Vittoria

This is insane. How am I supposed to survive on a ranch? What do people even do there?

"Ti voglio tanto bene." Mamma kisses my cheeks, her lips trembling slightly against my skin. "See you soon, amore mio."

I barely manage a nod. "Yeah, love you too," I mutter, though my voice sounds smaller than I want it to.

"Be careful, tesoro," she whispers, gripping my shoulders. "Again, listen to Cooper. He knows what he is doing."

"I heard you the first time, Mamma," I say, even though listening to anyone has never been my strong suit.

Papà stands close to Cooper, nodding toward a duffel bag one of his men, Dante, is loading into the trunk. "That is one million dollars in cash. Everything else has been provided. Keep her safe," he says to Cooper.

"I will, Mr. Giordano," Cooper replies, his voice annoyingly confident.

"You better. That is my daughter," Papà warns, his gaze sharp enough to pierce skin.

The words should warm me, but instead, all I hear is that is my pawn, who needs to survive long enough to marry Antonio Calafiori.

Dante approaches them. "Everything has been loaded."

Cooper gazes into the trunk, then turns to me. "Ten bags? There won't be paparazzi obsessing over your outfits."

"These are essentials," I argue, crossing my arms. "What if I need different clothes for different weather?" Cooper rubs his temple, taking a deep breath.

Mamma touches my arm. "Vittoria, please. Try not to be stubborn."

"I am cooperating!" I protest, glaring at her. "I'm getting in the car, aren't I?"

We both get into the car, and the heat hits me immediately. "Why the hell is it so hot?" I wave my hands frantically in front of my face. "Did you steal this from a junkyard?"

"This is the same car your maid drives. It's meant to fool the hitman into thinking you're still in Italy, buying us time," he says, glancing at me briefly. "If it's too hot, take your top off."

I blink. "Excuse me? Are you seriously suggesting I strip in front of you?"

"I'm giving you options. You can keep complaining, or you can do what is comfortable," he says.

I eye him with a slow, dangerous smirk. "Are you sure you love dick? Because I'm sensing a lot of sexual tension in the air."

"For the second time, I don't swing that way. And even if I did, you're not my type," he says, tone clipped.

That stings more than it should, probably because Cooper is ruggedly handsome, the kind of man who could make nuns question their vows.

"What is your type exactly?" I press, letting the sarcasm drip like venom. "Let me guess, dumb twinks with LA accents and a personality of a toad?"

"Intelligent, confident, sexy men who crave being dominated in bed," he answers calmly, his eyes still fixed on the road.

"So you're into BDSM," I say, keeping my voice steady, though my pulse jumps. "Explains why you're so damn sadistic."

"I dabble a bit. Nothing extreme just whips, cuffs, and spanking," he replies, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Don't get any ideas, though. I'm not planning on teaching you any lessons," he adds, switching lanes.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Fck, that sounds hot. Too bad he is gay, and I'm engaged to someone else.

"Well, send my sympathy to the men you have traumatized. I'm sure most of them need therapy after being in your orbit."

"That's strange," he says, one corner of his mouth twitching like he is trying not to smile. "I usually have to file restraining orders for people stalking me."

I completely get why those guys are drawn to him. One taste of Cooper's irresistible daddy vibe, and I would be just as clingy, labels be damned.

"Bullsht. Keep telling yourself that," I mutter, forcing a laugh that comes out more jealous than amused. "They are probably just crazy men with severe daddy issues."

"Whatever you say, brat. Here is your passport," he says, tossing it toward me.

"It's Vittoria, asshole." I snap, snatching it out of the air. "And I swear, if you call me that one more time..."

"You will what?" he challenges, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Btch to your father?"

"I only express justified frustration!" I spit, opening the booklet. Seeing my new identity churns my stomach.

"I'm sure there is a difference," he says dryly, driving to the private airport. "Your cover story is in the folder behind your seat."

I reach back and grab it, flipping through pages of fabricated documents. "These AI pictures of me, are crazy."

"The more real it looks, the safer you are," he says. "Memorize everything. Your life might depend on it."

"Jesus, no pressure or anything," I mutter.

We drive in silence for a few minutes before Cooper speaks again. "Your father told me you speak three languages?"

"Four, actually. English, French, Spanish, and obviously Italian." I reply, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. "What, surprised the mafia princess has actual skills?"

"A little," he admits. "It might come in handy. Houston attracts all types."

The jet waiting at the private airport makes it all feel real because it isn't ours. I'm no longer Vittoria Giordano. I'm Arianna fcking nobody.

A man in a pilot's uniform greets us at the stairs. "Mr. Hayes? We're ready for departure whenever you are."

"Thank you, Captain," Cooper says, then turns to me. "After you, princess."

"It's Arianna now," I correct him bitterly as I climb the stairs.

Inside the jet, a flight attendant with a tight smile approaches. "Can I get you anything before takeoff? Water? Coffee?"

"Champagne," I say automatically.

"Water for both of us," Cooper interrupts, giving me a pointed look.

