For Angelo(23)

“Angelo,” she protested. “It’s not necessary—”

But he was already nodding decisively. “Yes, I think it is better.”

And before she knew it, he was gone, and the bodyguards stationed outside were inside the dining room with her.

Unsure of the proper etiquette for dealing with personal security, she said awkwardly, “Hello.”

The two men appeared surprised.

“Good evening, signorina,” the shorter, burly guard said, and his older, grey-haired partner echoed his greeting.

And that was that.

One minute turned into two, and Lane started feeling suffocated again.

In the past two years, therapy and being part of the Mortimer family had helped her come a long way in terms of handling a trauma. She had learned to be more strategic and practical, and by mentally preparing herself for every wealthy-looking place she needed to visit, Lane had been able to control her body’s instinctive reaction.

Before her enrolment in CU, Lane had watched countless videos of the university on YouTube and spent hours memorizing its layout. Knowing where the exits helped calm her down, and when classes finally started, Lane’s efforts had paid off. She had only broken down at the end of the day. It was a major feat, considering she used to have panic attacks at the mere sight of anyone carrying a Hermes bag.

Ten minutes passed and there were still no signs of Angelo coming back anytime soon.

It’s okay, Lane told herself determinedly even as tension made her feel like a ticking bomb. She tried to relax, but more and more the dining room’s tastefully lavish décor felt like it was grinning hungrily at her, turning into an inanimate monster that was just waiting, waiting for its chance—

She bolted out of her seat and ran for the doors, throwing them open. She was unaware that the guards had also burst into action the first second she moved.

“Signorina!”

She instinctively looked over her shoulder—

Oh my God, they had their guns out!

Lane froze and threw her hands up.

They reached her side in the next second.

“What’s wrong, signorina,” the shorter one demanded.

“Is Signor Valencia under threat?” the older one asked.

It took Lane more than a few moments to realize that they weren’t about to shoot her. When panic allowed her to brain to start functioning again, she cringed in horrified realization and stammered, “No, I’m sorry, it’s nothing like that.”

Their arms slowly lowered.

Unable to fault them for still looking suspicious, she apologized again, “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to startle you.” She cleared her throat. “I had a…panic attack.”

The two gazed at her like she was mental.

Well, she probably was, in their eyes.

She said, “Never mind.” Here in the hallway, it was less…opulent, and her body started to relax, her breath gradually returning to normal. “Can I, umm, just stay here for a sec?”

They nodded, still gazing at her like she was a living oddity.

“You don’t need to keep me company.”

“We will stay here if you please, signorina. It is our duty,” the older one said simply.

Right.

In that case—

She stuck her hand out. “I’m, umm, Lane Petersen, by the way.” While she did feel awkward because of her panic attack, Lane wasn’t at all nervous around both men. Bodyguards were the good guys, after all. Bodyguards knew where all the exits were, and more importantly, they weren’t filthy rich.

The shorter guard was the first to answer, saying, “It is nice to meet you, signorina. I am Fico.”

“And I am Umberto,” the older one said.

But both didn’t make any move to shake her hand, forcing to Lane to hide her ignored hand in her pocket. I hope they don’t think I was being aggressive, she thought worriedly. It did not occur to Lane at all that both Fico and Umberto considered a handshake with her as something above their station.

Silence again.

Determined to befriend them, she asked, “So…have you guys been working for Angelo long?”

The guards exchanged looks, thinking that this was the first woman their employer dated who hadn’t treated them like they were invisible.

“I’ve been with the boss for four years, signorina,” Fico offered.

“Five for me,” Umberto said.

“And how is it, working for him?” she asked curiously. “Because I was his student once last semester, and as a professor, he was very much easygoing.” She thought of how all the girls in her class had fallen for him, and she added glumly, “Too charming for his own good, too.”

Fico and Umberto struggled to hide their grins. They were used to the boss’ dates being jealous and possessive and had considered it unbecoming. But somehow, this little one was different.

“He is the same as a boss,” Fico said. “But he is also a perfectionist, signorina. He expects us to show the same dedication he does to his own work.”

“Can you tell me stories about him?” she asked eagerly.

“What kind of stories?”

“Any. Like, what does he do when you have to drive him and he’s all alone in the backseat?”

“Well…”