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HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD
Last Updated : 2025-02-06
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BOOK ONE OF THE BILLIONAIRE WIVES CLUB Gina has the picture-perfect, page-six in the TMZ kind of marriage with the billionaire heir Mark Washington. It’s perfect, uncomplicated and anything any woman would wish for. Well, that is until a threat on her life, lands the sinfully hot Dante into her life and well, in her bed as her bodyguard. But Dante might hiding secrets of his own. Deep, dark ones.
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HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 4. TRUTH BOMB
CHAPTER FOUR: TRUTH BOMBHere I am again, bombarded by a sea of flashing cameras as I strike poses on the red carpet, Mark’s arm wrapped protectively around my waist. The clicks and flashes are relentless, each photographer vying for the perfect shot. We’re at the premiere of a movie Mark had financed, part of his recent venture into the film industry. He’s been dipping his toes into various business areas lately, and this latest project seems to have all the makings of a success. Inside the theater, I find myself sandwiched between Mark on my left and Evelyn on my right, her fiancé Ron seated beside her. I’ve only met Ron once before during a company dinner. He seemed more on the quiet, soft-spoken side. I think Evelyn mentioned he works as a sports reporter for the national TV network. He seemed nice, very opposite Evelyn’s sharp, commanding presence. The lights dim, and the movie begins. From the opening scene, it’s clear this is no ordinary production. The visuals are stunning,
Last Updated : 2025-02-06HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 3. A LONELY NIGHT
CHAPTER THREE: A LONELY NIGHTDo you know what sucks more than your husband getting a PR crisis on your anniversary night? It’s knowing your best friend is miles away on a different continent, and asleep. I glance at the clock on my phone. It’s nearly four in the morning wherever she is, and I know she’ll be waking up soon for work. It would be rude to call her now, even though I’m desperate to hear her voice, to have someone to vent to, someone who gets it. I miss her so much.So, here I am, sitting on the terrace, staring out at the beach. The soft crash of the waves and the salty breeze do little to soothe the restlessness bubbling in my chest. A half-empty bottle of wine sits next to me, and I lazily twirl the glass in my hand, watching the liquid catch the light from the string of fairy lights overhead. Inside, the ball is still in full swing. The sound of distant laughter and clinking glasses filters out through the open doors. For a second, I stare at the entrance hoping that
Last Updated : 2025-02-06HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 2. THE ANNIVERSARY BALL
CHAPTER TWO: THE ANNIVERSARY BALLThe anniversary ball is going great so far, or at least as great as it can be. The grand hall is alive with the soft drone of conversation, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. It’s the kind of event that screams opulence, the kind that makes you straighten your posture and double-check your reflection in every surface you pass. Well, the Washington family has always had standard. They are the kind to make sure you remember them.And sure, I can’t deny the thrill of the compliments that come our way every five seconds. “You two are such a stunning couple,” one guest gushes, while another chimes in with, “Mark is so lucky to have you. You complement him perfectly.” It’s flattering, but after the fifth or sixth time, the words start to feel like a script, rehearsed and carefully calculated. Because I know the truth. They’re not really praising me. Oh, no. They’re buttering up my husband. Every smile, every fucking r
Last Updated : 2025-02-06HER ITALIAN BODYGUARD 1. HAPPY THIRD ANNIVERSARY
PROLOGUEI was seven years old, fully decked out in metal braces that glinted in the sunlight much to my chagrin and those wide-rimmed glasses that made my face look rounder than it already was, when the Washingtons moved across the street into the fanciest townhouse in Everwood Cove. The movers had arrived the day before, and judging by the six massive moving vans clogging the narrow street, it was clear that whoever was moving in had to be loaded. The kind of loaded my mom always whispered about with raised eyebrows and a tilt of her head, as if to suggest it was a bit obscene. She had peeked through the window much like every other neighbour on this street, muttering a few judgemental nonsensicals. Typical mum.The next day, right around noon, the family of three rolled into town in their sleek, jet-black BMW with windows so tinted you couldn’t tell if someone was inside unless the door swung open. And when it did, they stepped out like something out of a movie. That was the first
Last Updated : 2025-02-06
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1. HAPPY THIRD ANNIVERSARY
PROLOGUEI was seven years old, fully decked out in metal braces that glinted in the sunlight much to my chagrin and those wide-rimmed glasses that made my face look rounder than it already was, when the Washingtons moved across the street into the fanciest townhouse in Everwood Cove. The movers had arrived the day before, and judging by the six massive moving vans clogging the narrow street, it was clear that whoever was moving in had to be loaded. The kind of loaded my mom always whispered about with raised eyebrows and a tilt of her head, as if to suggest it was a bit obscene. She had peeked through the window much like every other neighbour on this street, muttering a few judgemental nonsensicals. Typical mum.The next day, right around noon, the family of three rolled into town in their sleek, jet-black BMW with windows so tinted you couldn’t tell if someone was inside unless the door swung open. And when it did, they stepped out like something out of a movie. That was the first...
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