more, like she didn’t want to go even knowing what at least one of these assholes had in mind for her. Alex wondered what was going through her mind—then he saw that it wasn’t the guys she was focusing on. It was the girls.
Thus he wasn’t surprised when she said, “Do you think they’re okay?”
Alex didn’t know how to answer. No, he didn’t. This place was like a trap for all these girls who were too naïve and entitled to ever think they were in danger before it was too late. The odds were decent that one or more of these chicks would get dosed and treated the way Lia would have been if he hadn’t been here.
But it wasn’t his job to protect them. Lia Pagano was his only concern, and he’d expose her, and himself, to do more than that. He hoped whatever Tony had planned for Biff would result in a move on the whole frat.
“They’re fine,” he said and tugged on her arm. “I got the bad guy.”
She relented and let him lead her out of the house, into the Providence night.
Alex was her bodyguard because a Mafia civil war was brewing and there were men who might hurt Don Pagano’s family to get to him. Dangerous men capable of extreme cruelty and brutality.
That was the danger he’d been tasked to protect her from.
But it was the garden-variety rich boys at her Ivy League college who were proving to be the real threat.
~oOo~
Alex’s primary responsibility was to stay on Lia when she was up and moving around. For the most part, it was him who lurked, who hung out nearby, close enough to have been introduced to the few people in her circle. Bluto spelled him when he had time off, but Alex was point. He was the right age and had the right look for a college student, so he didn’t stir up undue notice on campus.
Once Lia was buttoned up in her little studio apartment, then she was guarded by a team on the street outside—and all the tech her father had insisted be installed in her place. That girl got no kind of privacy.
Alex got her home, walked her up to the top floor of this house converted into studio apartments for wealthy undergrads, and opened her door. He stepped in first and did a quick check; the place was small enough that all it took was a glance around to know she was clear. He coded the alarm and ushered her into her own apartment.
It was a cute little place, fixed up to match Lia’s personality. A nice bed with fluffy white linens; a pretty little sitting area with a sofa, a low table stacked with books; a wicker chair; a tiny kitchenette with a little soda-shop style table and two chairs. A few patchwork rugs were tossed over the hardwood floor with studied haphazardness. The pale purple walls were decorated with posters and programs from Broadway plays and musicals—and photos from the plays and musicals she’d been in in high school.
Lia wanted to be an actress. So far, she hadn’t gotten on stage at Brown, except as someone milling around in the background, but she was taking all the classes and doing all the things. Alex spent a lot of time lurking around the theater and arts department—and the theater itself.
There, he’d heard a few assholes say some unkind shit to her—including the asshole professor who’d told her she’d never get anywhere until she lost twenty pounds.
Hence the crazy diet. She’d lost the twenty pounds over the course of a single summer—and more, by the look of her these days.
“Okay, you’re good,” he said and headed to the door. “I’ll be back in the morning. You gonna want to run?” She’d taken up running and was doing about 5K four or so times a week. So, therefore, was Alex.
Staring at the bookcase near the door, Lia sighed. Alex got the sense she’d zoned out.
“Lia?”
She blinked and shifted her attention to him. “Sorry. I’m just tired. Of basically everything.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
A little shudder went through her, but then she smiled. For an actress, it was a pretty crappy attempt. “Nothing. It means nothing. I just need to get some sleep, I think. Thanks for tonight. I guess you saved me from a pretty terrible thing.”
“That’s why I’m here. Nine tomorrow morning for a run, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she muttered, distracted again. “G’night.”
“’Night, Lee.” He had a bizarre urge to lean down