Chapter 17 – Isabella
ISABELLA
The sun beat down on us as we lounged by the pool, and I experienced, maybe for the first time since leaving La Dimora, a rare moment of relaxation.
Jemma, Mila Zotov, and Fee were engaged in some heated debate about drinks, of all things. Apparently, each had some preferences according to their homelands—which was hilarious to witness.
Cara sat at the edge of the pool, dipping her toes in the water, her eyes constantly scanning the perimeter like a deer in the headlights.
And not unlike how I was feeling.
I’d, of course, met Jemma and Fee before but not Cara. She was silent, an introvert, probably as shy as Mira who sat beside me and pressed her shoulder against mine in the same comforting way she’d done all my life.
I was the protector; she was the one helping me calm down. That had been our dynamic ever since we were kids.
I focused back on our surroundings—swept the entire pool area. I should be planning my next move—do anything more productive than sitting here. Instead, I kept glancing at the entrance, waiting for a tall figure with fiery blue eyes to appear.
“He’s not coming, you know,” Mira whispered, nudging me gently.
“Who?” I feigned ignorance, but the heat creeping up my neck betrayed me.
“Ivan. Anton told me they might be in meetings with Vince and the others all day.” Her knowing smile made me want to shove her into the pool.
But if everybody was tied up in meetings, it at least meant Grey was, as well.
“You’ve checked the entrance seventeen times in the last hour.”
“I have not.” I sounded like a petulant child, even to my own ears. “I’m just…monitoring our surroundings.”
“Mmhmm.” Mira’s eyebrows lifted in that infuriating way that told me she saw right through me.
When had I started expecting him to be nearby?
When had his absence become something I noticed, something that left an odd emptiness in the space around me?
It wasn’t just his protection I missed—though God knew we needed it—but his presence.
The dry humor that appeared when I least expected it.
The intensity in his gaze when he looked at me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve.
“Wait.” I turned to Mira and stared at her. “Anton? When did you talk to Anton Zotov? And since when are the two of you on a first-name basis? And what else don’t I know?”
Mira stared at the pool instead of looking me in the eyes, and red tinged her ears which was all the confirmation I needed. Was there something going on between Anton Zotov and my sister, something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge…or be confronted about?
Finally Mira faced me head-on. “You’re reading too much into it. Just because you’ve got the hots for a Russian bad boy doesn’t mean everyone else has too.”
“Who’s got the hots for who?” Fee asked. Apparently, they had ended their discussions since all three of them were looking at us.
Jemma gave me a knowing look. “You know, if you stare at that gate any harder, it might actually burst into flames.”
“I’m not staring at anything,” I protested though my voice lacked conviction.
Fee snorted, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “Please. You’ve got it bad, girl.”
“Got what bad?” I challenged though my racing heart already knew the answer.
“The hots for the Russian,” Fee said bluntly, flipping a page. “Can’t say I blame you. He’s not all bad, and he’s built like a brick house…the sexy kind.”
“Fee!” Mira gasped though her scandalized expression quickly gave way to a giggle.
“Who’s built like a brick house?” Nina Zotov, who just joined us, asked.
I narrowed my eyes and glared at Fee. Not that it had any impact.
“What? I’m just stating facts. Alex is still my number one, obviously, but I’m not blind. And I got a thing for neck tattoos.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my chest at the mere mention of Ivan. “You’re all delusional. He’s a Zotov. He kidnapped me, remember? Stockholm syndrome isn’t really my thing.”
“Mmhmm,” Jemma hummed, unconvinced. “That’s why you light up like a Christmas tree whenever you square off with him. But I get it; he looks at you like he wants to devour you.”
“I do not; he does not—”
A sudden alarm blared through the compound, making us all jump. Mila and Nina exchanged a look before jumping to their feet.
“Stay here,” Nina ordered, her hand already reaching for the weapon I knew she kept concealed at her ankle. “We’ll check it out. Don’t move an inch, understood?”
“What’s happening?” Cara asked, her voice tight with anxiety while she climbed from the pool and huddled closer to the rest of us.
“Probably nothing,” Mila said, but her tense posture contradicted her casual tone. “Just stay put. We’ll be right back.”
They disappeared through the gate, and I immediately stood up, scanning the area. Something felt wrong.
“We should move,” I said, grabbing Mira’s arm. “Now.”
