Chapter 19 – Isabella
T rying not to fidget, I stood next to Alonzo and made small talk with the don of the Conti Famiglia. This was bad. This was so very, very bad. And not the fact that Gio was trying to sneak off and drink with Cosimo Fabrizi. Whereas the son was simply pulling an adolescent stunt, Signor Fabrizi was taking idiocy to a whole new level. What was the underboss thinking, bringing a fighter to our private celebration with the Conti Famiglia? Knowing Tullio, the underboss no doubt wanted to show his prized fighter off. It would serve them right if the Russian outed them. While I had no proof, it was inconceivable that the cage fighter didn’t know who and what his sponsor, and his sponsor’s friends, were.
My gaze fluttered around the room, once again trying to find my stalker. After the incident with the lemon tart, he’d simply…disappeared.
“Open.”
That dark command hummed in my veins. A rush of heat tingle between my legs. Oh, Madonna Mio, I was screwed. Royally—royally screwed.
Tugging at the high lace neckline, I breathed through the restrictive vice that was the dress. It was a pretty dress, but the seams scratched me mercilessly. The hem draped on the floor, and I could only take small steps or risk tripping again. The supportive material of the bodice covered my chest, but stop to let the sheer fabric create the illusion of showing skin up to my throat. The whole gown was overlayed in the sheer material, and floral patterns were embroidered into the delicate fabric with small beads to accent petals. It wouldn’t be so bad if my hair wasn’t scraped into a tight chignon at the back of my head and my ears weren’t weighed down with South Pacific pearls. I might not be able to breathe, let alone move, but I looked like a knockout.
Back in the dazzling party, the violent events from less than an hour ago on the balcony seemed like a dream.
I smiled at Don Leonardo Conti. “That is fascinating. I’ve never heard of those grapes being blended to make such a wine.”
The don’s watery eyes blinked at me, while his tubby son’s openly raked my body. I was the prized Rinaldi, and it was absolutely necessary I was shown off. Positioned between Alonzo and his father, at least I was out of the Contis’ accidental reach.
“I’ll have to send you a bottle, first thing tomorrow for your Sunday lunch,” Don Leonardo asserted magnanimously.
While the chatter droned on, my mind wandered. He was here. My secret romance, the man from the Chicago club, the one I chose for myself, found me. Part of me wanted to rejoice, make plans to be with him. Just one more time….
He’s a cold-blooded killer.
I thought seeing him fight in the underground circuit was a shock. But tonight, the spectre exploded out of the darkness and took down the half dozen assailants purposely sent to pick a fight with Alonzo and me. All for the sick amusement of the two dons and to show off the prize of the underboss.
I asked him not to kill the last man. And the phantom obeyed.
Elijah. It didn’t fit. No, he was something—something more. There was hunger in his piercing grey gaze. I felt its pull, and like a magnet, my soul fluttered in response.
It seemed the Russian cage fighter was sent to taunt me with what I could never have.
Sighing, my gaze flicked across the room. Dressed in a tux that made him look like a penguin, Gio stood straight and tall with some of the other Rinaldi soldiers. These were recently sworn members of our organization, and no doubt were filling my brother’s head with hope that he could serve as an associate and move up the ranks to full-fledged member of our Famiglia.
At least Cosimo seemed to have disappeared as well. Whatever Alonzo said sent the troublemaker away. While I couldn’t keep Gio from mob life, I needed to find a way to irradicate that pest from his circle of friends. I hated Cosimo Fabrizi. Evil wafted from him like a bad cloud of energy. He hadn’t done any singular thing to make me feel that way, but it was the combined smaller things that sent a pulse of dread through me every time he came around. Which, since my parents’ deaths, was often. The Fabrizi might as well have moved into the mansion with the Brunos, when Aldo became don. But thankfully the underboss kept his own mansion a few miles down the road. Still, Gio idolized the demonic sonofabitch, and nothing short of Cosimo’s death would keep them apart.
