Enzo: Adamo Bodyguards Book 3 Read online

  Enzo

  Adamo Bodyguards Book 3

  Mia Madison

  Enzo (Adamo Bodyguards Book 3)

  Copyright 2019 Mia Madison

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 years of age or older.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Hanging With Mr. Hottie

  2. Because I Want To

  3. The Biggest Mistake

  4. Let’s Move

  5. Not For Nothing

  6. It’s Time

  7. Let Me

  8. The Luckiest Man

  9. Even More

  Epilogue

  Also by Mia Madison

  About the Author

  1

  Hanging With Mr. Hottie

  I’m not sure if I’ve done something brilliant, or incredibly foolish.

  The black SUV in which I’m a passenger winds its way through downtown. The driver — a man I met perhaps two minutes ago, and whose name I don’t yet know — glances at me. I say, “Which one are you?”

  “Enzo. Enzo Adamo.”

  A very Italian name, and he certainly looks the part. He’s got that whole tall, dark, and impossibly hot thing going on. “Nice to meet you. I’m Lucy Dalton.”

  Another glance from his dark eyes. “Former Governor Dalton’s granddaughter?”

  “Yes.” I’m disappointed, in ways I can’t explain, that he knows my family connection. I think it’s because I like him, and I want him to like me.

  Which is silly. You might even say incredibly foolish.

  Enzo turns into the parking lot adjacent to an old brick building. It’s not old in the sense of being rundown or anything; I just happen to know that it was built a long time ago.

  By my great-great-great-grandfather.

  “What brings you to Adamo Protection Services, Lucy Dalton?”

  “I need … well, protection.”

  “Who from?”

  “My family.”

  He looks at me sharply, but doesn’t say anything, just shuts off the engine and gets out. When I open my door, he’s already there, ready to help me down.

  I put my hand in his; electricity sparks up my arm and through my body, giving me tingles in all kinds of embarrassing places. Trying to keep my face impassive, I climb from the vehicle.

  He’s so tall. Once I’m on the ground, I have to tilt my head back to look at him. Each of his arms is bigger than both of mine put together.

  My breathing’s unsteady. Strange sensations are coursing through my body. I’ve never reacted to a man like this.

  The men in my family are lawyers, bankers, economists. They play golf, maybe tennis. Not one of them looks like he could bench press twice his own weight without difficulty.

  I’d always assumed that men like them, the sort I’d known all my life, who moved easily in my world, were my type. But of course, I’d never really had the chance to meet any other kind.

  I’m used to dealing with men who have financial and political power — to them, the only kind that matters. Enzo may not be a member of the ruling elite, but he’s the most compelling man I’ve ever encountered. Raw physical strength, and the kind of commanding presence that says he knows what he wants and how to get it, are a potent combination.

  I feel faintly dizzy as we walk together to a back entrance, where he codes us in and takes me upstairs to a suite of offices. There, he goes through another layer of security — not just a separate code, but a device that scans his entire finger.

  “Is that more than a fingerprint?” I ask.

  “Yeah, it’s finger vein recognition. More accurate, harder to fake.”

  I’m impressed. That kind of technology suggests that the Adamos both know what they’re doing, and take their business seriously.

  He leads me inside, past a reception area and down a hallway. We pass a good-sized, well-furnished office on our way to the small, tidy one he ushers me into. I take the chair he indicates, and he sits behind his desk.

  “Who has the fancy office?”

  “That’d be Juliet, our office manager. She usually does our initial client intake interviews. The rest of us are out working somewhere most of the time, so we don’t need much, just some space to keep our case files organized.”

  As he speaks, he opens a drawer in his desk and takes out a sheet of paper and a pen. “You don’t do surveillance, then?” I say.

  “It depends on the client’s needs.”

  “It’s just that this looks like a very low-tech operation, the security on your main entrance notwithstanding.”

  Now that I can see him better, it’s clear that Enzo’s in his thirties, probably at least a decade older than I am. He gives me a slow smile that makes my heart start to gallop.

  Did I say he was hot? Nothing so ordinary. Try scorching.

  “We have technology,” he says, still smiling. “We just don’t keep it on display.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” I feel silly again. This man keeps melting my brain.

  “You said you need protection from your family. What’s going on?”

  I worry a pleat of my skirt between my fingers. “This will probably sound ridiculous, and not at all like the kind of case you usually take on. But I assure you I’m completely serious.”

  “Go on.”

  “My family is … very traditional. Conservative, in the sense that they value loyalty to family over personal ambition. We’re all expected to do what’s right for the Daltons, as defined by our elders.”

  “And what are you doing, or threatening to do, that your family disapproves of?”

  I’m relieved that he gets it so quickly. “Multiple things. First, I became a kindergarten teacher.”

