Chapter 86
BELLA
NOX
We’re going to Worlds. Ellie is dancing.
Josh and I are dancing. And most importantly, The Trifecta is dancing.
I still can’t believe it. In just a couple months we are going to be dancing our hearts out in freaking Paris, France.
Like, the Eiffel Tower, crepes, leather jackets, hot baguette boys, Paris.
The last few days have been complete and utter chaos.
We flew home straight after the win, high on adrenaline and victory.
We turned the private jet into a sky-high party.
I’m talking glow sticks, champagne, playlist battles, and Rico threatening that if anyone spilled on his vintage fur coat one more time, he’d jump… midair.
Sky Daddy Eric strolled out of the cockpit halfway through the flight, shirt half unbuttoned, tequila in one hand, aviators still on. He grinned at the cabin like we were all his adoring fans.
“Relax, kids. We’re on autopilot. This baby practically flies herself.”
Cade glanced up, face blanching. “Eric, that’s not exactly comforting.”
Eric only winked, leaning over to blow me a tequila-soaked kiss. “Come on, Picasso. Don’t be so uptight. You made it to Worlds. Live a little.”
Cade stared. “Didn’t you install the autopilot system yourself?”
“Sure did. Named her Lucille.”
Lex sat up in an instant. “The fuck do you mean, named her?”
“Because she deserves one,” Eric said solemnly, taking another swig like that settled the matter.
Lex muttered, “I knew we should’ve driven.”
Eric was already strolling down the aisle like a runway model. “Relax, boys. FAA cleared me last month. Well. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” Cade yelped.
“I passed the vibe check,” Eric shrugged.
Lex tightened his seatbelt so hard it squeaked. “What vibe? Unhinged chaos?”
“Exactly.” Eric raised his tequila. “Air Chaos, baby. Trademark pending.”
Knox, from the back row, lifted a lime wedge and toasted him. “My king.”
“Okay, no,” Cade said, visibly sweating. “Knox, don’t encourage him.”
Eric turned to me. “Wanna co-pilot, Blackwood? I’ll let you push the shiny buttons.”
Lex growled, “Touch one fucking switch, baby, and I swear I’ll throw Eric out of this plane.”
Eric saluted us. “Anyway, congrats on making it to Worlds. Try not to crash the penthouse when you land. I’m out.” And then he vanished back into the cockpit for the rest of the flight.
Cade immediately grabbed a whiskey and threw it back. “If we survive this, I’m never stepping foot on a private jet again. I’m flying Delta. I want peanuts and a crying toddler.”
Lex raised a brow. “Middle seat?”
“Middle seat.”
“Layover?” Lex asked.
“Give me five.”
And then the crazy began. Six hours of zero sleep, shots, loud music, and bad decisions.
When we got home, sweet Jesus, the sex. Reuniting with my guys after Nationals was like lighting a match in a room full of fireworks. Lex had me against the glass wall of our suite before my heels even came off—his voice all low Russian growl, his hands rough and greedy.
Cade didn’t even wait for the bed, just pulled me down onto the fur rug in front of the fireplace and made love to me like the world could fall apart around us and he’d still only see me.
It was messy. It was perfect.
And now we’re here. Standing in the marble lobby at NOX, staring at the gilded elevator doors like they’re about to swallow me whole.
Lex steps forward, blocking the elevator with his body. “Baby. Let us come with you.”
I shake my head. “No. He said he wanted to talk to me alone.”
Lex’s jaw ticks. “Who gives a flying fuck what he wants? Let us come.”
Cade steps between us, calm as ever. “Lex.”
But Lex doesn’t back down. “I don’t like it. He’s a manipulative bastard. You shouldn’t be alone with him.”
I sigh. “We really connected at Nationals. He’s… trying.” My voice dips. “And he’s the only parent I have left.”
That softens them both. Just a little.
“Look,” I say, reaching for their hands. “If I’m not back down in thirty minutes, you can come barge in like the overprotective psychos I know and love.”
Lex narrows his eyes. “Ten.”
“Twenty,” I counter.
“Ten,” he snaps again.
Cade holds up a hand. “Fifteen.”
We all look at each other.
“Fine,” Lex and I say in unison.
I pull them both in. “I love you.”
Cade kisses my forehead. “We’ll be right here.”
Lex tugs my wrist, pressing his lips to my knuckles. “Fifteen minutes, baby.”
And then I step into the elevator.
Roman’s office is quiet. Dark wood. Heavy silence. He stands as I enter, warmth flickering in his eyes. “I’m glad you came.”
I offer a soft smile. “Me too. Thanks again for coming to Nationals. It meant a lot to me, having you there.”
He walks around the desk, motions for me to sit. “It meant a lot to me, too. Watching you dance was something else. Thank you for allowing me to be there.”
I sit. “Well, we had to make sure you got your money’s worth.”
That earns a low chuckle. “You’re as dangerous as your mother was. Maybe more.”
