Chapter 11 – Ivan #2
Roman lounged in the driver’s seat of the lead vehicle with his signature half-bored, easy grin, which he hid his intelligence and sharp focus under, and gave me a two-finger salute.
I nodded in response to him, then hung back when Grey led the Salvini twins to Roman’s Jeep and signaled for them to slide into the back before he settled into the passenger seat himself.
Yeah, the questioning session with my siblings would have to wait. I strode over and opened Roman’s door. “Out. I’m driving.”
He raised an eyebrow but complied, reading the tension in my stance. I wanted—needed—to ride with my siblings, to figure out why they were here, but I couldn’t leave Grey alone with the twins.
The risk was too high—the risk or my protective instincts, which were screaming right now.
Grey didn’t show any visible reaction to the change in driver, but just because he didn’t show it, didn’t mean he wasn’t noticing my actions, calculating my intentions.
Through the rearview mirror, I caught Shorty’s subtle reaction when Nina walked past—a flash of surprise, quickly followed by insecurity.
What was that all about? As far as I knew, the Salvinis had never crossed paths with any of my siblings. She shouldn’t react to my sister by sight.
“I didn’t expect to see my family here.” I kept my tone casual as we pulled onto the winding road. I hadn’t wanted to expose too much, hadn’t even wanted Shorty to know I had family—too late now.
Grey’s lips curved in that particular smile that always meant trouble. “I thought a family vacation would be nice. It’s been too long since we all spent quality time together.”
My hands tightened on the wheel. A family vacation? Seriously?
If everything went according to plan, Vince Salvini, and maybe even the Falcone family, would arrive within days.
If Grey had brought my siblings here now…a chill ran down my spine as the implications hit. Was he expecting complications, and had he positioned my family as the first line of defense?
In the mirror, I watched Shorty lean forward slightly, her attention fixed on our conversation.
Her eyes met mine briefly before darting away, but I caught the calculating look in them.
She was filing each tidbit away like her life depended on it, was probably trying to piece everything together—something that made her pulse jump visibly at her throat.
The rest of the vehicles fell into formation behind us, an ominous parade heading up the mountain. Each mile increased the weight of Grey’s casual words about “family vacation.” This was neither the time nor the place for that. Why now? Why here?
Grey’s idea of a “proper welcome” really did include cocktails and forced socialization. He’d also had the compound’s pool area transformed into some twisted parody of a welcome party.
I signaled for Nina and Mila to stay with the twins, then hung back near the entrance while cataloging and watching Grey play gracious host. As Anton and Roman flanked me, I muttered, “What’s the old man’s game?”
“No idea.” Anton’s voice was barely audible. “He ordered us here.” His tone of voice betrayed the level of disbelief. “But on top of everything, the tech’s been glitching since yesterday. Random outages, system resets.”
Roman nodded slightly. “Like someone’s messing with the systems. Likely from the inside.”
I nodded. Pantelleria was a high-security facility.
And the Paraskia Syndicate usually wasn’t amateur hour.
Ever since we started operating for the Paraskia, we were introduced to expectations or long-term goals.
Everything else, the strategies, the tactics, the planning, and the execution, we had done completely independently.
We weren’t operatives who were ordered around.
Usually…until now.
Everything about Grey’s behavior screamed odd.
His recklessness in taking the Salvini girls hostage. This sudden idea of “family time.” His obsession with Isabella Salvini.
Something about the Paraskia’s wish to bring the Salvinis into the fold, and Grey’s erratic behavior, and keeping secrets, didn’t mesh.
Timing-wise, location-wise, motivation-wise.
“What the fuck is going on?” I muttered under my breath, barely audible, so only Roman and Anton would catch it.
Both shrugged. The unspoken agreement passed between us—something smelled fishy, and none of us trusted anyone else. Period.
Roman’s gaze drifted to Shorty, his interest obvious. “The one with the head wound’s interesting. Mirabella, right?”
I clenched my jaw before I could respond despite every instinct inside of me screaming, “Mine.” Telling my brother to keep his fucking eyes off Shorty would only spark his interest even more.
