat flows between my legs in a rush, and I squeeze my thighs together to try to relieve some of the building pressure, trying to be subtle about it. But Enzo’s entire job requires him to notice the small things, and when his piercing blue gaze dips down to my lap and then back to my eyes, his eyes darken, lids lowering. His tongue wets his lower lip, and God save me, I can’t hide the shiver that runs over me.
He notices that, too.
Our heat-filled staring contest is broken as the car jerks to a stop. So caught up in Enzo’s eyes, I didn’t even realize that we were near the cabin. Enzo looks away first, alert as a guard dog with its ears perked up, immediately analyzing our surroundings through the windows.
“I’ll get Miss Graves inside and secure. Please run the perimeter check and report back to Mr. Graves and the boss,” Enzo instructs Ben, who sends him a snide look back in the rearview mirror.
Nevertheless, he doesn’t argue and exits the car without a word, immediately heading off to do whatever is involved in a perimeter check. It leaves Enzo and me alone, and that only ratchets my awareness of him even higher. He reaches for the door handle, and I greedily analyze the way his bicep bulges and how the veins on his forearm stand out as he pushes the door open.
I’m about to follow him out of the car, but my door is opened before I can even grab the handle. Enzo stands there, holding it open for me like my personal chauffeur, a smirk on his ridiculously handsome face as though he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
I climb out, barely able to take in my surroundings because Enzo is all I can see. Who cares about how the trees look when the man in front of me is more gorgeous than any scenery?