The Darkest Devotion

CHAPTER SIX

GABRIELLA

For a few seconds after the words are uttered from Papa’s lips, I am quiet. Unable to speak. Unable to think.

A bodyguard.

I lock gazes with that of the man standing behind my father, the man currently invading my space.

My soon-to-be bodyguard.

This cannot be happening.

He’s tall, the tallest man I’ve ever stood in the same space with, which is easy to identify because I barely hang around men. My eyes travel the slow path from his feet, clad in expensive-looking leather, to his long legs in a dark suit, up to his broad shoulders, and finally to his blank face. There’s only one word to describe his features.

Striking.

He has the kind of face that cannot be ignored. His hair is just as dark as the suit he’s wearing. His eyes are a vivid green, his piercing gaze fixed unwaveringly on me. His face is cold, devoid of any recognizable emotion.

Other than his physical appearance, there’s something else… something I can’t quite place a finger on, something about him that makes dread settle in the pit of my stomach.

I don’t like him.

My head whips back to Papa. “No.”

He tuts like he was expecting my response. “This is not a suggestion, Gabriella.”

“It’s not an option either,” I shoot back. “I will not have a bodyguard follow me around school, Papa. Do you know what that would look like?” My body shudders at the horror of everyone seeing this hunk of a man follow me around. “Plus, it’s an invasion of my privacy.”

A flash of anger crosses his face. I’m talking back at him. He hates that.

Which is why the next words that come out of his mouth are laced with finality.

“It is one out of the only two options you have: accept Leon as your bodyguard or return to Italy with me this afternoon.”

His words hang in the air as he walks away. He heads over to the master bedroom in the hotel suite, leaving me alone with the bodyguard who still hasn’t said a word. I stand there for just a few seconds, anger and frustration boiling in my veins, before chasing after him.

I find him zipping his suitcase shut on the bed.

“Coming here was my chance to live a normal life,” I start, my tone quieter. Softer. “I thought I could finally have that. I thought—”

“You can never have a normal life.” He turns to fully face me. “Assassins don’t go after normal people.”

My heart does a painful lurch at his words. My hands curl into fists at my side as tears blur my vision.

‘Whose fault is that?’ I want to scream, but my lips remain clamped shut, quivering but silent.

An exasperated sigh escapes his lips when the first tear falls from my face.

“I am just trying to protect you.”

I’ve heard that my whole life.

I keep you locked up in the house because I’m trying to protect you. You cannot have friends because I’m trying to protect you. I’ll assign a strange man to follow you everywhere because I’m trying to protect you.

When I remain quiet, he steps forward and pulls me towards him. “These are the sacrifices that we have to make.” He pats the back of my hair gently.

“It’s not fair.” My voice is broken. Defeated.

“Life is unfair. We can’t always get what we want.”

I roll my eyes till they hit the back of my head before pulling away and wiping my tears.

Papa might be annoying, overprotective, and controlling, but sometimes, I understand why he acts the way he does. He has a lot of enemies. If he didn’t get the confirmation before, watching his daughter almost get shot served as a harsh reminder.

He caresses my cheek. “Now, give me a smile.”

“You’re reaching,” I huff, stepping away from him.

“You won’t see me for a while. Surely, you’ll miss me.”

I give him the smile he wants. When he’s done packing his things, I’m the one who pulls him in for a hug. He kisses my hair and whispers how badly he’ll miss me. I don’t say anything back, because I don’t want to lie to him. I think he knows—we both know—that I won’t miss him.

***

The car trunk slams shut behind me, and a quiet groan slips past my lips as the driver’s door is pulled open. My new bodyguard settles into the front seat, which should be my spot in the car if I knew how to drive, turns on the ignition, and pulls out of the hotel driveway.

Leon.

I study him through the rearview mirror. The matte black aviators covering his eyes. The sharp angles of his face, all focused and serious, stare right ahead at the road before him. Throughout the two hours of me meeting him, his face hasn’t moved.

He has the same expression as he did when Papa and I stepped out of the room earlier for a more proper conversation about our situation. Leon would not only have to take me everywhere, but he would also be moving in with me. I wanted to argue, scream, and yell at Papa, but I didn’t because there was no point. He had made it clear what my only two options were.

But I’ve never been one to back down from a fight. And now that my father is on a flight to another part of the world, now I can fight.

I study the way his hands move as he controls the steering wheel, the way his thick fingers curl around the edges, and his movements, rigid yet fluid at the same time. There’s something about him, something that keeps me looking, watching even though I despise him already.

I pride myself on being loving and kind, but I don’t feel even a flicker of guilt for hating this man already without even knowing him.

Something shifts in the air. A prickly feeling rises on my skin as I look at the pitch black covering his eyes. I can’t see the exact direction he’s looking at, but something in my gut tells me it’s right at me.