I slump into my seat, the weight of my new reality crushing down on me. "This is going to be hell, isn't it?"

"Probably," Cooper agrees, settling into the seat across from me.

VITTORIA

"Let's go over the dos and donts," Cooper says, his tone annoyingly parental. "No phones. Hand that over. It might be hacked."

"Oh fck no." I clutch my phone tighter. "I have to know what my friends are doing. Who knows how long I will be locked up?"

"There is a burner for emergencies." He reaches for it, and I defend myself the only way I can.

"Did you just fcking bite me?"

"I am not giving it to you. I can't live without this." I protest, tucking it into my shirt. He gives me that are you kidding me glare before snatching it right out of my cleavage.

"You didn't just reach into my bra." I shriek, my face burning.

"I did what was necessary," he replies coolly.

"I hate you." I yell as he pockets it inside his jacket.

"I don't give a fck. Rule number two, don't leave the property without me, even if the house is on fire. Rule number three, you will participate in chores."

"Do I look like I wash dishes? A maid takes care of that." I don't even know how to make my bed. The staff does everything. God, I am so spoiled.

"That brings us to rule number four, before I was rudely interrupted." I roll my eyes and look out the window at the sky.

"Are you even listening?" he asks sharply.

"Unfortunately yes. Please continue your tyrannical manifesto."

"No one else is allowed in the house. You will have to learn to do chores. What is the saying? Baby steps until you get there."

"Controlling motherfcker," I whisper under my breath.

A small smile tugging at his lips tells me he heard that. "Rule number five," he continues. "We will spend only on essentials. Number six, never let your cover slip. You aren't there to make friends."

"What if a sexy cowboy likes me?" I ask, testing him for a reaction.

"Tell him to fck off. Nobody is allowed to touch you."

The possessiveness in his tone sends a bolt down my spine. He has no right to sound like that, especially when he claims he isn't attracted to women.

"Number seven.."

"You mean number eight? The nobody should touch you part wasn't a rule."

"That isn't a rule. It is the mentality you should have around men," he says firmly, his eyes blazing with a fire that makes my chest tighten.

"Except you, and the stallion waiting to bang the sht out of me for the sake of promoting peace between our families."

A stallion I have never even met, his face familiar only from pictures. My future happiness reduced to a business transaction.

"Antonio Calafiori," Cooper says quietly. "Your father told me about him."

"What did you think?" I ask, hating how desperate I sound for his opinion.

"He seems adequate," Cooper replies, his jaw tight.

"That is all you have to say about the man I am supposed to marry?"

"What do you want me to say, Vittoria? That he is a lucky bastard?" The words come out sharp, almost bitter.

"Maybe that would be nice to hear for once," I mutter, looking away.

Another hostess approaches with the bottles of water. "Your drinks sir," she says, her eyes lingering on Cooper and his muscles.

"Thank you." He glances at her name tag. "Jesse," he says, smiling politely.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before walking away, her hips swaying more than necessary. Is he seriously flirting with her right now?

"What if I am craving a big fat dick to stretch me, just like our slutty Jesse?" I say after she disappears into the cockpit.

I know I am being petty, but watching him charm her while treating me like a burden twists something dark in my chest.

"I didn't do that to get into her pants," he says, opening his water bottle. "I was reading her body language. Someone with military training won't relax in combat mode."

Yeah right. If I weren't here, this 'gay man' and that btch would have joined the Mile High Club.

"You still haven't told me what I am supposed to do when I am horny."

"Use a vibrator. Don't pretend you don't have one," he replies without missing a beat.

Heat floods my face. He isn't wrong. There really are three in my luggage.

"Jerk," I mutter to cover my embarrassment.

"Number seven, in the event something happens to me, don't involve the cops. Take the cash and go straight to the United States embassy."

"Why not the Italian embassy?"

"We don't know how connected this person is or how far they will go to end your life." he explains.

"And if both embassies are compromised?" I ask, genuine fear creeping into my voice.

"Then you use those language skills and disappear," Cooper says, his expression softening slightly. "Obey these rules, and we will have a better fighting chance. Any more questions?"

"No Daddy. I will be a good little girl," I murmur, my tone more teasing than I intend.

Cooper's eyes darken, and his jaw tightens before his mask slips back into place. "Don't ever call me that," he says, his voice low and strained.

"Does it bother you, Cooper?" I press, leaning forward slightly.

"It is inappropriate," he says, looking away.

"That isn't what I asked." I tilt my head, studying the tension in his shoulders. "I asked if it bothers you."

"No," he admits through gritted teeth.

"Liar." I smile, feeling bold. "Your jaw does this thing when you are lying, it twitches."

"You are imagining things."

"Am I?" I lean closer, close enough to smell his cologne. "Then why are you gripping that armrest like you want to strangle it?"

Jesse returns with a bright smile. "Can I get you anything else before we begin our descent?"

"No thank you," Cooper says, his voice perfectly controlled again, as if the last few minutes never happened. She nods and walks away, leaving us in charged silence.

