Bodyguard Beast: An Enemies To Lovers Romance Page 2

  I placed my hand over hers on my shoulder, my gaze filled with the deep love and gratitude I felt for her. I wished I could tell her she’d been more of a mother to me than my glamorous socialite mother, but I couldn’t betray my mom so I just said, “And you were my second mother, Gemma. Thank you, Gemma. For everything.”

  “Don’t let your mother hear that. It’ll make her jealous,” she said heartily.

  I laughed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be our secret.”

  She joined me in laughter before she announced, “Alright, we are finished.” She moved away to switch off the curling iron.

  “Funny you should bring that incident up, because I’ve been thinking of cutting my hair,” I mentioned, as I went to my bed to pick up the satin, knee length dress I had chosen earlier.

  “To what length?” she asked, taking a seat on the stool of the vanity I’d just vacated.

  “About here.” I placed the tips of my fingers on my shoulders.

  Her eyes widened in horror. Then she smacked her thigh and rose dramatically to her feet. “No! Don’t do that. Beautiful, thick, waist-length hair is a rarity these days.”

  “I need a change, Gemma,” I said, as I slipped off my robe.

  “Moving back home from London is already a very big change. Leave your hair alone. Every time I look at it, I envy you. Just look at mine.” She leaned down so I could inspect the thin layer of hair on the crown of her head. “I tell you, there is very little difference left these days between Anderson and I.”

  The expression on her face and the incongruous idea that there might be very little difference between her dramatic, colorful self ‒ and our terribly stoic and now almost bald English butler ‒ made me laugh so much, I ended up falling on the bed with the dress tangled around my legs. “You’re one crazy woman, you know,” I gasped, wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes. I never really realized just how much I missed being with someone I completely trusted. Someone who would never betray me no matter how much money was on the table.

  “I’m serious,” she said, coming to sit on the bed next to me. “As the years go by, I begin to think we’re starting to look alike, no?”

  When I was younger I’d watched Remains of the Day and always imagined Gemma Cannizaro and James Anderson as the characters that played the part of the butler and housekeeper. I’d been sure there was hidden yearning there ‒ but more than two decades later ‒ they were both single and showed no intention of ever leaving my parents’ home. To the best of my knowledge, Gemma was still a virgin. Sometimes I sensed the sadness in her smile, and always tried my best to behave as if I was the daughter she never had.

  “Well, I’ve got news for you. You look absolutely nothing like James.” I rose from the bed and pulled my dress up over my body, thank God, it was one of those materials that never creased.

  Gemma stood up. I turned around, and she zipped my dress up for me. Then I turned back to face her. “Do you know I always thought you guys would marry one day.”

  “So did I.”

  Her answer surprised me. “So … you were in love with him,” I whispered in awe.

  She smiled, but sadness showed in her eyes. “Yes.”

  I sat heavily on the bed. “What happened?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. He just wasn’t interested in me. It was all on my side.”

  “You mean you asked him and he said no?” I gasped incredulously.

  “Of course not,” she replied immediately. “I’m not that bold, but he had his chances. More than a few and he didn’t take them. Anyway that was another lifetime ago. We are both old now.”

  “You’re forty-two. That’s not old. Haven’t you heard, life begins at fifty.”

  “His pee-pee is probably all wrinkled and soft by now, anyway,” she muttered with a scowl.

  I giggled. “I could tell you how to get it hard again.”

  She looked scandalized. “How would you know? Have you been with a boy?”

  “No,” I admitted, “but I’ve done some reading and I’ve watched some movies.”

  She grinned naughtily. “Ah, dirty movies. I’ve watched a few of those in my younger days and all I learned is that plumbers have very big pee-pees.”

  I laughed, but didn’t tell her porn was no longer cheesy sketches about plumbers with big pee-pees. It had become an altogether different animal. I moved to put on the pair of blood red Christian Louboutin’s I had selected for the evening.

  Immediately, Gemma got on her knees to help me.

  I caught her hand. “Don’t do that,” I told her softly, “I can put my own shoes on, Gemma.”

  “I know that. I just wanted to help you.”

  “The way you can help me is to sit on the bed and entertain me while I put my own shoes on.”

  Amused, she sat on my bed and watched me. “Haven’t you had any boyfriends at all after these years abroad?”

  A bundle of memories instantly came to mind, none of which I particularly wanted to revisit, so I just gave her a summary, “Not really. There was no one that I really clicked with. Somehow, it was never right. I could never imagine any of their pee-pees inside my body.”

  “You’ll find someone. Someone who deserves a beautiful soul like you,” she said softly.

  When I was done with the shoes, I stood and walked towards the full-length mirror.

  Gemma clapped her hands with sheer delight. “I love the cut of that dress,” she said.

  “It’s beautiful,” I agreed, turning and looking over my shoulder to inspect the back of the dress. A perfect fit. The cream material had an off-shoulder neckline while cinched at the waist. The skirt was cut to swirl gently around my knees.

  I sprayed perfume into the air and walked into it a few times, then turned towards her. “All done,” I announced.

  “Sei Bellissima, amore mio,” she complimented in Italian.

