I found him seated on one of the benches in the locker room.
Thankfully, he was already covered in dark briefs. The arrogant stud didn’t even turn around to acknowledge my presence.
“You’re one of the bodyguards, aren’t you?”
He remained silent as he rose to his feet and began to rummage through his locker.
I went on, “If you are, then you must know who I am. Why didn’t you help me?”
Silence.
I didn’t want to be that insufferable bitch no one liked, but I had already pursued the matter this far and my pride needed a response. “I can report this,” I threatened. “And there’s no way it’s not going to get you in trouble.”
He slammed the locker door shut.
I couldn’t help but jump.
“Sure,” he finally spoke. “Report that you couldn’t do something as basic as get yourself out of the pool. Such incompetency would no doubt make your father proud.”
I felt astounded. Robbed of speech, all I could do was stare as he dressed himself. First, came his jeans, then he carelessly pulled a dark tee over his head. He grabbed his bag and without looking at me, he headed out.
I recovered from my daze and jumped in front of him.
He stopped at the sudden ambush, a slight frown tugging at his brows.
Hell, up this close, he was really handsome with an aristocratic Roman nose, sensuous lips, and of course, those eyes. Those wonderful aquamarine eyes. It made me wonder why I hadn’t seen him around, and I began to doubt he was even one of the bodyguards who resided in the compound. I couldn’t imagine one of my father’s employees being so rude to the family. But if he wasn’t a bodyguard, who the hell was he?
“Apologize,” I said fiercely. “And then I’ll let this go.”
“Why do I owe you an apology?”
“You should have helped me.”
He shrugged those powerful shoulders. “I’m not obligated to do anything without your father’s instruction. And I did retrieve your phone.”
“Which you broke!” I accused. “You flung it on the tiles.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he said impatiently. “Get out of my way!"
“No, I’m not moving until you apologize.”
“Then you’re going to be here a very long time,” he drawled.
“What’s your name?” I demanded, getting exasperated. “Because I’m not going to let this go.”
He took a step towards me.
It took everything I had not to move back. I folded my arms defiantly across my chest, suddenly aware I was half-naked before him, and the movements had brought my breasts together to create a not-inconsiderable cleavage.
But his eyes didn’t stray. Not one bit. He was totally uninterested in my charms. “Angelo Barone,” he replied. “That’s my name. Off you go, little brat. Go and do your worst.”
I actually felt too shocked to respond.
He stepped around me and walked away.
Speechless, I turned to watch him leave.
What an asshole!!!!
Chapter 3
Sienna
“Gemma, are you familiar with the bodyguards?” I asked.
Gemma had been with our family for so long, there were pictures of her holding me as a one-day old baby. She had come from Sicily to work as a maid when she was eighteen years old. Slowly, she had risen in rank to become housekeeper. Then when she turned forty, my mother hired another housekeeper to take over almost all of her duties and made her head housekeeper, her only job was to oversee. Now she was more family than staff.
“Not really. Bodyguards don’t come under my jurisdiction,” she replied absently. “Why do you ask?”
“Uh, I was wondering if you knew one of them. A man called Angelo Barone.”
“Barone? No, I don’t think so. He might be one of the new boys. Why don’t you ask your father?” she murmured, wrapping the last section of my hair around the curling iron. A smile remained on her face as she ran her fingers through the wavy mass she had already completed. She exhaled a sigh of satisfaction. “You look like a Princess, Sienna.”
“Me, a Princess? I’m a tomboy, remember?” I grinned at the reflection in the mirror at her. She really was more like family than staff.
“Not anymore. You’re a beautiful woman now.” She released my hair from the iron, and fluffed out the thick soft waves of hair down my back. “I can still remember that time you found a pair of scissors and gave yourself a haircut. Huge chunks gone. In some places, all that was left was buzz. Your mother was furious. ‘You look like a boy,’ she scolded. ‘But that’s exactly how I want to look,’ you replied, thoroughly pleased with your efforts.” She paused, a smile on her face. “Four years old you were then. You were so adorable I could have popped you between two slices of bread and eaten you. Ah, time does fly away so fast.”
“You know, I remember that day. The look on your face when you found me in the bathroom shearing away at my hair. You were so horrified.”