But I saw the crack in his armor. And now that I know it is there, I can't help but wonder how far I can push before it shatters completely.

COOPER

Her teasing makes my cock twitch. One look at Vittoria's picture during the briefing at the office a few days ago made it clear this assignment was going to be trouble.

The way her full lips curled in annoyance, told me she is the kind of girl who would derail a man without even meaning to.

Those dark, fiery eyes practically beg, Come tame me, Daddy.And I hate that my brain even goes there. I should have requested a reassignment, but I didn't maybe it's because some stupid part of me wants to prove I can resist her.

"Princess, we're here." I watch her sleepy eyes widen in horror as she takes in the property.

"God, what is that smell?" she says, pinching her nose.

"That is cow dung, princess. Welcome to Texas."

I keep my voice neutral, but the smirk on my face gives me away. This is going to be blockbuster worthy entertainment.

"Nope, I can't do this. Turn the car around right now!" She lunges for the steering wheel, and for a second, I swear she might actually try jumping out of the moving vehicle.

I shove her hands away, the girl has no sense of danger. "I signed a contract to keep you safe, and I promised your mom I would protect you, especially from your own stupidity."

"My mother doesn't understand what she's putting me through," she snaps, crossing her arms. "This is punishment."

Your mother is terrified, I want to say. She thinks she might lose you the way I lost, nope not going there.

"Your mother understands perfectly well. Someone wants you dead, remember?" I kill the engine. "Now get out."

She sighs dramatically, before stepping out, her hips swaying in that infuriating way she probably doesn't even realize she is doing. I round the car and grab my stuff.

I clear, my throat. "Your bags? No one here is your personal assistant."

She turns raising an eyebrow. "Cooper, what are your big muscles for? Put them to work." Then she struts inside, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

I haul them up the gravel path, sweat forming despite the cool air. Who the hell travels with this much stuff for approximately two months of hiding?

"Our maids live in better houses than this dump," she gestures around the living room, with enough disgust written all over her face.

I take a quick look at the decor it isn't villa quality but it's more than decent.

"This isn't a vacation. A flashy house, more your style, defeats the point of laying low." I drop her bags by the stairs, my patience thinning

"At least tell me there's a pool, please."

"Sorry to disappoint princess, no pool. There is a treehouse built by the previous owners."

She narrows her eyes. "Was that a joke? Do I look eight to you, Mr. Robot?"

"You certainly act like a spoiled little girl who needs disciplining." And I instantly regret it, because she licks her lips. Making my pulse skips, fck.

"Careful, Cooper. You might actually have to follow through on that threat."

"Oh, you poor thing," I say dryly, trying to hide my arousal. "You will survive in a four bedroom crib most people would kill to stay in."

"Is this how you treated your ex boyfriends, or am I getting special treatment?"

"I gotta clarify, we're not dating."

"Exactly. I wouldn't date someone like you anyway. You definitely have bipolar disorder or something."

I freeze, shoving my shaking hands into my pockets. My fingers brush the six familiar sides of the die I always carry, keeping the memories from crawling back.

"Go unpack," I say tightly. "Then come down and help make dinner." I walk off before she sees how deep those careless words cut.

I bring in the remaining bags and throw myself into work installing security alarms, checking the perimeter, and changing every lock.

The physical labor helps, it always does. I stock the pantry that by the time I finish, the tremor in my hands eases.

I'm pouring a protein shake into a glass when a crash sounds upstairs, something heavy smashing to the floor, followed by a stream of curses. My instincts kick in instantly.

"Vittoria?" I call, quickly rushing up the stairs. "You okay up there?"

No response, my chest tighten. I push open the bedroom door and freeze.

Vittoria stands in the middle of the room wearing a short, baggy shirt. Sht. She sure has a sexy body. I force the thought away. This kid is an assignment, nothing more.

"How hard did you hit your head?"

"I'm fine." She tries to shove me off, staggering a little.

"You're bleeding. Sit down before you pass out."

"I said I'm fine, Cooper. Stop treating me like I'm made of glass."

"Fcking sit brat." I gently guide her to the bed, my hands brushing her warm skin. "Let me see."

She drops her hand, revealing a small gash along her hairline, blood trickling down her temple.

"What happened?" I ask, keeping my voice steady.

"I tried to reach the top shelf, stood on a piece of luggage, and fell."

"Why didn't you just ask for help?"

"Because I'm not some helpless damsel, despite what you think."

"Asking for help isn't weakness, it's common sense. You could have broken your neck."

"But I didn't. I just scraped my head a little."

"That's more than a scrape, you need stitches."

Her eyes widen. "Cooper no fcking way, take me to a hospital."

"The nearest one is forty minutes away, and we're supposed to be invisible, remember?"

She looks at me uncertainly, then nods. "Fine. But if you scar me, I'm suing your agency."

"Don't move an inch," I say, already moving for the first aid kit.

This is what I hate about my profession, you have to use your essential skills to cater to the whims of the wealthy.