  You are very beautiful, my love. It had been a long time since I heard that. I felt my cheeks heat. I walked up to her and kissed her cheek. “You know, I love you, right.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  A brief knock came on the door. We both turned as it was immediately pushed open.

  My mom appeared in a stunning, form fitting floor-length black gown. Her dark hair had been pulled into a chignon at the back of her head, and pearl earrings adorned her ear lobes. As beautiful as a movie star, no one could imagine she was my mother. “You’re ready,” she said. “Finally! Everyone is waiting. They can’t wait to meet you. And Gemma, Nonna needs you.” She waved her hand in the air. “She was complaining about her stomach. Apparently, only you can help.”

  “On my way, Senora,” Gemma replied and immediately left the room.

  My mom came up to me and critically inspected me. “Turn around,” she ordered.

  Obediently, I twirled for her.

  “Gorgeous,” she approved. “All eyes will be on you. Let’s go.”

  “I really don’t understand why eyes need to be on me,” I grumbled.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said as she dragged me along. “These are your friends and family, and they haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.”

  "I’m pretty sure I won’t know more than five people down there. They’re your friends and family.”

  She stopped. “Are you going to be grumpy about this?”

  “No,” I groaned. My mother and I didn’t see eye to eye. I would never be able to understand the need for throwing a banquet to welcome a nobody back home.

  But since I had returned for good, I couldn’t pick a fight and not be haunted by it for weeks because my mom actually could keep a grudge for that long. I always had London to escape back to when my holidays came to an end. But for now, I needed to keep the peace as much as I could.

  If I let my mother have her way for now, it wouldn’t count as a strike against me in the future. I had a list of difficult requests I wanted granted later. Things she wouldn’t like. Things she didn’t consider women should be doing. br />
  Chapter 4

  Sienna

  The party was held in the foyer, an expansive glistening area that could have passed for a mini ballroom. Exquisite marble columns, black and white granite floor, crystal chandeliers, and the grand piano by one corner, made the area a perfect hosting space.

  When we reached the top of the stairs, I looked down and the base of the dramatically sweeping staircase was filled with elegantly dressed, chatting people holding flutes of champagne.

  Families and friends, I was told they were, although I couldn’t pick out a single familiar face. I had been away too long. First boarding school, then college. It had been my father’s way of protecting me and keeping me out of the way. Once he realized my mother could bear no more children, I became precious to him. I was just about to descend one side of the dramatic winding staircase, when I realized my mother had halted at the top.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Go ahead. I want you to make an entrance. All of the spotlight needs to solely be on you.”

  It took all of the restraint I had not to roll my eyes at her or argue with her. This was exactly the kind of thing I hated. I was no society belle and this kind of attention would probably just make me trip and fall. But the window for protesting had closed as some of the guests had already began to notice me. I let out a sigh of resignation, and with my head held high, I began my careful descent. The prospect of falling and breaking my bones seemed very real.

  “Sienna! Darling!” a high shrill voice called.

  More people stopped their conversation as heads and eyes turned towards me.

  I felt like an animal in a cage. There wasn’t anything less necessary in the world than this. My preference would have been to take the elevator on the other side of the house and unobtrusively join the crowd.

  The stairs seemed to go on forever, but finally I conquered the last step and felt the solidity of the black and white floor.

  Bright, smiling faces closed around me.

  I smiled back nervously as compliments and well wishes were showered on me.

  “You look gorgeous!”

  “Beautiful!”

  “Welcome home, darling!”

  “How proud your parents must be.”

  Of course, I didn’t voice my feelings, but the extravagance and lavishness of their compliments repelled and horrified me. Was this how it would be from now on? I had thoroughly enjoyed my humble, anonymous existence in England and longed to have it back. More compliments were showered on me. I knew they weren’t real. They were just paying homage to my father’s power and money.

  “You look so beautiful!”

  “Welcome back, sweetie. You look amazing.”

  “You’re not going to say hello to your Aunt Aldina?”

  This particular Aunt I immediately recognized and I turned blindly towards her. I was pulled into a fleshy bear hug as her strong perfume of jasmine and spices filled my nostrils. Before I could recover, I was pulled away by another family member. Someone introduced me to cousins I hadn’t seen in years. “Remember when you guys used to play naked in the pool.”

  I smiled.

  They smiled, but we were all strangers to each other now.

  “Next on the agenda is a grand wedding for Sienna,” a woman’s voice boomed.

  I died a little inside, but outwardly, my smile didn’t fade.

  A waitress dressed in black with a frilly white apron came around with a silver tray full of champagne flutes.

  I grabbed one and downed more than half the glass in one gulp. What an incredibly long night I had ahead of me.

  A barrage of intrusive questions began. I should explain … Italians have no sense of personal space or privacy. I looked around for my mother to rescue me, but she seemed to have disappeared. I sucked it all up and made my way through the crowd. My eyes were firmly on the arch at the back of the room. As I got closer to escape, I began to move faster.

  When I could bear it no more … I broke into a run.

