The Mafia Daddy's Pretty Little Bodyguard
(2026)(Book 47 in the Mafia Daddies Ruthless Possession series)
A novel by Jess Winters
They sent a photo of me and him at 1:17 a.m. — us under my nightlight, Poppy tucked to my shoulder, and Darren threatening to sell that picture to whoever wanted to ruin me.
Alessio Marino: thirty-eight, palazzo owner, storm‑gray eyes that read me like a blueprint. He smells like cedar and old leather. He doesn't flirt. He claims. He steadies. He slides a wool coat over my shoulders and a sheriff‑star into my life and then refuses to let anyone use my shame as leverage.
He put a crate in my lobby and a playlist in my pocket. He braided my hair and made cocoa when I couldn't breathe. He made a chart with stickers and called it protection. Rocco made threats quiet. Darren tried to leverage a picture. Someone else started keeping records. I woke to messages and a threat and his hand on the small of my back like an anchor.
Now I have a choice: let him drag the fight into the light and risk being owned by the very man protecting me, or hide and watch my career — and myself — quietly erode.
He says he'll keep me. He says forever. But can I trust a promise when a camera already holds the proof of us?
Alessio Marino: thirty-eight, palazzo owner, storm‑gray eyes that read me like a blueprint. He smells like cedar and old leather. He doesn't flirt. He claims. He steadies. He slides a wool coat over my shoulders and a sheriff‑star into my life and then refuses to let anyone use my shame as leverage.
He put a crate in my lobby and a playlist in my pocket. He braided my hair and made cocoa when I couldn't breathe. He made a chart with stickers and called it protection. Rocco made threats quiet. Darren tried to leverage a picture. Someone else started keeping records. I woke to messages and a threat and his hand on the small of my back like an anchor.
Now I have a choice: let him drag the fight into the light and risk being owned by the very man protecting me, or hide and watch my career — and myself — quietly erode.
He says he'll keep me. He says forever. But can I trust a promise when a camera already holds the proof of us?