Page 13 of Of Vows and Betrayal

Dressed now, I look in the mirror and take a deep breath, trying to steady the flutter of nerves that Javier’s impending presence brings. It’s ridiculous, really. He’s here to guard me, not to date me, and I need to remember that. Yet there’s something undeniably compelling about him that makes it difficult to remain indifferent.

My phone beeps—an alert from the front door announcing the arrival of my savior. Despite the pep talk I just gave myself, my stomach flips as I rush down the hall to the main entrance. Today, I don’t have to stick to my side of the house—I can just go out. It’s liberating.

As I enter the foyer, my steps falter when I spot him—Javier, leaning casually against the doorframe, his gaze intense and unwavering. The moment our eyes meet, a jolt of electricity shoots through me. He scans me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my Converse shoes, an unreadable expression crossing his face. A wave of self-consciousness washes over me. Maybe wearing my Converse was a bad idea… It probably makes me look younger, more immature.

Stop it, Phee! Literally, no one cares!I chide myself internally.

I straighten up as I approach him. He looks very intimidating in his dark suit and crisp white shirt, a few strands of his brown hair falling carelessly onto his forehead. Javier is extremely tall, easily towering over most people and definitely over my five-foot-two frame. His build not only suggests strength but also a rare gracefulness that isuncommon for a man his size. He doesn’t have to make a conscious effort to appear formidable like my father’s guards often do.

But it’s his face that captures my attention the most, bearing a remarkable resemblance to the actor Álex González, though his eyes tell their own unique story. Instead of dark, intense eyes, his are a vivid hazel, swirling with greens and browns. They light up his well-defined face, softening the chiseled jawline and prominent cheekbones. Each feature of his face seems sculpted, deliberate, from the straight line of his nose to the full, expressive lips that part slightly as he notices me staring. Caught in his gaze, the world around us blurs into insignificance, and I feel my cheeks start to burn from being caught.

“Ophelia,” he greets, bowing his head slightly. “I’m sorry if I took you by surprise. I’m not familiar with this bodyguard thing.” He looks down at his clothes. “Is this okay?”

“No, yes, sure.” My words tumble out in a rush. Please, God, kill me now. “You’re fine,” I finish, sounding rather lame.

The moment hangs between us, charged and awkward.

“Good. Where are we going?” Javier shifts seamlessly into his professional role, and I’m grateful for his straightforwardness—it makes things easier.

“I need to ask the guard station to send us a car, and then?—”

“I took my car, it’s fine.”

I cock my head, hesitant. “My father doesn’t like it when I get in the car with someone outside of the… family.”

“Ah, I see.” He adjusts his jacket, a hint of defiance in his eyes. “Well, your father better get used to it. If he wants me to protect you, we’ll do it my way.”

His assertiveness is refreshing, and I can’t help but smile, relieved to have someone on my side for once, not just looking to please my father.

“It works for me,” I say, a little too eagerly.

He seems taken aback by my enthusiasm, sizing me up with a prolonged gaze before nodding as if resolving an internal debate. “Okay then, let’s go. You can tell me where you want to go from the car.”

Too happy to agree, I half worry that my father might change his mind and come stop us at any moment. I open the door, step out, and freeze as I see Romero and his father—the all-powerful consigliere of the Gambino family—ascending the stairs.

Fuck,I curse internally but force a smile.

Romero pauses on the stairs, giving me a taunting look. “Ophelia, who knew you could dress like a woman?”

His father casts me an appreciative glance that makes my skin crawl. Romero might be a tolerable annoyance, being the twenty-six-year-old favorite on my father’s list for my hand in marriage, but his twice-married sixty-something father is another matter entirely.

I tense up and unexpectedly feel something solid against my back—Javier’s chest. It’s much too close, inappropriate even for a bodyguard, but I know it’s his instinct to protect.

I take a step forward, but I don’t miss the frown on Romero’s face. He hasn’t missed this closeness either.

“Can I help you?” Javier’s deep voice cuts through thetension, no longer touching me but still resonating.

“Oh, it’s okay, Javier. They work with my dad.” I quickly descend the stairs and turn to introduce him, catching Javier’s glare fixed on the two men. “This is Javier Vargas, my new bodyguard.”

“I see…” Romero says, eyeing Javier. “You take good care of her, alright? She’s precious cargo.” He throws me a flirty smile and a wink.

“I don’t need the reminder.” Javier’s voice drops to a husky whisper, his scowl deepening as he steps closer, the air between us charged with his protectiveness. “I know what my job entails,” he adds, his breath faintly touching the side of my face, making me acutely aware of how close he actually is.

I need to defuse this situation quickly before he gets killed on his first day. “Okay, we’re going now. I’ll see you at Francesca’s party, Romero. Mr. Carmine, my father is already waiting for you, I believe.”

Romero beams. “You’re actually coming? For real this time? No bellyache, nausea? Fainting spells?”

I blush, embarrassed—he knows my usual excuses well. “No, nothing at all. I’m looking forward to it.”

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