  “Not exactly a scandalous job path.”

  “It is when you’re a Dalton. The only acceptable careers are the ones that bring the family more money or power, and preferably both. I was expected to go to law school and follow my grandfather into politics.”

  He frowns, tapping the pen on his desk blotter. “What if you weren’t suited to that?”

  “Assessment tests showed that I had good verbal and reasoning skills. And I’m outgoing, generally good with people. My family decided early on that I was their best shot at further political success.”

  “Exactly how early are we talking?”

  “They had me tested in preschool.”

  “Holy fuck.” He tosses the pen down. “That’s outrageous; there’s no way they could be sure you’d like politics at that age.”

  “That’s where the family loyalty comes in. I’m expected to be dutiful, not happy.”

  Enzo sits back, shaking his head. “My family’s big on loyalty too, but not like that. We don’t dictate how people live their lives.”

  “Lucky you,” I say softly.

  “Yeah, I am. And I know it, believe me.” He leans forward again. “But I’m not seeing what any of this has to do with our personal security services.”

  “That’s the sec
ond thing. I’m also expected to marry well. A wealthy man with good political connections.”

  His eyes flash; a muscle tightens in his jaw. “Let me guess. They have someone all picked out for you.”

  “They do. I’m supposed to meet him next weekend, at a family gathering for my grandfather’s ninetieth birthday. I can’t escape the introduction, but I have no intention of marrying him.”

  “So you want a bodyguard for the weekend? Do you really think they’ll, what, try to abduct you and do a shotgun wedding?”

  “Oh, no, nothing so uncouth. And not a bodyguard, exactly. What I need is a fake fiancé.”

  There’s a beat before he gives me another slow smile. His expression makes things tighten low in my belly. “You think it’ll work?”

  “No. I think they’re going to disown me.”

  The smile vanishes. “What the fuck — you mean literally? Why?”

  “Because being engaged to anyone they don’t approve of constitutes rebellion. Plus, I’m supposed to start law school this fall, and instead I’m going to have to tell them that I’ve accepted a position teaching kindergarten.

  “As for literally … I don’t think they’d undertake proceedings to have me legally declared no longer a Dalton. But I’d be persona non grata, unwelcome at family gatherings. Which means I’ll be cut off from my siblings.”

  Enzo shakes his head again. “That’s fucked up, babe.” I get a strange tremor when I hear the word babe. “But why the fake fiancé? And why come to us? You could just ask a friend.”

  “I need backup. Someone to help me get through the weekend. I can’t ask any of my friends to deal with my family; there could be backlash. It has to be someone strong, someone they can’t intimidate.”

  “So you do need a bodyguard, in a way. A human buffer zone.”

  “Yes, exactly. I’ll need time to visit with my younger sisters.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. “To tell them that, even if the rest of the family rejects me, I love them and I’ll always be there for them.”

  “Your own version of family loyalty.”

  “Yes.”

  “Gotta respect that.” He gets up and comes around the desk to sit in the other visitor’s chair right next to me. This has a highly stimulating effect on my nervous system.

  He’s big, his body radiating heat, and he smells amazing, masculine and delicious. I want to lick him, touch him, rub up against him.

  Down, girl. This is a business arrangement; I’m hiring him to play a role. Well, two roles in one: attentive fiancé and human buffer zone. But that’s all.

  Never mind that my skin is prickling, that I’m uncomfortably aware of how sensitive my nipples suddenly feel, that I’m too warm and have the bizarre urge to tear off my clothes. Enzo Adamo is not taking me to bed.

  Not that I’d know what to do with him if he tried.

  “Has anyone else in your family been disowned?” he asks.

  It’s not hard to guess the direction of his thoughts. “You think I’m overreacting.”

  “I’m not dismissing your concerns. You know your family, and it sounds like they’re gonna lose their shit when you tell them you’re not playing by their rules anymore.”

  He leans close, and I have to fight the impulse to mirror his action and mash my lips against his oh-so-kissable mouth. I’m going to have fantasies later about that mouth. Fortunately, I still have a few scraps of sanity and self-respect left to keep me in check.

  A man like him — gorgeous and built and utterly sexy, with a tattoo on one of the muscular arms bulging out of his t-shirt sleeve — could have any woman he wants. There’s no way that a studious good girl, who’s never had so much as a parking ticket, could be his type. Let alone one who’s still a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-two.

  His mouth moves, and I tune my brain back in just in time to register his words. “It’s just that it’s human nature, when we’re worried about something, to imagine all the worst possible outcomes. And I wonder if maybe their response won’t be as dire as you fear.”

  “It’s possible. Anything’s possible, right? But not everything is equally likely. And my family is far more likely to — to lose their … stuff — than to be reasonable.”

  His mouth curls up; his eyes warm. “You don’t like to swear.”

