Chapter 18
Ididn’t see him the rest of the day.
I’ve been avoiding him. I declared I wanted to stay at home so I wouldn’t have to face him again.
More than half of the day has already passed, and I’ve done nothing but lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling again. Thinking. I didn’t want to work out, swim, not even draw.
Well, I haven’t drawn in a while, and I’m afraid I’ve lost my passion for it, but it’s something that always stays with me. Hell, I didn’t even listen to P!nk.
I can’t explain the emotions he evokes in me. I can’t even understand them, and that drives me crazier.
I don’t know who he is—what he is—but what scares me the most is that I don’t know who I am around him.
I don’t know if his interest should flatter me or terrify me.
I don’t know if his interest is because he’s getting paid to show it or because he really wants to protect me—my name, my body, my sanity.
Little does he know I’ve already lost my sanity around him.
One thing I know for sure. He’s nothing like anyone else out there.
He’s a puzzle I’m both terrified and desperate to solve.
Every piece of him feels dangerous, and yet, I can’t stay away.
But under his touch, I’m defenseless. Vulnerable and exposed.
He could ruin me, and I think a part of me wants him to.
I’ve stepped onto a path I can’t walk back from. There’s something unspoken between us, something reckless. He’ll probably be my fall. And I’ll be his, whether he wants me or not.
Dio—God—I’ve completely lost my mind.
There’s a knock on the door. Finally, something to stop me from thinking about him.
“Come in.”
“Hey,” Colton says with a soft smile. “Am I interrupting anything?” he asks, stepping into my room.
Colton is the only person I truly know how I feel about in here. He’s so calm and sweet, and I can see that he genuinely cares about me, almost like I’m his younger sister.
“Nah, just some high school nonsense and a bit of mindless delirium, I guess.”
“Can I help with something?”
I exhale, avoiding eye contact. “I think no one can.”
He raises his brown brows. “Is it about … you know who?”
Great. Now it’s totally obvious he’s living rent-free in my head. Perfect. Just what I needed.
“How do you …?”
“Was it a secret?”
“My God, yes! Does he know?” I whisper-shout, my eyes as wide as they can be.
“Relax,” he chuckles. “No one knows.”
“What?”
“I just fished that out of you.”
Instantly, my expression turns solemn. “You didn’t.”
He bursts into laughter, and I can’t help but laugh too. There’s something so kind about him, and that kindness feels rare. I can easily imagine him as a good husband, and a devoted father. The fact that he works for my father says enough about his patience and his loyalty.
His dark eyes return to me, more solemn this time.
“Be careful, Isabella,” he says, warmth in his voice.
“I will.”
His thin lips press together, his eyes softening as if debating whether to tell me something he knows will annoy me or not.
“Your father wants to see you.”
There it is. I knew it.
“That’s not good,” I say, searching his eyes for the tiniest hint.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think it is.”
It never is. The last time Dad wanted to talk to me was to announce that we were leaving Italy. Not that I felt any different there, but at least it felt like home. Even if I was alone all the time. Just like now.
“I guess I can make him wait a little, can’t I?” I ask playfully, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Don’t overdo it, though.”
“You can go and show your goodwill. Say you did what you had to do.”
He nods casually, his eyes remaining on me for a bit longer, then turns around and walks away.
I have such a bad feeling about my father’s request, but of course, there’s nothing I can do. I have to obey like the good daughter I pretend to be. Or at least, that’s what people outside this circus think.
I drag my feet as long as humanly possible—because, honestly, the last thing I want is to see him.
Defying him feels like the only tiny rebellion I’ve got left.
But that lovely chill crawling down my spine just won’t quit.
So, with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner heading to her execution, I straighten up and make my way to his office.
On my way there, everyone turns their heads away, and no one talks to me as if I am the executioner walking among them. Shocking.
The door’s closed, of course. Because God forbid it ever be easy. I knock twice. Not a sound. He doesn’t even waste his precious royal breath acknowledging the nuisance that is his daughter waiting outside.
Whatever … I open the door.
“You wanted to see me.”
He gives me one of those slow, disdainful side glances that says I’m already polluting his oxygen. Then he lights his filthy cigar and lets the silence chew on me. Boris stands beside him, all broad shoulders and zero expression. Protecting him. From whom? His own daughter with a bad attitude?
“I’ll let it slide,” he says, exhaling the smoke. “You barged in here like a spoiled brat, but I’ve got bigger things to deal with.”
“I knocked twice.”
He inhales again. “Then maybe you should’ve waited for an answer.”
I never expect anything better from him—why would I? But somehow, he still manages to twist the knife a little deeper each time. He never misses a chance to drag me down. And the worst part is that it still gets to me.
Every. Damn. Time.
The door swings open again, snapping my attention toward it. It’s Adam. The moment he steps inside, strolling in like he owns the place, his eyes lock on mine.
“You called,” he says, voice low and rough, planting himself beside me. His arms fold across his chest—casual, almost bored.
Dad leaves his cigar on the glass ashtray, intertwines his fingers, and leans forward, resting his elbows on the chestnut desk.
“You need to escort her somewhere,” he says sternly to Adam, as if I’m not standing right beside him.
Adam shrugs. “That’s my job.”
Instantly, I’m even more certain that whatever my father has in mind, it’s definitely not a harmless stroll in the garden or some dull lecture at the university.
“Where?” I ask defiantly.
Dad clears his throat. “There’s this … friend of mine that wants to meet you,” he explains, his tone awfully and suspiciously nice.
“Me? Why?”
He exhales, his eyes almost rolling back, too bored to even explain his “friend’s” sudden interest in the daughter he never talks about.