I look away.

Realizing I have more important things to do, like inform my friends of my whereabouts, I retrieve my phone from my purse and turn it on. Another flash of anger zaps through me as I remember that Papa only released my phone and other devices before he left for the airport. He completely cut me off from the world, just like he does whenever he feels he’s not in control.

The phone comes on, and a few notifications come in. I immediately open my messages, reading from the oldest on my birthday down to the newest from this morning.

Lisa

‘I hope you’re on your way already. Can’t have a birthday party without the birthday girl.’

‘Okay, where are you? Everyone keeps asking, and by everyone, I mean Jack.’

‘Seriously, babes, aren’t you coming anymore?’

‘At this point, I doubt you are.’

‘You missed school today. You never miss school. What’s wrong?’

I sigh, tapping on Nicole’s name.

Nicole

‘Did Daddy take your phone or something? Did he hear about the party? Don’t tell me you told him…’

I might be naive, but I’m not stupid. I could never tell Papa I’m going for a party.

‘Why let us plan the party in the first place if you knew you weren’t coming?’

I ignore the dull pang in my chest, scrolling down to the next message from this morning.

‘Did you tell your father we had a test today? Does he not care about your education?’

I almost click my phone shut in anger. I shouldn’t be angry. Nicole is right; it’s my father’s fault I missed school and the party. But didn’t she stop to think there might be something else? She’s always quick to point accusatory fingers, and I hate it because she’s mostly right.

My emotions have turned high again that I barely acknowledge the text from an unknown number.

‘Happy birthday, pretty girl. Excited to see you at the party.’

I guess the message is from Jack.

I send a quick text to Lisa and Nicole, telling them I’ll explain everything that happened the next time we meet. But when I drop the phone beside me, everything suddenly feels too overwhelming.

The murder attempt, being isolated since then, missing my first school test, everything.

And the icing on top of the cake—having a bodyguard.

“Take me to my friends’ dorm instead,” I say without thinking. The last place I want to be right now is in my house, alone with him.

I rattle on the school address, though I believe he already knows where that is.

He doesn’t say or do anything that shows he heard me. I’m not surprised at this point. He’s probably just always like this.

I relax into the plush leather seat, tapping my fingers nervously on my jeans-clad lap. But I’m far from relaxed. My nerves are pulled taut; I’m frustrated and exhausted.

I look outside the car window, glancing over the tall, glass skyscrapers, signboards, and busy roads. I don’t know where we are. I don’t know anywhere, actually, except for the route to school from my house and from my house to school.

Which is why I immediately perk up on my seat when we pull into the familiar street where my penthouse apartment is located.

“I asked you to take me to my school dorm.”

Leon doesn’t respond.

“I believe I’m talking to a human being!”

He keeps driving until the car is rolling into the underground parking garage of the building. He slows to a stop at a free spot but doesn’t turn off the car.

“I don’t know what my father told you, but—”

Leon twists in his seat, the movement so fast and sudden it startles me. Something heavy lands on my lap. I glance down to see a tablet, and the first words I read make me grip the edge of the screen.

‘Rules And Regulations For Ward.’

A bitter scoff leaves my lips as my eyes skim through the document.

No activity outside school hours is allowed, including partying or hanging out with friends. No dating. No social media use. Limited contact list…

“This is outrageous,” I grit out, immediately grabbing my phone and dialing Papa’s number. It goes straight to voicemail.

“None of these rules will be applied because my father is gone and you work for me,” I tell him.

“I don’t work for you. I work for your father.”

It’s my first time hearing his voice, the first time he’s speaking to me directly. I shouldn’t be shocked by the way it sounds—deep, gruff, and cold, just like him—but it sends a shiver down my spine.

I hate it.

“My father might be your employer, but you work for me,” I repeat, my voice firmer and louder than before.

I guess he has exceeded his speaking quota for the day because he doesn’t say anything else. The seatbelt clicks as he unbuckles it. He gets down from the car and walks over to, I assume, open my door for me. The asshole. Ignoring me like my sentiments are insignificant to him.

They probably are.

Which is why I move without thinking. I don’t realize what I’m doing until I’m climbing to the front seat, slamming the driver’s door shut, and twisting the key still in the ignition.

I see a flash of movement outside, Leon trying to salvage the situation. But there’s nothing he can do. My feet press down hard against the gas; I press a button, and the car lurches forward.

The car is moving.

I’m driving. I’m f*****g driving.

That’s when the nerves grip my body. I twist the steering wheel to the far right and slam both feet down against the two pedals. The car screeches loudly, quickly heading towards another car parked directly in front of me.

I take the only other option available. I swerve and drive right into the wall.