I knew something was off the second I was called to my father's office before breakfast. In this house, early morning meetings weren't about sunshine and family bonding.

They were warnings. Calculated conversations layered with threats, masked as concern. So when I stood outside that tall, intimidating door, mahogany, carved with our crest, I already knew I was in trouble.

I adjusted the hem of my oversized T-shirt, yanked the sleeves down my wrists, and knocked twice.

"Come in," came the sharp voice from inside. Cold. Commanding. My father's voice could slice through glass if he wanted it to.

I stepped in, ready to fake innocence as always, but stopped short.

He was sitting behind his monstrous desk, the kind of desk that made you feel like a child no matter how grown you were.

But it wasn't my father who caught my attention. No. It was the man standing in front of him.

Tall. Broad. Clad in black from head to toe, like he'd walked out of a high-end funeral or a Hollywood heist.

His suit fit too well to be off the rack, and the way he turned to face me slow, calculated, felt like a threat wrapped in elegance.

My gaze dragged up to meet his, and god...

My mouth actually parted.

He was fine.

Not just attractive, deadly attractive. Sculpted jaw, short dark hair, eyes so unreadable they might as well have been carved from granite.

He looked like he hadn't smiled in years. And something told me even if he did, it wouldn't reach his eyes.

I let out a low whistle under my breath. "Damn."

"Valencia," my father snapped, cutting through my wandering thoughts like a dagger.

I blinked, dragging my eyes away from tall-dark-and-lethal to face the man who birthed me. "Yes?"

"This is Blake Caruso. Your personal bodyguard. Effective immediately."

My smile dropped. "I'm sorry... what now?"

Without a word, one of my father's men dropped a thick file in front of me. I opened it and instantly wished I hadn't.

Photos. Screenshots. Reports. Security footage. Every chaotic thing I'd done in the last thirty days, printed out in color like I was some kind of damn criminal.

I saw myself dancing on a bar, flipping off a security camera, walking out of a club barefoot with someone else's jacket slung over my shoulder. And that was just the first page.

"The club incident wasn't that serious," I said, tossing the file closed. "No one died. A few bruises, maybe a broken arm or two, they were fine."

My father didn't even flinch. "And the 'friend' who kidnapped you?"

I shrugged. "He tied me to a chair. We were just playing around."

"He's dead, Valencia."

I smiled faintly. "Yeah. I noticed."

He didn't laugh. No one did.

"I don't need a bodyguard," I said, crossing my arms. "They do."

"You're getting a bodyguard because you've become reckless," he said sharply. "And Blake isn't just here to keep you alive. He's here to keep you in line."

"But—"

"Fine della discussione," he said in a final, clipped tone. (End of discussion.)

That was how things worked in the Garvano house. You didn't argue. You obeyed — or someone disappeared.

I turned on my heel and stormed out, muttering "Fine," under my breath.

Of course, the fine-as-hell bodyguard followed me. Silent steps. Heavy presence. Like a shadow I hadn't asked for but couldn't get rid of.

I glanced back at him. "So, Blake... You sure you're my bodyguard? Not my next boyfriend?"

His expression didn't change. "I'm sure, ma'am."

"Mm. You just wanna stalk me, admit it."

"I'm your bodyguard. Not your stalker."

"Same thing."

He didn't reply.

"I have school in an hour," I said, heading upstairs. "Guess you're coming too."

"I go where you go."

I rolled my eyes. "You're gonna be very popular with my girls."

I showered, dressed — black crop top, red leather jacket, and a skirt that screamed I-don't-care-but-you-will.

When I walked down, Blake was waiting near the door. His eyes flicked toward me... and then right past me. Not a single compliment. Not even a second glance.

The audacity.

"Are you allergic to looking at me or something?" I asked, brushing past him.

"No. I'm looking for threats."

"Then you should be looking at me."

I didn't wait for a reply as I strutted to the black SUV parked outside. He was already scanning the perimeter like this was a war zone.

Before I could step out, he shut the door in my face, stood outside for five seconds, then opened it again.

"Excuse me?" I said. "Why did you close the door on me like I'm a damn child?"

"I was checking for potential threats, princess," he said.

I raised a brow. "Princess? Trying to flirt now?"

"Don't flatter yourself. That's what I call all my clients."

Clients.

Plural.

I didn't reply. I just smiled sweetly and walked ahead of him. We'll see how long you stay that cold, Blake.

Our school Southwood Academy, a prestigious elite prep in the heart of LA, looked like a college campus and acted like a social battlefield. As I stepped out of the car and onto campus grounds, all eyes turned.

They always did. I was the girl everyone wanted to be or wanted to hate. And behind me, Blake looked like a bodyguard in a mafia film. Dangerous. Stoic. Gorgeous.

