Chapter 5 – Isabella
W ho had been in my room? First some large, otherworldly intruder, and now…a dinner guest? I scanned the long table. Many of the females who accompanied me to the fitting were guests here. It made more sense that one of them left the second rose. But still, there was the invasion from the other night that needed to be taken into account.
Was it an assassination attempt? Although someone had been in my room, watching me sleep, they hadn’t hurt me. Coups weren’t unheard of in the world of mobsters. Was the midnight intruder the first wave, and this subtle messaging an attempt to woo me to their cause?
It wasn’t as if Don Aldo could be easily overthrown. If nothing else, this dinner was testament enough. The guests who didn’t know the extent of his proclivities sucked up to the wildly successful businessman. The criminals? They worshiped at the temple of power and wealth that was the mob boss.
My gaze flickered down the table. Gio was flanked by two adolescents. Devotion made my heart shudder. Nothing could happen to that boy—because as much as he wanted to protest, he was closer to childhood than adulthood. The shiny rock on my finger spun as I twirled it with my thumb. For now, Gio was safe. No one was touching my brother. Not while I had breath left in my lungs.
The phone call from last year played through my mind. The news of my parents’ accident was coupled with the promise from Signor Fabrizi, the underboss, that my brother and I would be looked after by the new don, and so long as we did everything he and the don asked of us, our loyalty wouldn’t be questioned.
The three-caret symbol of my captivity was proof I was obedient.
I lifted my wine glass and drained it in two gulps. A waiter came to fill it. I felt the gaze from across the table but knew better than to look at the strega. Cecilia would have words with me about the amount of wine I consumed over the course of this painful evening. Well, screw her. Tonight, I was stealing a bottle, or two, and spending a pleasant evening in my room with a book.
Not that I would be able to relax and read with the twin blooms staring at me.
I drummed my fingers against my thigh. Maybe I missed something behind the meaning of the gift. Fancy chocolates, which were already eaten, and red flowers were—
Oh, shit.
What if they had to do with an entirely different secret than rebellion? Red roses were synonymous with romance. That couldn’t be it. Someone had amorous feelings for me? They couldn’t! I couldn’t risk it. Participating would be certain death.
Who left them?
A few of the girls had brothers, or it could be one of them. I cradled my wine against my chest, gaze running up and down their faces. Regardless, they couldn’t have me. I was trapped, and mine wasn’t the only life at stake. It would take a true monster from myth and legend to destroy the current landscape of this nightmare. Total destruction would be the only path to escape, but something of that magnitude would be messy and probably uncontrollable.
***
Dinner lasted another hour, and then it took forty minutes before I could steal my wine and slip away. I stomached all the niceties that I could. The ass kissing, the underhanded jabs, and false compliments—it was nauseating. I needed to scream. Thankfully, there were pillows for that.
I bolted up the back stairs and slid into the safety of my bedroom.
Shutting my door and leaning against the wood, I let out a long breath. Ten seconds to breathe. That was the time I allowed myself. I pushed forward, stumbling to kick off my heels as I moved. I tossed both bottles on the bed. They were prized vintages and very expensive. The don imported them exclusively to show off to his important friends. And now, I would enjoy them. My fingers scrambled to tug at the zipper of my dress. The material strained as I discarded it over my head. In half a minute I was finally comfortable in an oversized tee.
I turned and pinned the twin blooms with a hate-filled glare. “You two. What the hell?”
Snatching a bottle opener from my vanity drawer, I pulled the first cork free. It was a pity I had neither decanter nor glass to properly enjoy these beauties. With a shrug, I took a swig. The tasty liquid was still damn strong, and my buzz would come back quickly. Dry red goodness filled my mouth as I powered up my laptop. I typed red rose into the search bar of the internet browser. Results populated. I took another swig of wine before perusing the synopses. One article after another filled my screen.
Overpowering love, blinding adoration, and passionate devotion were the meanings.
I frowned at the computer window. There was nothing about rebellion or secret alliances, except the history regarding the Red Rose of Lancaster from Medieval England. But it was doubtful anyone was using that historical reference to coax me into a mob war. We were Italians, they wouldn’t think of such an obscure symbol.
No, it had to be the original meaning: Romance.
“Okay, someone is fucking with me,” I grumbled, leaning back and taking a long pull of the wine. No one felt that way about me. They only saw me as a means to an end. In my world, relationships were an exchange of power or wealth. Attachments were only formed with strings, tight and binding, spreading out to form an inescapable web. I huffed. “Clearly, someone wants to use the ploy of romance for some nefarious purposes.”
I couldn’t allow this. Nothing could screw up the deal I made with the underboss and the don. If I married Alonzo, Gio could reach adulthood. It was as simple as that.
A sudden, overwhelming ache spread across my chest. Standing on unsteady feet, I padded to my door and ghosted into the hall. Gio was likely downstairs, playing those stupid video games with his dorky friends. I had to see him. If there was someone determined to overthrow the current setup, we were in danger. Gio was in danger!
The patter of my bare feet echoed loudly to my ears. Pressing a hand over my heart, I steadied myself. A delicious buzz sang in my veins, but that meant my senses weren’t sharp.
I need to be quiet.