  I feel ridiculous. Way to be all badass and grown up, Lucy. “Decorum is important in my family.”

  “It’s cute.” He’s still smiling. “Kind of adorable, actually.”

  My heart speeds up, even as my face gets hot. I want so badly for him to be flirting with me, but I know he’s not. Cute and adorable do not signal physical chemistry. He probably wants to pat me on the head and offer me a lollipop.

  “So you’ll take the job?” I need to get things back on track. Away from all the reasons why Enzo Adamo will never be interested in me.

  “Yeah, I’ll do it. We should probably spend the week practicing, so we’ll be convincing when we get there.”

  A whole week hanging with Mr. Hottie? Yes, please. “That’s a good idea. We can get to know each other, go on pretend dates, that sort of thing.”

  “You’ll need a ring.”

  2

  Because I Want To

  Lucy stares at her hands, as if willing a ring to materialize on her finger. “There are a few pieces that have been handed down to me; we can use one of those.”

  “But your family will recognize them. Wouldn’t a real fiancé give you his own engagement ring?”

  “Yes, but I can’t ask you to—”

  “Not a problem. Come on.” I stand and hold out a hand to her.

  She hesitates, and I say, “If we’re going to pull this off, we’d better be able to touch each other without looking uncomfortable.”

  Lucy bites her lip, stands up, and takes my hand. It sends a jolt right to my cock, feeling her soft skin against mine, and makes me imagine the silky smoothness of her breasts, her belly, her inner thighs. Fuck, I’m going to be sporting wood all week at this rate.

  Because Lucy Dalton is fucking hot. And I don’t think she has the first clue how sexy she is. Her simple outfit makes her look pretty and warm and sweet, like the kindergarten teacher she’s chosen to become; but it can’t hide the curves I want to sink my teeth into and ride all night.

  I wonder just how good a girl she is, with her not even wanting to swear. Has she been so much under her family’s thumb that she’s saved herself for her future husband? If she has, well, virgins aren’t normally my thing … but I’ll make an exception for Lucy.

  A big, throbbing, rock-hard exception.

  Some feral part of me loves the idea of being her first — and doesn’t want anyone else touching her. When she told me her family had a husband picked out, I wanted to smash his face in just on principle.

  Whoever the guy is, he’s not good enough for her.

  * * *

  When we were talking in my office, Lucy was resolute, determined, maybe a little sad. But now, holding my hand as we cross the parking lot, she’s nervous, not meeting my eyes. It makes me want to back her up against my car and kiss her until she’s moaning into my mouth, until her body softens under my hands, until I make her come riding my thigh.

  Fuck. I need to keep things professional, or I’ll scare her off. Beeping open the passenger door of the SUV, I help her up, resisting the urge to assist her with a hand on her luscious ass.

  “Where are we going?” she asks when I’m in the driver’s seat.

  “To get you a ring.”

  She frowns. “From whom?”

  Whom. Correct grammar and everything. It turns me on, how proper she is. I bet she could recite the times tables while she was riding my cock and it’d be hotter than dirty talk.

  Good thing it’s nighttime, and dark inside the car, or she’d be getting an eyeful right now of just how much I like that fantasy. I’m going to have zipper-shaped marks on my dick, it’s straining my jeans so hard.

  “One of my cousins has
a jewelry store. He’ll loan us something for the week.” I shift in my seat as I drive, trying to adjust myself without being obvious.

  “Oh. Are you sure? I don’t want to create any awkwardness in your family.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. My family’s a bit more … laid back than yours.”

  She lets out a little laugh. “That’s not exactly difficult. But if something happened to the ring—”

  “Lucy.” I take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. I promise.”

  I don’t want to let go of her hand, but I do. I’m a professional, even if Lucy Dalton makes me want to throw every rule out the window, take this good girl home, and show her just how fun it is to be bad.

  We get lucky with the parking when someone pulls away from the curb just as we’re approaching. I parallel park the SUV and go around to help Lucy out. She could probably climb down by herself, but it’s a good excuse for more physical contact.

  She needs to be used to me touching her by the time we get to her family gathering — not that I’m kidding myself that it’s all about the assignment. I’ve wanted my hands all over her since the second I saw her. By the time this week is over, I intend to have done such a good job of being her fake boyfriend that she’ll agree to keep seeing me for real.

  Instead of helping her climb down, I put both hands on her waist and lift her out. Once she’s on the sidewalk, I don’t let go. My hands flex a little, wanting to move lower, to curl around her ass and pull her against me.

  Behind me, people are streaming along the sidewalk in both directions, enjoying the warmth of early summer. Lucy’s standing with her hands on my shoulders, where she put them when I lifted her down, looking uncertain. “Should we, um, go inside?” she says.