“I think the other one’s more beautiful; she has that touch of vulnerability in her eyes.” Anton had always gravitated toward people in need of protection. Men or women.
They both wandered off, probably to start a charm offensive on the twins.
Fuckers. Both of them.
Anton offered what appeared to be vodka but was probably water, and the way Isabella accepted it with practiced grace made me wonder how often she’d navigated similar situations. She wasn’t so vulnerable and shy after all.
I shifted position and placed myself, so I could intercept Roman’s approach to Shorty. I grabbed the drink he’d picked up at the bar. “Thanks, bro.”
He stared at me, but I ignored him, took a sip to check that it wasn’t alcohol, then handed it to Shorty.
My brothers exchanged looks. I pretended not to notice.
I looked back at Shorty, and the way she stared at the drink in her hand, then at me, and back to the drink was hilarious.
“Did you just taste-test my water?” she asked.
I nodded.
She narrowed her brows and cocked her head. “The water your brother handed to me?”
I nodded.
“Does that mean you’re not even trusting your brother?”
She was probing, trying to gather more insight.
I held her gaze. “I trust all of my siblings with my life.”
“Then why?”
Should I tell her the truth or keep her in the dark? Nothing good would come from exposing myself, but I decided to give her this much. “Just because I trust them with my life doesn’t mean I trust them with you.”
She took a couple of seconds just looking at me, assessing my answer.
“Making new friends?” Nina’s voice carried across the pool area as she and Mila stepped into our little huddle. Mila immediately engaged Isabella in conversation while Nina inched in between Shorty and me and edged me out.
Giving my brothers the chance to pull me with them and away from her.
“Overprotective, are we.” Roman stated because it sure as shit wasn’t a question.
“What exactly happened between the time you caught her and when you landed here?” Anton asked.
I stared at them as if they’d both lost their minds. “Nothing happened except one long-ass flight.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like nothing.”
I narrowed my brows and countered their stares while simultaneously tuning in on Shorty’s and Nina’s intense conversation about…airplane security?
Fuck me, was she telling on me already?
I looked at Mila and the other twin, who looked more comfortable than I’d seen her before.
The easy way the twins engaged with my sisters set off more warning bells. This wasn’t the behavior of captives or strangers.
Was that Grey’s motivation for bringing my fam here? Because the Salvini sisters would be more comfortable with Mila and Nina around? Not that they were the only female operatives within the organization.
I zeroed back in on Shorty. She acted like someone who was well trained in handling social situations, reading and responding to subtle cues.
She didn’t act like that when we were alone.
Not at all. There was nothing of this polished facade present, not when she glared at me, not when she curled into me, searching for my body warmth, and not when she kicked me on the plane.
Grey watched it all from his position by the bar, that same unsettling smile playing at his lips.
Fuck.
Maybe I was nothing more than a dog on a leash—not knowing who held the other end of it and what their intentions were.
Did I really know Grey?
Maybe keeping an eye on the twins, preferably in isolation, would be the smarter choice to maintain control of the situation until I knew what was really going on.
Only, with my sisters already forming connections and my brothers showing clear interest, that plan might be borderline impossible to execute.
Nina said something that made Shorty burst into laughter.
And I was momentarily paralyzed.
I hadn’t witnessed her laugh before, but whatever I’d expected from the short, curvy, Italian beauty, it wasn’t that deep, guttural belly laugh that made me think of silk sheets and hot, steamy sex.
Grey rose from his bar stool and crossed the space, that predatory smile still in place. “Isabella, perhaps we could discuss some matters in private? You must be exhausted from your journey.”
My muscles tensed before my brain fully processed his words. The way he looked at her—like a collector eyeing a prized acquisition—made my skin crawl.
Shorty must’ve picked up on it, as well, since she positioned herself between her sister and Grey.
“Actually, sir”—I stepped forward, keeping my tone neutral but firm—“I recommend allowing both sisters time to rest and recover. The flight was quite turbulent and long.”
Grey’s eyes flickered to mine, something dangerous glinting in their depths. “Always so concerned with the welfare of our guests, Ivan. I wasn’t aware your duties extended to…caring for our guests personally.”
