Chapter 15 – Isabella
Y ou were my fantasy. A dream lover. And now he was here, my own personal tormentor. I chose this stranger because he was unconnected to the Italian Families of Chicago. An easy target, he was every bit the bad boy I craved. My illicit hookup should have been with someone safe. A nobody college student wouldn’t have hunted me across the country and proceeded to incinerate my life.
Stupid! So stupid.
I ground my molars. This stronzo wouldn’t win!
“You have to leave me alone,” I insisted. In every respect, this man currently had the upper hand. He could do whatever he wanted with me, and I wouldn’t be able to save myself. Still, the adrenaline coursing through me didn’t care. There was no proper fear. I didn’t want to examine that phenomenon.
As he caressed the flower, fingers hovering near my skin, I realized I didn’t even know his name. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask, but I swallowed the urge. We didn’t need to fix the disadvantage. I didn’t need to give the nameless shadow haunting my dreams a stronger thread to reality.
His touch dropped to my cheek. Traitorous instincts rose in my body, and my eyes fluttered closed.
“I think not.” The tip of his fingers drew down to my mouth. “Did you forbid me kissing you that night, so you could save those for your husband?”
The wrath packed in that question made my heart shudder. Oh, Madonna!
I jerked away, but he gripped my chin. “Let me go,” I hissed.
“I could take it, you know,” he growled, leaning forward until he was a hair’s distance from my mouth. “I could steal that one thing that you refused me.”
“Don’t,” I said, hating the tremor seeping into my voice against my will. And then, I begged. “Please…. Don’t do that.”
Maybe it was my please, maybe it was my tone. Either way, the monster backed up with a hiss of disgust. The grip on my chin tightened. “I’m coming for you, Isabella. This is your warning.”
Just hearing him claim my name brought the fight to a head in my veins. I couldn’t believe I felt anything akin to fondness just because he’d invaded my personal space and left me gifts. I was a pathetic, attention-starved girl.
But no more.
Those feelings were gone! He could leave all the most thoughtful gifts in the world, and it wouldn’t change the way I felt about him. He was here to ruin me.
Not if I destroy him first.
I grabbed his biceps and dug my fingers into the flesh, refusing to swoon at the hard muscle beneath my touch. This man was built like a fucking tree, but even the mightiest trees fell under the touch of fire.
“I defy you, diavolino. Men worse than you have tried to tear me apart, and I’m still here.” I was crazy. Certifiable. In over my freaking head.
A dark chuckle that I felt to my very bones brushed against me. Ilya dropped his hold and took a step back. “Let the games begin, sweet siren.”
In the seconds it took him to leave the room via a back door that I hadn’t noticed, I couldn’t draw a proper breath. But as the door fell into place, a trickle of oxygen returned to my lungs. Holy shit. Describing that encounter as intense was an understatement.
My fingers reached to my cheek and traced the place he’d held me in that unforgiving grip. Now that I knew who my personal poltergeist was and had a vague idea of what he wanted, I could begin to prevent his further advances. This monster wasn’t winning whatever messed up game we were playing.
“Miss Rinaldi?” The goon with the crooked nose grumbled, stepping into the door. “Is everything alright?”
I jumped.
It was embarrassing and contradicted every assertion I made. The truth was, I was a mess. Between acting for the don and the underboss, tolerating the don’s sister, and the trauma of the last year, my nerves were shredded.
“I’m fine,” I gasped.
“What’s taking so long?” the second bodyguard muttered under his breath.
I pursed my lips. “I’ll take as damn long as I please,” I said in my best peeved suburban wife voice. The archetypal Karen would be so proud.
The goon had the grace to blush.
“It’s just….” The man shifted in place, gaze darting back and forth.
As if he could feel the bad energy from the devil recently haunting this space.
“This is the Sokolov territory,” the first guard whispered, and his fingers twitched.
The other lifted his hand and….
Did he just cross himself? I worked my jaw back and forth. I knew that surname; every child of the underworld heard it used in place of the boogeyman. It was the family name of one of the most ruthless crime organizations in the country.
I hadn’t realized we were on their turf.
Sliding a quick glance to the back door, I couldn’t help but wonder why my Chicago monster chose this flower shop instead of any other in the sprawling urban landscape that scarred the East Coast.
It doesn’t matter! The Rinaldi Famiglia had ruled just over the river with a feared ruthlessness for decades. And now look at the indomitable front our guards presented! Weakness and fear, a detrimental combination.
“The Sokolovs are at peace with our famiglia,” I snapped, walking past the bodyguard and into the flower shop.
“How did you find the displays?” the woman asked.
That accent…. It was Eastern European. While he sounded American with no discernable accent, it couldn’t be a coincidence that my stalker chose this place, in this territory. I knew he wasn’t connected to any Italian mobs in Chicago, but what if he had other underworld connections? I swallowed hard. It would explain a lot.
“I enjoyed them immensely.” That much was true. “Thank you for showing me your beautiful displays.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” Her withered cheeks brightened with a rosy shade as she smiled. It was warm and genuine. “Here’s the number you asked for. A direct line of communication, should you need any help with your botanical needs.”
Between her soft, knotted fingers was a sleek business card. There was a sunflower on it. Since I already had the floral shop’s card—a glance to the side confirmed the ones in the display case were the same—I could only think that this was different. This was his card.
Swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat, I snatched the card as if it would burn me.
“We’ll be in touch,” I told the woman.
Tension visibly eased from her shoulder. The woman bobbed her head. “Call anytime.”
I followed the guards outside and climbed into the waiting vehicle. The short drive back across the river and into familiar territory was occupied by a swirling vortex of thoughts. He found me. He was haunting me. He was going to ruin everything. I stared out the window, not seeing the streets or buildings, the people or cars. The world as I knew it was upside down, and I couldn’t for the life of me think how to right it. I had to do something. There had to be a way to chase the monster from the dark.
But despite every logical reason and good sense, part of me didn’t want him to leave, because then I would be all alone, swallowed by the terrible nightmares of reality. That was the real reason I didn’t tell the don the moment we arrived back at the mansion, continuing to believe the lie that I could handle the nightmare on my own.