  Hurrying down the corridor, I pulled open the door of the kitchen, and stepped into the familiar space. It was bustling with activity. In the stark white of the massive space, I instantly spotted Gemma in her navy blue and white housekeeping uniform. She stood next to the massive island. Platters of food were spread across it.

  There were about five waiters surrounding her, listening to her instructions.

  I made my way over to her.

  She turned and smiled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hiding.”

  “Come, come now. It’s not that bad to be belle of the ball.”

  “Ugh … I hate it. I don’t even know them and they’re all obsessed with when I’m getting married.”

  She laughed. “Smile and they’ll forget what they asked. You’re that beautiful.”

  I reached for a mini bruschetta and popped it into my mouth. “Yeah, right,” I muttered.

  “Sienna, what are you doing here?”

  My eyes widened as I heard my mother’s voice. I picked up another bruschetta and turned. “Nothing. Just came for one of these.”

  She frowned. “Everyone’s asking for you.”

  “Yeah?”

  She took the tiny piece of garlic toast covered in chopped tomatoes and basil away from my hand then pushed me back out to a sea of smiling snakes. I tried to apply the advice Gemma had given me as the outright harassment continued. To my great surprise, it worked. All I had to do was just smile and nod.

  “I suppose your father will be grooming you to run the family business now,” a sly man I had never met before commented.

  My smile slipped.

  He stared at me curiously. “No?”

  I swallowed audibly. What I wanted to say would have caused a riot in the room.

  Thankfully, at that very moment, the attention shifted perceptibly to a different part of the room. The twittering crowd went silent.

  My grandmother stood at the edge of the room. She looked as if she had come from a glamorous past long gone, perhaps from the court of one of the ancient ruling houses of Italy.

  Although all eyes were on her, hers was solely on me.

  I felt my tense body sag with relief. She had come to rescue me. She extended her hands towards me, and immediately the wall of people parted. With my head held high, I walked towards her. From the corner of my eye, I could see my mother scowling furiously, but like a guardian angel Nonna spirited me away from the madding crowd towards her apartment on the ground floor.

  As soon as my back was to them, I stared while grinning from ear to ear. Only Nonna could have gotten away with such blatant rudeness.

  Chapter 5

  Sienna

  My angel and I sat in her living room overlooking the rose garden while we played dealer’s choice and drank cups of soothing chamomile tea. She had beaten me twice already and was enjoying every moment of her wins. I relished her victory with all of my heart.

  “Nonna, every time I play this with you, it seems like you’ve gotten better.”

  “I do have a lot of time on my hands,” she replied in her elegant voice, “and nothing to do but practice. Did your father ever tell you that he lost this house to me when we were playing in the spring?”

  My mouth fell open. “You’re joking. Did he really transfer the deed to you?”

  “Not yet.” She laughed.

  “Will you? Accept it from him, I mean.”

  “Of course not, it was a friendly match. The only perk I'm interested in is the power to lord my ownership of the roof over his head. I do this whenever he gets out of line.”

  I revered her. No one but Nonna could say such a thing about my fearsome father. I lost any influence over him when I was two. He ruled over our household with an iron hand. Stand means stand. Sit means sit. “Next time you’re playing with him, can you please win me his Performante Spyder? He’s never let me touch it, but yet he doesn’t use it himself either. What a waste.”

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nbsp; She frowned. “What on earth would you do with that beast of a car?”

  I grinned. “Drive it fast somewhere?”

  She shook her head disapprovingly. “Young girls nowadays. The things you want to do …”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll probably wrap it around a lamppost and kill yourself in the process,” she stated, then revealed her cards.

  Yet again, I lost! Severely. “Again?” I mock complained, when in actual fact I loved watching the twinkle in her eyes.

  She held her chest as she cackled with laughter at my expression.

  “Nonna, you’re way too scary when you laugh like that.”

  “Like a hyena?” she asked, her voice filled with amusement.

  I made a face. “Exactly.”

  We put the cards away when one of the maids brought a platter of fruit.

  “What are your plans from here onwards?” she asked, picking up a slice of persimmon.

  She was the first person to ask me this. Ever since I returned, I had featured inside everyone else’s plans, but only she had asked me about my plan. About what I intended to do.

  I leaned forward, and enveloped her in a hug.

  “What’s this for?” She laughed.

  “Thank you,” I said, “for all the calls and letters while I was in England. I kept every single letter you wrote.”

  She patted my back gently. “You’re my baby. Why should you be thanking me for something like that? I don’t thank you for writing back to me. I expect it. Now tell me what is really bothering you.”

  I pulled away from her. “I’ve always danced to everyone else’s tunes. I’ve gone to school, I've gotten the degree, and now it seems I’m going to be pushed down the ‘next step’. What I really want to do is try my hand at something I’m passionate about.”

  “For instance?”

  I searched her eyes, for just an instant, I had a fear of being mocked. This would be the first time I told any member of my family about this. But in her eyes, I found only patience and pure love, so I took a deep breath and dove in, “For instance, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at something related to fashion … well, not fashion exactly, but shoes … and since we’re in LA perhaps even create a brand? Who knows?”