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Adonis “The Guardian” Cardelo

T he mansion’s marble floors echoed my footsteps. Each click of my nine-hundred-dollar shoes was another nail in the coffin of my freedom. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I instantly felt the darkness at my back like a shadow. I fished it out long enough to jab the red ignore button and shove it back down.

Fuck. How did I end up here again?

My jaw clenched as I approached the study door. The old man was waiting, ready to cash in on a debt I could never repay. A life for a life. Mine for his son’s—my best friend. Payment for everything that happened years ago. The last time I stepped foot inside the Hawthorne mansion.

I knocked twice, short and sharp.

“Enter,” he commanded, his gravelly voice chilling my spine.

I forced my way into the dimly lit room, thick with cigar smoke and regret. Don Hawthorne sat behind his massive desk with a tumbler of amber-colored whiskey in his gnarled left hand that was missing its middle finger. It was a constant reminder of his dangerous life as a mafia boss.

He was in his mid-fifties but still wielded the kind of presence that commanded the respect of everyone in the room as if he were still a young boss. His skin was a rich, deep chocolate brown, and his hair, though graying at the temples, was still dark, thick, and cut into a fade. The salt-and-pepper goatee that encased his lips was neatly trimmed. His posture was aligned and assertive, giving off an air of dominance alongside the tailored suit on his body and the gold watch on his left wrist.

His chocolate brown eyes were cold and calculating. He scanned his surroundings with sharp awareness before boring into me.

“Adonis. You’re late.”

“Traffic, sir,” I lied. “Won’t happen again.”

He grunted, waving me into a chair. I perched on the edge, muscles coiled tight.

“The Toussaint’s are making moves,” he growled. “I’m going away on business. I’ll be flying back and forth between New York and Miami for the next month or two until the deal is sealed. I need eyes on Xenobia at all times. With Santo gone, you’re the only one I trust.”

My stomach clenched at her name. Xenobia. Damn, how long had it been? Six years and three months. Over two thousand days. I knew precisely how fuckin’ long.

“With all due respect, sir, I know we have an arrangement, but there are other men—”

“I said you!” he hollered as his fist slammed the desk. “You owe me, boy. Or have you forgotten?”

The scar on my jaw throbbed. How could I forget? The words that followed froze my blood.

“You can have your old room back across the hall from Xenobia’s. She needs a guard dog. You’ll be her shadow, day and night.”

Shit. Day and night? With her? My body betrayed me, blood racing to my dick. I shifted quickly, praying to God he didn’t notice.

“Yes, sir,” I gritted out.

A knock at the door saved me from further humiliation. It creaked open, and there she was.

Xenobia.

My breath caught in my throat. She was even more beautiful than I remembered, all curves and hellfire. Her brown eyes flashed as they landed on me, full lips curling into a sneer. Her long, wavy brown hair cascaded down her back like a delicate waterfall. Her sandy brown skin was as smooth as butter, and her eyes were a deep, passionate brown that seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words she wanted to say to me. Despite her natural beauty, there were visible scars on her cheek and collarbone, remnants of a past attack that she carried as a silent reminder of all that we’d lost that day.

She inched closer, moving with a level of poise and confidence that contradicted her young age. Her posture remained upright and assertive.

“What’s he doing here?” she snapped.

I bit back a groan. This is gonna be hell.

As the only daughter of a well-known mafia boss, she exuded the same air of authority as her father. The only difference was that I knew there was a softness behind her fiery eyes and tough exterior. Unsolicited memories flooded my mind: Xenobia and me as kids, chasing each other through these same halls, her laughter echoing off the marble floors, and how she looked at me like I was her whole world.

Now, her eyes were cold, distant. What happened to us?

My mind raced back to the beginning of it all. Our mothers had been childhood best friends. When she became pregnant with me, she fled New York. We lived in Houston until I turned twelve, and she sent me to New York to live with Xenobia’s family for my safety. When we pulled up to the Hawthorne gates, she told me she was doing it for my safety and that they would watch over me. Three months later, she was murdered by a mafia hitman in the two-bedroom apartment she’d raised me in.

