Guarding The Bratty Mafia Heiress

COOPER

"I don't need a babysitter. I'm twenty‑two, okay?" I watch the heiress of the Giordano clan throw a tantrum like a fcking child.

Her father slams his fist on the table. "You were nearly shot, Vittoria! Your recklessness makes you forget who you are and how many enemies surround us."

She throws her hands up, rising from her seat. "I went out for a drink with my friends."

"You snuck out without Dante and wandered into rival territory," her father fires back, veins bulging on his forehead. "Do you understand how stupid that was?"

"First you agreed to marry me off to The Calafioris without my consent, and now this?" Vittoria's voice rises. "You're invading my privacy over some drunk shooter?"

"The autopsy confirms a long range 7.62×51mm NATO shot. Whoever pulled that trigger is a sniper," I say, hoping to inject some sense into this brat. The fact the shooter missed their intended target is a goddamn miracle.

Vittoria snaps her head toward me, lips curling. "Who asked you to talk? You aren't even hired, so shut the fck up."

Her father growls, "Vittoria, you will not speak to him that way."

She throws her long brunette hair over her shoulder. "You keep making decisions for me without thinking, and you expect me to be respectful?"

If this wasn't a high paying gig, I would spank this annoying btch. Deep breath, Cooper. You have handled worse than some mafia princess with a nasty attitude.

Vittoria turns to her mother. "Mamma, tell them you aren't supporting this insanity. I mean, I have the Versace after party next week."

"Your life is in danger, and you're worried about parties?" I ask the entitled brat, who glares daggers at me.

Her mother leans forward, worry clouding her eyes. "We hired Cooper yesterday. This is only an introduction. Vittoria, you are the heiress of our family, feared and hated by many. We wouldn't ship you off if the danger weren't real." Her voice cracks. "Amore mio, trust me."

Vittoria's shoulders drop. "Fine. But Texas?" She crosses her arms. "You couldn't pick somewhere less shitty?" she says, sitting back down.

"Texas is perfect. Unlike New York or Chicago, it's remote and free from mafia influence. We can stay hidden until the hitman is neutralized," I respond, desperate to wrap up this pathetic display of toddler level sulking.

She taps the table in frustration. "Why this American? Why not one of our enforcers?" She waves at me dismissively. "Pick someone else, Mamma. I don't like him." The feeling is, mutual btch.

Her mother sighs, squeezing her hand. "Cooper has protected some of the most important people. I chose him because he is strong enough to handle you, la figlia del boss."

"When do I leave, Mamma?"

"In the morning, amore mio."

"Tomorrow?" she gasps. "Mamma, no. I need time to process this nightmare."

Her father slides a folder across the table. "In America, you will be Arianna De Luca. You and Cooper will pose as co‑owners of a ranch you as the investor with family money, him as the ranch hand managing operations."

Vittoria blinks, stunned into silence for the first time since I walked in. "Wait, a ranch?" Her eyes widen as she flips through the folder. "Papà, you know I hate animals."

"You will have to tolerate them," her father says. "Stay inside if you must, but you will obey Cooper's every instruction."

She flings the folder away. "What am I, in kindergarten?"

Her mother cups her cheek. "No, amore. Do it because of me, not to please him."

Vittoria pulls away sharply. "And what if he tries to rape me?" Her voice drips with sarcasm. "Should I still obey him then?" Jesus Christ, this girl has issues.

Her father doesn't blink. "Mr. Cooper is too professional for that. But if he tries, he will have to watch his back."

I rub my temples. "For the record," I say flatly, "I'm gay. Even if I wasn't, you're not my type."

"Asshole," she mutters just loud enough for me to hear. Vittoria's throat works like she might cry, but she swallows it down with anger. "This is so messed up!" she screams before storming out, heels cracking across the floor.

"Vittoria!" her mother calls out before the door slams shut. Yep. This is going to be the longest gig ever.

Her mother's voice softens as she faces me. "I sincerely apologize for her behavior. I knew she wouldn't take it well, but not this badly. Whoever is coming for us wants war, Cooper, and they want to destroy us by killing Vittoria. Promise me you will keep her alive."

A part of me wants to tell her that isn't how this job works. But the fear in her eyes the kind that comes from knowing what is at stake in a world built on blood and power stops me.

"You have my word," I say. "I will keep her safe." I walk out of the office.

"Cooper," Mr. Giordano calls behind me. I stop for him to catch up.

"The fragile peace we have maintained with the Calafiori will continue depending on how well you do your job," he says, running his fingers through grey streaked hair.

I crease my forehead. "Someone wants to break the truce?"

"Precisely, by making us lose trust in the rival factions."

"So this was purely political."

"Yes, the sniper is outside our usual networks," he says slowly. "Someone with military experience, to make it look like an accident to the public while sending a clear message within the Mafia circle."

Silence falls between us, heavy with implication. I can feel the weight of the family name pressing down, the unspoken truth that failure isn't an option.

I exhale slowly. "I understand what is expected of me."

"Good. Because if this goes south, Cooper everything we have built for decades dies with her." He says with an icy tone.

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.