I could already hear the whispers.

I strutted toward the courtyard, and there they were, my girls. Layla, Jessica, Sofi, and Ivy. All four turned toward me at once, but their eyes landed behind me.

Jessica smirked. "Ohhh, who's the tall drink of sin behind you, Valencia? New boyfriend?"

"No," I said with a wicked grin. "Just my stalker."

Blake coughed, actually coughed, before composing himself. "Her bodyguard."

Ivy ran her fingers through her hair. "Bodyguard? That means... we still have a chance."

"Have at him," I said sweetly. "I'm not the jealous type."

"I am," Blake muttered under his breath.

I turned, lips curled. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

The girls giggled and started stepping closer to him. I watched, amused, as panic briefly flashed in his eyes. He gritted his jaw and threw me a glare.

That's what you get for calling me just another client, sweetheart.

"Alright, ladies," I said. "Let's not scare the poor man. I've got class. You can flirt with him after school."

Layla winked at him. "See you later, hottie."

In class, Blake stood at the back, arms crossed, eyes scanning everything and everyone like he was expecting a gunfight.

I ignored the whispers and slid into my seat, until Noah strolled up. Football captain. Wannabe bad boy. And hopelessly persistent.

"Valencia," he said, leaning on my desk. "You free after school?"

I gave him a tired smile. "Not tonight, Noah."

"Come on, Val. I've been asking for weeks. One date. I promise it'll be worth it."

Before I could answer, Blake stepped forward, towering over him like a threat dressed in Armani.

"She said no."

Noah straightened. "Who the hell are you?"

"My stalker," I said casually.

"Her bodyguard," Blake corrected, voice ice-cold. "And I suggest you walk away before I explain all the ways I can make you regret standing here."

Noah backed up instantly, muttering under his breath.

I looked at Blake, lips twitching. "Jealous much?"

"I'm doing my job," he said flatly.

"Right," I teased. "Your job includes glaring at anyone with a pulse near me."

He didn't answer.

The teacher walked in, calling out names, but my attention stayed on Blake. He didn't sit. He didn't relax. He was always watching.

Always ready.

And yet, I wondered...

What would it take to make a man like that break?

"Valencia," the teacher said suddenly. "Principal wants to see you. Now."

I smirked, gathered my bag, and stood.

Blake was already by the door.

Let the fun begin.

I didn't need Blake breathing down my neck as I walked toward the principal's office — but, of course, he was there. Silent. Brooding. Like a shadow stitched to my heels. I didn't acknowledge him, just strutted across the school corridor like it was my personal runway.

We reached the door. I didn't knock. Didn't even pause.

I walked in like I owned the place.

Principal Harris looked up, startled by my entrance. He stood quickly, plastering on that fake-principal-smile that reeked of nerves. "Good morning, Valencia. Please, have a seat."

I dropped into the leather chair in front of his desk, legs crossed, expression bored. "Let's get to the point, shall we?"

He cleared his throat, fingers twitching nervously as he picked up a file. "You see, uh... One of your classmates, Leah... her parents submitted a rather serious complaint."

"Oh?" I arched a brow. "Do tell."

"Well, according to the report, you allegedly... burned her car and had it dropped into their swimming pool. Using a helicopter."

He looked up, almost hopeful, like I might say it was all just a misunderstanding.

I didn't.

"That bitch needed a lesson."

His face paled, voice faltering. "So... it is true?"

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk and smirking. "If you're thinking of suspending me or whatever, I can always call my father."

It was a bluff, I wouldn't dare. He already threw a bodyguard at me. If he found out about this? He'd have me homeschooled. Caged. Monitored twenty-four-seven like a misbehaving mafia heir which, okay, I technically was.

Principal Harris sat straighter, shaking his head quickly. "No, no need to disturb Mr. Garvano. No need for that. I'm sure we can... manage this internally."

"That's what I thought." I stood and adjusted my jacket. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd rather not miss my class over something so... trivial."

I turned on my heel and walked out, heels clicking like gunshots across the marble floor. Blake followed, of course. Like a silent storm.

I stopped in the hallway and faced him, lips curled. "So... are you going to run to Daddy and tell him?"

He didn't even blink. "You can't bribe me, princess."

I pouted. "Come on, I didn't really do much."

Blake raised a brow, dry amusement flickering in those stormy eyes. "Didn't do much? You burned a girl's car and airlifted it into her pool. You committed arson and used a helicopter like it was your personal toy."

"She had it coming."

"Let me guess," he said, crossing his arms. "She looked at you wrong?"