For nine years, I was raised alongside Xenobia’s older brother, Santo, who was the same age as me. We were like brothers. Xenobia was three years younger than us and was the annoying kid who always wanted to tag along, and we’d have to ditch her. It wasn’t until we got older that I started to look at her differently. It was the summer she turned eighteen, to be exact. She gave herself to me, and then two nights later, our worlds cracked in half.

It was Santo’s college graduation party. We were all celebrating when the Toussaint family ambushed us. I could still hear the words that made my spine chill when they fell off Cecil Toussaint’s lips: You know why I’m here. Where the fuck is my son? He wanted me—his son. Cecil Toussaint was my father.

That night, my father’s men killed Xenobia’s mother for being my mother’s best friend and taking me in for so many years.

They killed Santo while trying to protect his sister.

Once he was gone, they came for Xenobia next.

My Nobi.

I fought off men by the dozen trying to get to them all. I was able to kill Xenobia’s attacker before being captured and taken by the other half of my bloodline I never knew existed.

Fast-forward six years, and I still refused to go by anything other than my mother’s last name, which was given to me at birth. I would never claim the Toussaint bloodline. I’d been working under my father’s regime and pretending to be brainwashed, all along being the mole in my father’s operation by keeping in secret contact with Xenobia’s father. I was the one who warned him that the Toussaint’s were planning to attack and kill his daughter. Somehow, my father had gotten wind of Don’s business arrangements and planned to take out his last living heir before moving in on the Hawthorne family’s territory. There was no way I could let that happen. I was more loyal to Xenobia’s family than my own.

My father had been pressing me to oversee a specific part of our territory that would put me close to the Hawthorne mansion. I’d refused thus far, but once I discovered his plan to move in on Xenobia and her family’s territory, I told him I wanted the job. I knew my father would approve because it was what he’d always wanted. All the while, I planned to protect Xenobia, get from underneath my father’s cruel thumb, and be with the family I knew and loved. It was the perfect cover. I knew the move could cost me my life, but I owed it to my mother, my best friend, and the girl I’d secretly given my heart away to all those years ago. Being with her meant committing the ultimate treason, but the guilt of being unable to protect her had been eating away at me for far too long.

Don’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Out. Both of you. Adonis, get to work.”

I stood tall, forcing myself not to look her way as we exited. The study door clicked shut behind us, and I exhaled slowly. Time to focus.

I moved through the mansion like a ghost, cataloging every weak point. French doors in the sunroom—too easy to breach. I’d need to upgrade the locks, cut back the trees on the grounds, and add sensors. The back staircase was a security nightmare. We’d need cameras there, pronto.

My mind raced, planning and plotting. Doing so was easier than thinking about her. About how close she was now, how I could almost feel the heat of her body as we walked the silent corridors. She gave me a dirty look and peeled off, moving down a hallway and out of sight.

I paused at a window, staring out at the sprawling grounds. My reflection stared back, bearded jaw clenched tight. I had to keep it together. For her safety. For my sanity. But how the fuck was I supposed to do that? To be near her every day, to protect her, when all I wanted was to—

Fuck. No. I can’t go there. Xenobia Hawthorne was off-limits—always had been, always would be.

I squared my shoulders and moved on. I had a job to do, feelings be damned. Xenobia might hate me now, but I’d keep her safe. I’d given myself no other fuckin’ choice.

I headed down the main hallway, mind still racing with security plans, when she ambushed me. Xenobia stepped out from a doorway, blocking my path. My breath caught in my throat.

Fuck, she was gorgeous. And furious.

She wore a white, long-sleeved silk blouse that puffed at the shoulders. Its subtle shimmer and ruffled neckline complemented the high-waisted black skirt that stopped above her knee. It was perfectly tailored, hugging her curves and drawing attention to her slender waist. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her lean shoulders, partly covering the scars on her collarbone.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” she spat, hazelnut brown orbs blazing.

I froze, drinking her in. The scar on her cheek was stark in the dim light, a jagged reminder of how I’d failed her. Her chest heaved with anger, and I forced my gaze back to her face.

“Answer me, Adonis,” she demanded. “Why are you suddenly playing bodyguard after six years?”

