Chapter 19
ISLA
As I’m shepherded through the bowels of a casino by armed Mafia guards, Cid tucked away in the carrier I’m holding, I question the life choices that led me here.
Despite my earlier protestations to the contrary when Alessio first floated the idea of my living in an underground safe house for the duration of my cat-sitting duty, the home invasion courtesy of the Andriani family’s Russian friends left me no choice.
I caved. I have zero way of knowing if I’ll be safe in this Mafia bunker I’m headed to, but I do know that Priest and Luna’s penthouse and Alessio’s apartment have been compromised.
Our grim entourage reaches an elevator, and Alessio gives the command to his men to stand down.
Then he goes to the elevator for what looks like a retinal scan.
He holds his thumb to a pad, and the doors glide open.
I can’t help but feel a little bit like the characters on Squid Game waiting to head into the next round of deadly Olympics.
Maybe it’s because we’re about to descend deep into some secret lair.
Maybe it’s everything that’s unfolded in the last forty-eight hours.
Whatever it is, this feels final, like I’m going to a place of no return.
As if he can hear my panicked thoughts, Alessio turns to me, his expression serious. “You ready?”
No.
I’m so not ready.
I want to scream it, to shout it, to run in the opposite direction with Cid. To hide somewhere no one will find us until this is all over and Luna returns and I can go back to my normal, boring life. The one where my fiancé cheated on me.
The reminder makes me wince.
“Ready as possible,” I tell him.
He jerks his head toward the waiting elevator. “Get in.”
I want to blurt that he should ask nicely. Say please. But he’s stoic and grim, and his face may as well be etched in granite. When he came running into his bedroom earlier, his rage was palpable. It was a glimpse of what he’s capable of, the man hiding underneath his polished, sexy facade.
A reminder that I belong as far away from this world as humanly possible. I know nothing about the Mafia. Nothing about a life of crime and violence. Nothing about enemies who steal into apartments or blow up buildings, putting dozens of innocent lives at risk.
Cid and I step inside and settle in the far corner. Alessio joins us, and the doors close, the instant jolt into movement taking me by surprise. Cid meows from his carrier.
“I agree, little buddy,” I tell him wryly. “It’s been a day.”
“I’m sorry about everything that’s happened,” Alessio says, his voice unusually quiet. “None of it should have. Not a single second of it.”
I want to tell him it’s okay and that it’s not his fault, but the truth is, it’s very not okay.
And I don’t know whose fault it is, but I do know that if he and his brothers weren’t mobsters, the Russian Mafia wouldn’t be after them.
Their restaurant wouldn’t have been bombed.
I wouldn’t have been scared half to death by a stranger breaking into the bedroom while I lay there naked and sleeping.
Luna wouldn’t have been almost killed a year ago.
And on and on and on.
Now that we’re out of the line of fire—at least, I hope we are—some of the shock is wearing off, replaced by resentment.
I look into those ocean-blue eyes. “You’re damn right it shouldn’t have happened. Do you have any idea how fucked up this all is?”
He doesn’t say anything. Just stares.
I’m hitting my stride, so I continue. “I’ve been stalked by multiple Russian Mafia creepers, one of whom saw me half naked and handcuffed me to a bed after scaring the hell out of me. They blew up an entire restaurant. It’s a miracle no one was seriously hurt.”
“It wasn’t a miracle.” His jaw is clenched.
I know I’m pushing him too far, but I’m beyond controlling myself. “What do you mean, it wasn’t a miracle? Of course it was.”
“You don’t know the Bratva like I do. If they wanted casualties, there would have been a dozen bodies buried in the rubble.
Everything was timed perfectly. They hacked into the street cameras and wiped them, which tells me they knew where I was and what I was doing, every step of the way.
They knew when I’d get to my apartment, what I’d find.
They knew you’d tell me, and I’d call the manager to evacuate everyone and clear the street.
” He pauses as the elevator doors open with a pleasant ding, like we’re in a posh hotel instead of buried several stories underground. “So, you see? Not a miracle.”
Then he makes a show of being a gentleman and letting me off the elevator first.
Gripping Cid’s carrier so hard it feels like my knuckles might snap, I stomp off the elevator and into a space that’s surprisingly nice and not at all like the cold, utilitarian basement space I imagined.