“We’re going to do business together,” he says, voice lazy but heavy, cigar resting between his fingers again.
“And?”
He takes a slow drag, eyes narrowing just a bit. “Let’s just say … he’ll be family soon.”
I can’t believe this man.
“And he wants to take me out? Like … on a date?”
He shrugs, sets the cigar in the ashtray, and leans further into his black leather chair. “Well … you’ll both have men at your sides.” He looks at Adam. “And yours is more than capable of protecting you.”
My eyes land on Adam. He still looks calm, collected even, but I can see the truth beneath it. His jaw is locked tight, and the veins in his neck stand out like he’s barely holding himself together.
I’m nowhere near as contained as he is. I already know this conversation won’t lead anywhere. In the end, I’ll have to obey him, like everyone else does, but I can’t help myself. I have to fight back, at least once, for me.
“Did it ever cross your mind to ask me?” I demand, trying not to lose it.
“I don’t have to.”
“What?” I snap.
“It’s business. A powerful man wants to meet you, and I don’t have time for your attitude. You’ll show up, look pleasant, and keep quiet. That’s all you’re good for tomorrow night. He needs you to be more … approachable.”
“Dad!” The word tears out of me, my rage boiling over. There’s no way he said that.
“Be careful. You don’t get second chances with people like him,” he says, his voice flat, all business.
Then he glances at Adam, dismissing me like I’m not even in the room.
“And since she’s proven she can’t handle something that simple, you’ll make sure she doesn’t embarrass me again.
Keep her in line. Make her look presentable.
” He rolls his eyes again. “Maybe, for once in her life, she’ll actually be worth something. ”
My pulse is drumming in my ears, and my temples are throbbing. Adam uncrosses his arms and takes a step forward, his dark eyes locked on my father.
But I’m past reason. Enough is enough.
“I don’t give a shit about our future!” I snap, my palms clenching into fists next to me. “I don’t care about your pathetic rules, your beliefs, or that dirty empire you’re so damn proud of.” I pant. “Oh, and for your precious friends—I hope they choke on the impression we make.”
It’s never the things you hear that break you.
It’s the things you admit out loud. Once you say them, they stop being fears or wishes.
They become facts. All the half-truths you’ve been stuffing down, all the little prayers that maybe you’re wrong …
they clot into something solid the moment your mouth makes them real, and that stings worse than anything anyone else could throw at you.
“I don’t give a shit about anything.” I pause, realizing that this is just the truth. “Just like you don’t give a shit about me.”
Lazily, he takes his filthy cigar between his fingers and lets out a long, jaded exhale. He drives it to his lips, his eyes locked on his laptop screen as if that’s more important than his actual daughter in front of him.
My heart slams against my chest so hard it almost hurts to breathe.
Everyone has limits. Lines you don’t cross, words you don’t say. They’re what keep you from exploding, from burning everything down.
And my father just crossed them all.
Determined, I stride toward him and slap the cigar out of his hand. “Don’t ignore me!” I shout.
The cigar hits the ground before I can blink.
In the next heartbeat, he’s on his feet, gun drawn and aimed straight at me, but at the same time, Adam’s hands clamp at my ribs, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.
He drags me behind him, then squares his shoulders and steps out.
The gun settles against his heaving sternum. Rage flashes across his face.
Oh, my God.
Their eyes lock, fury simmering beneath the surface. Neither of them moves. It feels like watching two beasts circling, waiting for the first to strike. Two animals ready to tear each other apart over the same ground.
Boris already has his gun out, aimed at Adam, perfectly still, waiting for my father’s nod or the tiniest twitch to pull the trigger.
And Adam … He looks like a man who’d rather die than let my father, or anyone, touch me.
“Put that down,” Adam says calmly.
“Don’t you ever pull that shit with me again, you ungrateful, filthy spawn,” Dad roars, the veins in his neck straining.
A shit ton of emotions flood me at the moment—fear, regret, guilt, rage—and honestly, I don’t even know which one is the right one.
I’m scared for myself. For Adam. I’m terrified that my father is capable of ending him in a heartbeat, and I feel so bad for dragging him into my own mess.
I feel guilty—God, so excruciatingly guilty—and at the same time, all that regret burns away because my father fuels a kind of rage I didn’t even know I had in me.
Fear takes over, silencing me completely, and I can’t stop shaking.
“I said put that down,” Adam repeats dryly, not moving a muscle.
“You take your job way too seriously, Mitch.” Dad cracks up a sinister, fake smile, the gun still pointing at Adam.
“Job, instinct, call it whatever the fuck you want.” He takes a step forward, pressing the gun harder against his chest. “Put your fucking gun down,” he repeats through clenched teeth.
Dad hums, cocking his head to the side. “Such a rebel, pretty boy.” He drags and presses the muzzle underneath Adam’s jaw. “Is she really worth getting your brains splattered on the ceiling for?”
Terror grips me for good this time. I pant, unable to control my body anymore.
I grip Adam’s wrist and pull him back. “Please, don’t.”
“If she wasn’t worth the world, you wouldn’t force me to protect her with everything I’ve got.”
Force him …
He’s right. He was forced to protect me, and he’s getting paid for it. I guess I should be fine with it and be grateful that at least I’m still alive because of him. I’m not worth risking his life for.
I sidestep, exposing myself to my father, and gently rest my hand on Adam’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Adam. You’ve done enough.”
“Go to your room,” he replies without taking his eyes from my father’s.
“What?”
“It’ll be enough when you’re safe and sound.” He looks at me, his dark eyes penetrating mine. “Go. To. Your. Room.”