“Just being thorough, sir.” I met his gaze steadily while positioning myself between him and Shorty. “We wouldn’t want any complications from rushing things or creating antagonism before we even get the chance to talk.”
A tense moment passed before Grey inclined his head slightly. “Very well. Tomorrow then.” He bowed before them. “Isabella, I can’t wait to chat.” Then he turned around, but the look he gave me spoke volumes—my interference was highly unwanted, and he wouldn’t tolerate or forget it.
My chest tightened as he walked away. I’d chosen to protect her over maintaining professional distance, and that decision would have consequences.
My mission parameters had been clear—get close to Salvini and bring him into the fold, and when that didn’t happen fast enough, Grey stepped in with a new plan and ordered me to step back and let him handle the rest.
Now that the kidnapping had gone sideways, and it made him look bad, he couldn’t be too happy. Because even when he’d tasked me to deliver the sisters, I had almost heard his clenched jaw through the phone.
I should’ve just brought them here, turned around, and had the private jet fly me back to Italy. That would’ve been the smart decision.
Instead, I’d just painted a big fat target on my back, and I knew perfectly well how friendly fire was equally lethal.
Fuck. I shared a glance with Nina, who surprisingly could read me the best of all of them. She nodded in agreement.
So at least my little sister didn’t think I was a complete fuck-up.
I locked eyes with Shorty, who stared at me while holding hands with her sister. She knew they’d just dodged a bullet—thanks to my interference.
Professional distance be damned—I couldn’t leave Shorty or her sister unprotected.
Because something told me I couldn’t just hand them over to Grey’s mercy.
Not when I didn’t exactly know what was going on.
Not when every instinct screamed that Grey’s interest in Isabella Salvini went far beyond normal operational concerns.
Not when Shorty had no sense of self-preservation when it came to protecting her sister.
I watched Grey’s retreating form. I’d made my choice. Even if it meant compromising everything else.
“Let’s take a breather,” I said, and Nina immediately understood and showed the twins the way.
The guest quarters were usually in the main building—a labyrinth of connecting suites, deliberately designed to keep “guests” closely under surveillance. But that wasn’t where my sisters, with the twins in tow, were headed.
I tracked Shorty’s movements as we walked. She hung slightly back, positioning herself between her sister and me and my brothers, whom she apparently perceived as a bigger threat than my sisters.
“Your rooms are this way.” Mila gestured toward the separate building right next to ours. “Nina and I set them up earlier. You’ll be right next to us.”
Of course they did.
Good girls.
I exhaled and relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.
The knowing smirks my brothers exchanged weren’t subtle.
“Getting territorial over a girl?” Roman muttered as he passed me. “That’s a new one.”
I shot him a warning look, but he just chuckled.
“Come on, we all saw how you intercepted Grey,” Anton, who flanked me on the other side, said. “Subtle as a sledgehammer, brother.”
Their assumptions about my interest being romantic rather than tactical irked me. They should know better than that.
But if Grey thought the same thing…that could be useful. Still, their teasing hit uncomfortably close to something I wasn’t ready to examine.
“Those Salvini twins are actually something else,” Anton said.
“How so?” I asked.
“Normal women would be intimidated or at least not behave as if they’re having Sunday tea with their kidnappers,” Anton said.
“They’re naturals at this,” Roman observed quietly. “Makes you wonder what other skills they’re hiding.”
I watched Shorty laugh at something Mila said, the sound, once again, doing dangerous things to my focus.
But then, Shorty turned her head and looked me straight in the eyes. No laughter in sight.
They were Mafia princesses. Of course, they knew how to hide their true feelings. So why did it feel like she didn’t hide them from me?
Or was she playing me?
But if she was banking on my growing need to protect her and her sister, wouldn’t she at least try to appear weaker and more vulnerable?
So then, was everything, including their easy camaraderie with my sisters, just a show?
And despite knowing all of this, despite knowing I’d barely seen her true feelings, why was keeping my professional distance becoming harder to maintain with each passing hour?