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.