I swallowed hard. “Your father asked me to ensure your safety. That’s all.”

She hissed out a bitter laugh that cut me to the bone. “Right. And you just couldn’t say no to Daddy dearest, could you?”

“Nobi—” I started, but she cut me off.

“Save it. I don’t need your protection, and I don’t need you.” Her words were venomous, but I saw the hurt behind them.

I stepped closer, voice low. “This isn’t up for debate. I’m here to keep you safe, whether you like it or not.”

“And if I refuse?” she challenged, chin tilted upward in defiance.

God, I wanted to kiss that defiance off her gorgeous brown face. I wanted to push her against the wall and show her exactly how much I cared about her safety. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

Instead, I met her glare with a steely expression.

“You don’t have a choice in this, Nobi. I’m not going anywhere,” I confirmed before walking away.

“Fuck you, Adonis. We aren’t done here.”

I halted my step. “Yes, Xenobia. We are. Go do something with yourself, and stay out of my way. I have shit to do.”

I kept walking that time, forcing my mind back to the task at hand. There was no way I could let her see how she affected me. How every glance, every word, set my blood on fire.

“Garcia,” I barked into my comm. “Status on the new cameras?”

“Almost done, boss,” he answered through a crackled reply. “Just finishing up in the east wing.”

I tilted my chin in a nod, although he couldn’t see me. “Good. I want eyes on every entrance and exit. I don’t want any blind spots.”

Fire coursed through my legs as I strode through the mansion and away from her, continuing to catalog every weak point. The place was a fortress with floor-to-ceiling windows, brick masonry, and handcrafted architecture, but even fortresses had cracks. And I’d be damned if I let anyone slip through on my watch. But as I worked, thoughts of Xenobia kept creeping in—the way her eyes flashed with flames when she was angry or how her lips curved when she used to smile at me before everything went to shit.

“Focus, mothafucka,” I muttered, shaking my head.

I couldn’t afford to get distracted. Not when her life was on the line. Not when every shadow could hide a threat or expose my secret. But, fuck. It was hard to keep my head straight with her so close.

As I turned a corner, my eyes caught her through an open door. She was curled up in a window seat, reading a book, but I could see the tension in her face. For a moment, she looked like the girl I used to know before the scars and the bitterness.

My chest ached. I wanted to go to her, to bridge the invisible gap between us. But my legs wouldn’t move. I was there to protect her, nothing more. No matter how much I longed for something I knew I could never have.

And yet, I stood there like a simp, drinking her in. The sunlight caught her long, wavy hair, showing the strong dark brown luster. Her fingers absently traced the jagged, raised scar on her cheek, and I felt a surge of rage at the mothafuckas who’d hurt her.

Suddenly, I was thrown back to that carefree summer day years ago, celebrating Santo’s college graduation. He, Nobi, and I were lounging by the pool, laughing and splashing. Xenobia’s brown eyes sparkled as she dunked me, her touch electric on my skin. I’d known then, with a gut-wrenching certainty, that I was in love with her. And that I could never tell a soul.

“Fuck,” I whispered, dragging myself back to the present.

My fists were clenched so tight my knuckles ached. I forced myself to breathe, to push down the memories and the want that threatened to choke me. Xenobia must’ve sensed my presence. She looked up, her eyes locking with mine. For a split second, I saw a flicker of the old warmth. Then her icy walls slammed back into place, her gaze turning to frost.

“What the hell do you want?” she snapped.

I swallowed hard. “Just checking the perimeter. Don’t mind me.”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to her book. But I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers trembled slightly as she turned to the next page. I wanted to go to her, to pull her into my arms and promise that nothing would ever hurt her again. But I couldn’t. I was her brother’s best friend and her bodyguard. Nothing more.

So I did the only thing a real nigga could do in my situation. I walked away, burying my heart deeper with every step. I forced myself to focus on the mission, methodically checking each window and door. The mansion’s shadows seemed to deepen as I moved, every creak and groan setting my nerves on edge. The place had always given me the creeps, but now it felt like a tomb.