There’s a full kitchen, a spacious living room, and a hallway leading to more rooms and closed doors.
There’s even a sparkling chandelier overhead.
“This is some serious Willy Wonka shit right here,” I grumble, looking over my shoulder at Alessio.
He saunters off the elevator, exuding raw magnetism and sex appeal.
I wish I could turn off my attraction to him, but it’s still there, burning hotter and brighter than ever, like a trick birthday candle that won’t blow out, only magnified roughly a hundred bazillion times.
The doors close behind him, leaving us trapped here together.
Or maybe, to be more accurate, leaving me and Cid trapped here, because I don’t know how to get out of this place, and I’m pretty sure there’s only one way—through Alessio.
“Is that the one with the Cowardly Lion?” he asks.
I know he can’t be serious. He’s doing what he does, trying to deflect. I can see past his tough exterior, all the armor he wears.
“No, the one with the girl who turns into a blueberry.”
“I don’t know if I should be happy you’ve calmed down enough to debate movie characters with me or concerned that you don’t look like you’re ready to stab me when I turn the other way.”
He stares at me, and for a second, he’s nothing more than the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and the one I can’t keep myself from wanting.
He’s not a Mafia consigliere. He’s not a kingpin in a criminal enterprise who is partially responsible for the reign of terror that’s been visited upon me by Russian mobsters.
He’s not the reason I’m hiding in an underground bunker where no one can find me.
He’s just Alessio.
I’m just me.
And I’m glad he’s here, with his irreverence and his sexy mouth and his eight-pack and his magical tongue and even more magical dick.
Cid meows loudly, and I remember that he needs to get settled in yet another new space. I feel bad for the poor guy. He’s had a tough go, first being without Luna and Priest, then moving to a new place, plus an intruder, and now we’re underground in a windowless prison.
It feels kind of like a grave.
“Where should I get him set up?” I ask Alessio, regaining my briefly misplaced sanity.
“I had the guys deliver all his things in an unmarked box. I told them to set up the litter box in the laundry room. Just leave the door propped open, and he can have his run of the place.”
I blink at his casual response. “There’s a laundry room in here?”
This place is wild. And he’s taken care of everything. I just hope the Russian mobsters don’t know about the safe house and, if they do, there’s no way for them to get in here. A shudder goes through me at the thought.
Alessio cocks his head at me, noticing. “You cold?”
“No. I was just wondering if the Russian Mafia knows about this place and how safe we are here.”
“You’re safe here. I promise.”
“You said I was safe at your apartment,” I point out.
His face darkens with wrath, and I regret reminding him of what played out there this morning.
“No one will get to you. This is our safe house for good reason.” He pauses, his jaw working for a second before he continues. “And beyond that, I will lay down my life for yours, Isla.”
His words resonate with truth. He means them.
No one has ever said something like that to me before. I’m reasonably sure that if there had ever been a hint of danger when I was with Christian, he would have thrown me in front of it to save himself.
I’m moved even though I don’t want to be, and even though I know Alessio is partly responsible for this situation.
I open my mouth to say something, but before I can speak, the sound of a woman screaming interrupts. My heart drops.
“Who’s that?” I demand, my suspicions kicking in, fueled by all those episodes of crime shows I’ve binged.
Maybe this isn’t a safe house at all. Maybe this is actually a torture chamber and the woman in line ahead of me is getting worked over as we speak.
Except Alessio looks every bit as surprised as I am.
His dark brows snap down. “What the fuck?”
He starts to stalk in the direction of the sound, down the hall beyond the living room area, behind one of the closed doors.
I have no idea what’s going on, but my curiosity won’t allow me to wait here where it’s probably safest. I set down Cid’s carrier and follow Alessio as more screams ring out, followed by something that sounds a whole lot like an irate Russian woman who’s threatening to stab someone in the eye.
“I thought you said the Russians wouldn’t find us here,” I call after him, feeling my rate of nervousness triple.
“The Russians don’t have a clue about this place,” he calls back grimly. “But my brother does.”
I only have to wonder which brother he means for a grand total of about three seconds, because a door pops open and Scorpion emerges, scratches on his cheek. He doesn’t look at all concerned by the incensed woman in the room behind him, who continues to holler and issue threats.
“Frattore mio,” Scorpion greets Alessio, grinning like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“What the hell is going on?” Alessio demands by way of greeting.