He lifts a folder from the desk. Thick. Formal. My pulse picks up.
“I wanted to talk to you about something. Something real,” he begins.
“I once told you that NOX and The Obsidian, they were yours if you wanted them. And I meant it. These”—he gestures to the documents—“are the formal deeds. Transfer agreements. Corporate control. Everything I’ve built, tied up in the shell corps and offshore trusts, all of it. ”
I stare. “What are you saying?”
“I want to name you, my heir. Publicly. Formally. Isabella Marie Russo. You can keep using Blackwood or hyphenate it, that’s all up to you. Just legally on paper, I’d love for you to become a Russo. My daughter.”
The words land like bricks.
“Don’t worry about the businesses or any of that just yet. I’m still here, so legally we’d be co-owners. But when the time comes,” he shrugs lightly. “It’ll all be yours.”
My heart is thudding now. “Roman, that’s—”
“Big. I know.” His gaze softens. “But so are you. You’re not a little girl anymore, Bella. You’re a force. You’re fire and legacy and blood. You are mine. And I think it’s time that the world knows it.”
His eyes drift toward the window, watching The Obsidian below. “I just wanted to give you something. After all the years I wasn’t there for you.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
LEX: Clock’s ticking baby
I roll my eyes, then glance up at Roman. “I don’t know what to say.”
My throat tightens. My chest too. He doesn’t rush me. Just watches, patient and still.
“I just…” I blink fast, trying to keep it together. “You’re the only parent I have left. And ever since you saved my life, something changed.”
Roman’s jaw ticks. His gaze drops for half a second, then lifts again, sharper now.
“I know we were texting and calling before, but now it feels different,” I whisper. “Like it’s not just about filling the silence anymore. Every time we talk, it gets more real. More… ours.”
His fingers drum once on the desk, then still.
“Then in Dallas, we actually sat down and talked, really talked. And when it came time to stand up to Javi about switching the dance…” my voice falters. “It was your voice in my head. Your voice gave me the courage.”
The corner of his mouth moves, something between pride and pain.
“You’re the reason I changed that routine. You’re the reason we’re going to Paris, Dad.”
The word slips out before I can stop it.
Roman—Dad—freezes. Like it’s the one thing he never thought he’d hear from me. His eyes go glossy, but he blinks fast, swallowing it down like a man not used to being handed softness.
I take a deep breath and look up at him, our steel eyes locking. “I would love nothing more than to be your daughter.”
His breath is sharp and unguarded. Like the words hit someplace he thought had gone numb. “Really?” he whispers.
I nod, but it’s barely a movement. “Yeah. I mean it. You’ve shown up for me in ways I never thought I’d get again. And I know I’m not ready to give up the Blackwood name… not yet. Not formally. That name is Zeke. It’s who I became because of him. I just, I need more time with that. Is that okay?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Take all the time you need.”
My hands tremble, but I don’t care. I don’t even look at the paper. I stand and walk straight into his arms. He catches me like he’s been waiting his whole life for this very moment.
The sobs hit fast, messy, years in the making. His arms tighten around me, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other wrapped around my back like a shield. He doesn’t say anything. Just holds me. Breathes with me. Kisses the top of my head like it’s instinct.
When I finally pull back, my face is a wreck—mascara smudged, cheeks wet, lips trembling. But his eyes are glassy too, jaw clenched like he’s holding back everything he’s never said. He reaches out slowly, thumb brushing a tear from my cheek with a reverence that cracks something wide open in me.
I turn toward the desk. My hands are still shaking. The paper waits, silent and heavy with everything it means. He stays behind me, breath warm at my back, not pushing, not rushing, just there. Present. Steady.
I pick up the pen. And for a second, I just stare at the line. Then I sign it.
Sharp.
Final.
Mine.
The ink bleeds like a vow. His hand lands on my shoulder, strong and silent.
Something catches my eye on his desk. A photograph framed in gold. A photo of Roman standing beside another man. Tall, lean, and in a NYPD uniform. Grinning. Confident. Familiar.
My stomach drops.
“Who’s this?” I ask, standing slowly, staring at the image.
Roman glances over. “Hmm? Oh. That’s an old friend of mine, Luca. He was my mole inside the NYPD. Had him on the ground looking for you after you were born. Before everything fell apart and the trail went cold. Haven’t seen him in years.”
My mouth goes dry. My vision tunnels.
Emerald eyes.
Dark hair.
Scar on his left forearm.
The one he never talked about.
I can’t breathe. I take a step back.
“Dad… that’s not—”
“You really shouldn’t have seen that, Sugar Bear.”
My spine locks. “Jac—”
BANG.
The shot rings out like thunder. Roman stumbles. Blood blooms across his chest like a dark rose. He collapses onto the desk, eyes wide, lips parting.
“Dad!”
I hear the click of a gun and then the voice that lives in my nightmares.
“Hello Izzy, my little pet.”