As I rounded a corner, I nearly collided with Xenobia. She stumbled back, her hand flying to her throat in shock. We stared at each other for a moment, the air crackling with unspoken words.

“Jesus, Adonis,” she hissed. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? As big as this damn house is, I still can’t manage to get the fuck away from you, can I?”

I couldn’t help but notice how close we were, her scent washing over me. Fuck, she still uses that same vanilla and peach nectar-scented perfume.

“Sorry,” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Xenobia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you really doing here, Donny? Playing the dutiful guard dog for Daddy? You should’ve just stayed away. I don’t fucking want you here.”

Her words stung, but I kept my face neutral. “Just doing my job. Somebody’s gotta keep you safe while he’s away on business.”

She laughed. It was a sharp, bitter sound that sliced through me. “Safe? In this house? That’s rich. I have bodyguards out the ass. I don’t need another one, especially not you.”

I stepped closer, unable to help myself. “Xenobia, I—”

“Don’t,” she cut me off, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t pretend you care when we both know you don’t.”

My heart pounded as I stared into her eyes, seeing the hurt and anger swirling there. I wanted to tell her everything. But I couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever.

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my cool. “Look, I get it. You’re pissed. But this ain’t about what you want or what I want. It’s about keeping you alive. I tried to say no, Nobi, but he didn’t give me a fuckin’ choice.”

Xenobia scoffed, stepping backward. “Again, I can take care of myself,” she spat.

“Yeah? Like you did the last time?” The words were out before I could stop them.

Her expression went blank and then flushed with anger. “Fuck you, Adonis.”

I stepped closer, backing her against the wall. My voice dropped low, intense. “Listen to me, Xenobia. I don’t give a fuck if you hate me. But I will keep you safe, even if I have to chain you to the goddamn bed and lock you inside your room to do it.”

Her breath hitched, and I saw something flicker in her eyes for a second. Something that wasn’t anger. “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered.

I leaned in, my lips nearly brushing her ear. “Try me, Nobi.”

With that, I turned and strode away, my heart pounding. I didn’t look back, but I felt her eyes burning into my spine.

Later, alone in my room, I paced like a caged animal. The conversation with Xenobia played on repeat in my head. What the fuck was I doing? I should’ve never picked up her father’s call. Three run-ins with her already. How the fuck was I going to keep her safe when all she was hell-bent on doing was pissing me off?

I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but wide awake too. But when I closed my eyes, I could only see her face. The way she’d looked at me—the sweet scent of her butterscotch skin. The past and present swirled together, memories I thought I’d buried clawing their way to the surface. Xenobia, laughing as we raced through the garden as kids. Xenobia, screaming and crying the night her mother and brother died. Xenobia, covered in her family’s crimson blood. My blood-stained hands from stabbing her attacker to death.

But I’d been too late. She’d almost died that night.

I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands against my tired eyes. It was gonna be a long fucking night. As I lay there, trying to shake off the ghosts of the past, my phone buzzed—a text from Luca, my guy on the inside of my father’s operation. He was the only one who knew I was on the Hawthorne detail. I’d paid him handsomely to keep me in the loop on my father’s moves while I was away.

Luca: Movement in the ranks, timeline moved up. Something big brewing. Watch your six.

Fuck. Just what we needed.

I sat up, running a hand over my curls. My father’s men were like sharks, constantly circling, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike. And now, with Xenobia vulnerable and the old man distracted with a new business venture, it was the perfect fuckin’ storm.

I got up and moved to the window, peering into the darkness. The estate grounds stretched out before me, shadows upon shadows. Somewhere beyond the walls and the guards, danger crept in closer.

My jaw clenched. I’d die before I let anything happen to her. The Hawthorne family—as fucked up as it was—was all I had left in the world. But as I stood here, the weight of it all pressing down on me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were standing on the edge of a cliff. And the Toussaints? They were just waiting for the right moment to give us a big ass push.

I turned away from the window, my mind already racing through contingencies. Sleep could wait. I had work to do. Because in this world, in this life? The moment you let your guard down would be the moment you lost everything.

And I wasn’t about to let that happen. Not on my watch.