I folded mine in return. "Close enough. We were at a party. I told my friend not to invite her, but she did anyway. Leah acted like the biggest pick-me in the room. And when guys still paid more attention to me, she 'accidentally' spilled her drink on my dress. A silk Chanel. White. It wasn't an accident."

"So, naturally," Blake said, "your response was to destroy her car and drop it in her pool."

"Exactly," I said with a grin. "Now you're getting it."

He stared at me like I was insane.

"I won't do it again," I added quickly, shifting my tone to sweet. "Promise. Just... don't tell my dad. Please. I don't want to be locked inside that mansion again. I'll die of boredom."

His voice lowered. "I'm not here to be your accomplice. I'm here to report everything."

I groaned. "You're hopeless."

"And you're reckless," he replied flatly.

I narrowed my eyes. "I swear, I'll get my revenge."

He didn't reply. Just kept walking behind me like the loyal watchdog he was.

Lunchtime was loud, chaotic — the kind of noise that made people like me itch for a weapon. I followed Valencia into the cafeteria, eyes scanning every corner, every exit, every wannabe boy who might try flirting with her while forgetting she belonged to a family that could erase their existence overnight.

We made it to her table a swarm of designer bags, overdone lip gloss, and girls who looked at me like I was the next dessert on the menu. I hated it.

"Go get my lunch, Blake," Valencia said like I was her butler.

I didn't argue. I needed space.

But before I could even move up the line, that idiot from earlier, Noah stepped in front of me like he wanted round two.

"Hey, bodyguard," he sneered. "You think I was scared of you earlier? Nah."

His little sidekick snickered behind him. I stared him down, stepped closer.

"If I wasn't being paid to keep calm," I said slowly, "you wouldn't be standing here right now."

He backed up instantly, muttering some excuse about football practice before vanishing. Coward.

I grabbed Valencia's overpriced lunch and brought it back to her table, just in time to hear her friends planning something idiotic.

"A new club opened up in the West District," Layla was saying. "Word is, big mafia names get VIP treatment for free."

"You in, Val?" Ivy asked. "Your last name's literally a golden ticket."

Valencia smirked. "I'm in. Drinks on me."

I gave her a look. A don't-even-think-about-it kind of look.

She ignored it, her smile growing smug. This girl was a damn menace. But her father? He'd skin me alive if I let her out after what she did to Leah.

I smirked back, slowly. Just wait, Princess. Your party plans are about to go up in flames.

After school, the car was already waiting. I slid in, Blake right behind me, silent and cold.

"Blake..." I said in my best guilty-little-rich-girl tone. "You're not really gonna tell my dad, are you?"

"I already did."

I gasped. "You traitor!"

He didn't look at me. "I'm your bodyguard. Not your best friend. Not your little secret-keeper."

I leaned toward him, grinning. "What if I flirt with you for a month? Two, even?"

He snorted. "That your idea of a bribe now?"

"It worked on Noah."

He looked out the window. "I need your father to punish you. Maybe then you'll stop pulling this mafia-princess stunt."

I rolled my eyes. "So basically, you're just a terrible bodyguard who can't handle me."

He turned slowly, finally meeting my eyes. "You have no idea what I can handle, princess."

The tone of his voice made my stomach tighten.

I stared at him. "What the hell does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

Of course he didn't.

We reached the mansion. I stepped out, turned back, and stuck my tongue out at him before stomping toward the front doors.

That man was infuriating.

Later that Evening

I was mid-call with the girls, planning outfits and rides to the club, when a knock landed at my door.

"Ma'am," one of the staff said. "Mr. Garvano is expecting you in his study."

I groaned. "Shot that man snitched."

Jessica laughed through the phone. "You mean your hot bodyguard? Girl, call us after your sentencing."

I hung up and made my way down the hall.

I knocked.

"Come in," my father's voice called from within.

I stepped inside, smiling like the angel I'd never been. "Yes, Dad?"

He didn't smile back. "Drop the act, Valencia. Blake already informed me of the incident."

Of course he did.

"Would you like to explain why you thought throwing a burning car into a swimming pool was a reasonable reaction?"

"It was revenge."

"Revenge," he repeated, standing behind his desk. "Valencia, revenge is something you take when you're old enough to run your own empire. Not as a spoiled teenager with access to a helicopter."

I grinned. "So you admit it was just a little damage?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You're grounded for two weeks. Be thankful I'm being generous."

"Two weeks?!" I shouted. "I was going to hit that new club tonight!"

"No," he said sharply. "It's dangerous. And with the way you've been acting lately, I can't risk another public scandal. Niente ma."  (No buts.)

I stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me.

Blake was waiting in the hallway.

He gave me that smug look again the one that made me want to throw something expensive at his face.

"You will pay for this," I growled, pushing past him.

He chuckled under his breath. "Looking forward to it, princess."

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