Donnie

“What is he doing here?” I pointed at the fighter man, my voice shrill.
“Donatella,” My father smiled, “He's a guest. Do you know him?”
I swallowed audibly. If I admitted to knowing the fighter, my father would want to know how. He'd then have my head when he realized I had been dancing in a bar. So, I looked at the fighter, who had an arrogant smirk on his face and said, “No.”
At the same time, the fighter said, “Yes.”
My father frowned, “I'm confused. Do you two know each other or not?”
The fighter stroked his chin, “I seem to remember seeing your daughter somewhere.”
I glared at the man. Was he trying to get me in trouble with my father? What a sadist. I knew I was right to hate him. There was nothing loveable about him, except his chiselled jawline, his warm eyes and his muscled body.
Okay, okay, I admitted to myself, he was a fine specimen of a man. But underneath the exterior, he was a horrible person.
“You must have mistaken me for someone,” I explained, feigning politeness.
The man only smiled wider, “I don't think so. No one else looks . . . quite like you.”
The huge weasel! I cursed him mentally. He was toying with me right before my father.
“Umm . . . I'm certain it wasn't me you met,” I walked over to my father and joined him on the couch, tucking my arm in his.
When I looked at the fighter, he cocked an eyebrow to say he was onto me. I expected him to continue arguing. Instead, he exhaled, “I'm sorry, you're right. It wasn't you I met.”
I sighed with relief but he was not quite through, “I don't know why I got you mixed up with her. You're obviously a well-bred gentle lady, while she was rude and uncouth!”
I gritted my teeth and willed myself to remain silent when every cell in my body wanted to yell retorts to his underhanded insults.
He's not worth it, I consoled myself. I rested my head on my father's shoulder, “Daddy, what business do you have with him?”
My father patted my head, “Donatella, meet Jack, your new bodyguard.”
My father's introduction hit me like a bullet. What the hell? This annoying man was to be my bodyguard?
This time around, I couldn't control my outburst, “No! Father, he can't be my bodyguard!”
I looked at Jack, and saw displeasure written all over his face.
“Sir, I think I agree with your daughter. I can't be her bodyguard,” Jack said a scant moment later.
My father glanced at me, then at Jack, and back to me, “What in the world? Jack, you signed a contract! You were fine with the job a few minutes ago. Why the change of mind?”
Jack stood up and straightened his suit. It looked a little too worn, but it still accentuated his broad shoulders and thick legs.
Why does he have to look this good? I thought grudgingly, why isn't he some ugly-looking sop?
“Truthfully, Sir,” Jack glared at me, “I don't think I can work with your daughter.”
“What makes you say that?” My father looked like genuinely wanted Jack as my bodyguard, which was so unlike him. If someone rejected my father's offer, he immediately moved on. He didn't believe in changing people's minds.
“Your daughter seems like quite the spoilt little diva, and I don't think we'll work well together,” Jack explained with a shrug.
“You frog!” I raged, “You're calling me a diva?! You must be crazy!”
“Exactly my point, Mr Gambino,” Jack gestured to me. I gritted my teeth, Jack was making me out to be a spoilt shrew who did not take criticism well. Maybe I was, but did he have to point it out?
I shook my head and pasted a fake grin on my face, “You know what? You're absolutely right. I don't think we'll work well together. You can leave now.”
“Be quiet, Donatella!” My father thundered and said to Jack in a more soothing voice, “Jack, don't leave. I'm willing to pay you twice the amount we agreed on in the first place.”
I thought I'd heard wrong, but when I saw Jack considering my father's offer, I cursed under my breath. Why was my father hell-bent on Jack being my bodyguard? Was the man that good?
“Daddy, I need to talk to you,” I said in an urgent voice.
My father looked at me in an irritated manner, “What is it?”
“Let's go to the kitchen,” I pleaded with him.
He regarded me suspiciously before nodding slowly. As we stood to leave the sitting room, he spoke to Jack, “Think about my offer, Jack. When I'm through with her, I'll want to hear your answer.”

*

My kitchen was the smallest room in my bungalow, but it was still pretty spacious. I didn't spend much time in the kitchen, I had a chef who cooked and delivered food to me, and sometimes, Lisa cooked for me.
Lisa had been the one to decorate the kitchen, and looking at the exquisitely furnished island, and the many professional catering utensils that were everywhere, it was evident she had done a great job.
“Donatella, why did you call me out?” My father asked hurriedly, “It's rude to abandon a guest.”
I was tired of my father thinking Jack was the best thing since sliced bread, “Dad, we didn't abandon him, and Jack is no guest.”
My father remained silent.
“Daddy, I don't want Jack as my bodyguard. Please, let him go. I'll be good, I'll be careful.” I begged.
My father refused, “You can't live without some sort of protection, Donatella.”
“Fine,” I added, “Bring back my old bodyguard, or bring another person. Anybody but that Jack.”
My father tutted, “I'm sorry, Donatella. Jack is the most qualified man for the job, so he'll get it. I'm not going to compromise when it comes to your safety.”
My father had an intractable look on his face, and whe never he got that look, it meant there was no way to change his mind.
With a small smile, my father stood and walked back to the sitting room. I followed him slowly, my heart sinking with each step.
When I entered the room, I heard Jack say, “Mr Gambino, I accept the job.”
As the two men shook hands, it occurred to me that I was stuck with the condescending, annoying, and opinionated man.
“Well, well,” I mused beneath my breath, “I'll have to make him regret his decision.”