Was that creak in the floorboard too loud? Couldn’t I breathe more softly? I furiously tapped my fingers against my bare thighs, forcing my steps to be soft and feathery. One, two—there, just like that. I visualized being a ballerina, floating across the stage. It helped until I nearly lost my balance. Clutching the first solid object, I stopped myself and decided to have no more mental images in this current state of red wine bliss. It wasn’t until I was ghosting along a back corridor that I realized I was in skintight booty shorts and an oversized tee.
Oh, shit.
I stopped short at a corridor. Squeezing my hands tight, I glanced over my shoulder. I could run back upstairs. But…Gio. I needed to make sure he was okay. Panic bubbled through me. The deep breath couldn’t calm the suffocating need to see my only relative—my only reason to exist.
Please don’t let anyone catch me.
I sprinted forward. Turning sharply at the next hallway, I crashed into a wall. A warm, living wall.
“Oof,” I breathed.
Two hard hands shot out, blocking my escape.
The fuzzy feeling in my brain sizzled out in a flash, and details of my situation started to form. The thick shadows shrouded the stranger’s face. But the height and build, the strength of those hands, and even the smell told me this was a man-man.
Man-man? Oh, what the heck, you dork.
“Excuse me, I didn’t know anyone was back here,” I said, pleased that my voice didn’t shake.
I took a step back, attempting to put some distance between myself and the mass of man-man. His grip lowered to my wrists. In one smooth move, he spun me and pinned my face against the wall.
A sharp gasp filled my lungs.
Caged by his body, the scent surrounded me. It was heady and intense, laced with spicy notes. Smokey. With something lush and woodsy underneath.
And…familiar.
Where had I smelled this before?
The stranger lifted one arm, his thumb circling over the inside of my wrist. It dawned on me! He was feeling my racing pulse. Something primal rose in response, beating the drum that was my heart into a furious battle cry. I should be frightened. I should fight. But instead, I wet my lips.
His voice was pure gravel. “Have you been drinking, malen'kaya printsessa?”
Busted. “No.”
He lifted both of my arms, pinning them high above my head with one of his incredibly large hands. The other? It trailed down the length of my side, starting along my arm and blazing a path down my ribs. Lulled by the seductive feel of his touch, I yelped when his hand snaked out to capture my chin.
“You reek of alcohol,” he whispered. The menace under his words might as well have been a whip. It crackled across my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
Wait a second. Wait just one damn second! What had he called me? That language rolled off his tongue like the rumble of a great forest beast. It wasn’t rooted in romanticism. No, it was something more…barbaric. An Eastern European tongue.
Printsessa. Princess.
As my brain scrambled to filter the information, my tongue ran away with itself. “I can’t reek, because wine isn’t alcohol.”
He let out a sneer of disgust.
That brought the fight to my veins. “It’s not your business what I do, phantom,” I snapped.
“On the contrary, Isabella , it is.” His touch forced my head to the side, and his nose brushed the length of my neck. It was his turn to inhale deeply. “I can’t have anyone stumbling upon you in this state. They might try to take what is mine.”
My body felt like it was going to explode.
His hot breath whispered over the too sensitive skin of my neck. “Don’t worry, rusalka, I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
But then his touch was gone. I collapsed into the wall. I blinked. Once. Twice. And turned sharply to see—
Nothing.
I was alone.
The darkness swallowed everything, including the scent. I took a deep breath, trying and failing to feel him. The air cleared quickly.
My body was alive with a thousand sparks. I lifted my fingers to my chin. I could have sworn there was residual heat left over from the contact. But that too was fast fading.
What the hell was that? Without any concrete evidence, I knew that was the same spectral presence who’d been in my room the other night.
I shook my head, trying to clear the overpowering surge. When common sense clicked on in my mind, the truth was blinding. There was a creep walking around the don’s home. The smart thing to do would be to alert the guards.
“But then I would have to admit what happened,” I huffed. That was not a conversation I wanted to have. Sneaking around the house and being cornered by a stranger as I tried to find my brother.
Gio.
I bolted. The possibility of again running into the intruder didn’t slow my steps. I tore down the long halls until I burst through the door of the media room.
Rapid gunfire greeted me. Where was the attack? I needed to save Gio!
Shit, where’s my gun?!
A scream formed on my lips. The noise suddenly stopped.
“Izzy? Are you okay?” Gio stared at me with a look of mixed horror and annoyance.
His pervy little friends fixed their gaze on the exposed skin of my legs.
I glared at them but answered my brother. “I was just making sure you were okay.”
“Yeah, just playing some Call of Duty to wind down from the dinner party.” He tugged on the back of his neck. “Um, ah…did you want to play?”
His friends groaned in protest.
“No thanks,” I panted, since my lungs still weren’t working well. “Just came down to make sure you were okay. Don’t drink too many of those.”
I nodded to the cans of soda.
That earned me an eye roll.
“I know, I’m so uncool.” I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “But rotten teeth and unstable blood sugar aren’t cool either.”
“We’ll brush our teeth,” Gio promised.
It sucked not connecting with him. I was always saying the wrong thing. But he was safe. And he was going to stay that way.
With a wave, I turned and left. The way back to my room wasn’t haunted by the phantasmal presence. I was almost…sad.