Before we could take a step, the electronic lock on the gate clicked, and the entrance sealed shut. Six men in tactical gear appeared from behind the cabanas, moving with military precision.
“Miss Salvini,” the leader said, his accent vaguely Eastern European. “Mr. Grey requires your presence immediately.”
My blood turned to ice. Ivan’s warning echoed in my mind: Never let Grey catch you alone.
“I’m comfortable right here, thanks,” I replied, backing up slowly, positioning myself between the men and the others.
“This isn’t a request.” His hand moved to the back of his pants, where he probably had his weapon.
“You can tell Grey I’ll meet with him later, after I’ve had a chance to—”
The man lunged forward and grabbed my arm. Jemma jumped up, but another guard shoved her back down with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs. Fee launched herself at him, but the third guard caught her midair, twisting her arm behind her back until she cried out.
“Stop!” I shouted as the fourth man pressed a gun against Mira’s temple. “I’ll come with you. Don’t hurt them.”
The leader smiled, cold and efficient. “A wise choice.”
As two of them dragged me away, I caught a glimpse of Mila and Nina trapped on the other side of the gate, held at gunpoint, the same as Mira, Jemma, Fee, and Cara.
Fuck. I should’ve stayed in my room or demanded to be a part of the meetings with the men. Or I should’ve left the island when Vince wanted to.
I just didn’t believe Grey would try something, what with my family around.
Hopefully, someone would soon be able to alert them.
I’d never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. I was good behind a computer, but this real hardcore-crime-shit stuff? Not at all my cup of tea
Where were Vince or Ivan when I needed them? Damn. I shouldn’t have let my guard down. Should’ve demanded to leave the island as soon as my family arrived.
Fuck.
What was I thinking? Letting myself become dependent on someone else’s protection.
Trusting Zotov.
Being independent, not trusting anyone—that had always been one of the core principles in my life.
How did Zotov waltz into my life and turn everything upside down, including my principles?
They marched me across the compound toward the sea, to what I could only assume was Grey’s private villa since that was where he’d wanted to interrogate me the first time.
We approached the Mediterranean-style building that somehow felt more like a mausoleum than a home. Inside, the air conditioning raised goose bumps on my sun-warmed skin.
The guards led me to a study lined with books that looked like they’d never been opened, all matching leather spines arranged by color rather than content.
So Grey was a poser.
Grey sat behind an ornate desk, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as he watched me enter. Another man stood in the corner, his white coat and the medical case at his feet setting off all the alarm bells in my head at once.
What the hell?
“Isabella,” Grey said, his voice smooth as oil. “I appreciate you joining me.”
“Wasn’t aware I had a choice,” I replied, keeping my tone light despite the hammering of my heart. Why wasn’t Grey in those meetings? Shouldn’t he have been there, as well?
Grey smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes. “We all have choices. Some are simply more…consequential than others. Let’s not waste our precious time together.”
He nodded to the man in the white coat, who approached me without hesitation. Before I could react, the guards pinned my arms, and I felt the sharp sting of a needle in my neck.
“What the hell?” I struggled, but the drug worked quickly, making my limbs heavy and my thoughts sluggish.
“A simple truth serum, mixed with a bit of a relaxant,” Grey explained, leaning forward with clinical interest. “It makes resistance…impossible. Now we’ll have an honest conversation about what you did, what you know, and what you can do for me.”
They pushed me into a chair across from Grey’s desk, the room tilting slightly as the drug took hold. I forced myself to focus, to fight the creeping warmth spreading through my veins.
“Let’s start with something simple,” Grey began, his voice echoing strangely in my ears. “Your work as Iset. Impressive, I must say. It took me a long while to make the connection.”
I pressed my lips together, determined to resist.
“The serum will take full effect in approximately two minutes,” the white-coated man informed Grey. “Her resistance is…temporary.”
Grey nodded, unperturbed. “While we wait, perhaps we can discuss your time with us. You seem to have adjusted well to your circumstances.” He steepled his fingers, studying me with uncomfortable intensity.
“Ivan Zotov has been quite…attentive, hasn’t he?
He seems quite protective of you. And you seem… unusually comfortable with him.”
Something in his tone made my skin crawl. The way he said Ivan’s name carried an undercurrent of possession, of authority.
“What’s your relationship with Ivan Zotov?” Grey asked, his eyes never leaving my face.