I could do it. I could kill the little Fabrizi.
Especially when I thought of the girl he brutally assaulted in our private high school. She had to leave, go to a reformed school out west. No one ever held Cosimo responsible because there wasn’t enough evidence to prove it was him.
And that wasn’t the worst thing he’d done.
I found myself scanning the crowd yet again. When I chose the Russian, it was supposed to be my secret romance. It was supposed to leave me content for my lot in life as a bartering chip for my father’s reign. Only, one taste of the man from the Chicago nightclub, and I found myself an addict. The withdrawal was only bearable given the distraction of the change of leadership here.
Now that my drug of choice was back, it was all I could do not to rush into his arms for another hit. I was too closely watched. There was no way I could enjoy his embrace and hope to survive not being caught.
“And so, the deal with the Conti Famiglia will make us an invincible force here on the East Coast,” Don Aldo said with ill-concealed glee.
It was hard not to wonder how long this business marriage would last. Without a blood tie, it was just words that could be taken back and signed papers that could be destroyed.
“Your daughter, Giulietta, is nearly sixteen, is she not?” Aldo added.
Dread trickled down my spine. I knew where that comment was going before he said as much.
“She is.” The Conti don nodded eagerly. “Blessed with beauty, she practices virtue as if it were her religion.”
I wanted to gag. It was the same way they talked about me at her age. In fact, they still did. Little did they know that was the one choice I made sure I had a say about—I picked who, I picked when. Not wanting to be the prized virgin, I took that title away and buried it in the Windy City. I treasured my secret.
My secret that visited me in the dark, broke into my room, and tried to soften the announcement of his presence with gifts. Because why the hell else would a Russian cage fighter leave me bath salts and special edition romantasy novels?
I can’t end up liking him. I had to see Elijah for what he was—trouble.
The don’s next words sent an earthquake through the feeble foundation that was my world, drawing me out of my own internal pity party.
“I have a nephew. Giovanni is about her age,” Aldo mused, not using the term correctly since we had no familial relation to the don. We weren’t related to the Bruno family, but it was how we spoke about them. “They’re young yet, but perhaps he should start coming to your house for Sunday dinners?”
He’s fourteen! I had to bite the inside of my cheek so as not to scream.
How could I expect anything less? We were pawns in this game.
“I’ll invite your whole family for dinner,” the Conti boss said magnanimously.
“And we’ll do the same,” Aldo added quickly. “In fact, we’re having a small gathering this Sunday after mass. We would be delighted if you and your family joined us.”
“Would your daughter like to come out with us some Saturday night?” Alonzo spoke up, surprising me enough that I cut a look to him.
I wasn’t the only one.
“What do you mean?” his father said sharply.
Color spread across Alonzo’s cheeks, and his gaze dropped to his shoes. I wanted to smack the don. They scolded him for not being active in the family dealings, but when he did try, they were the first ones to correct him.
“A bunch of us are going to the haunted battleship down at the wharf,” Alonzo muttered.
I slid my hand into his, hoping he found the contact comforting and not intrusive. “That’s right, darling. It’s a young people thing, a silly Americani tradition.”
Alonzo shuffled closer to me, a small signal that he was grateful for the rescue.
“It would be good for them to bond as young people,” Alonzo added quietly. “Not just forced into the formality of famiglia social events.”
The Conti boss narrowed his eyes. “Many marriages were formed on business deals.”
“And successful ones are founded on mutual respect that grows into partnerships,” I countered.
The Conti father agreed, and mercifully, the conversation came to an end. I drew Alonzo away to find the bar before his father could berate him for offering the suggestion. Arguably, it was a good idea. But since mafia princesses were prized creatures, Alonzo’s delivery could have been perceived as inappropriate.
“Two rum and cokes,” I ordered, sagging against the counter.
Alonzo flexed and stretched the hand I released. “I don’t mind you touching me, Isabella.”
Shooting him a sideways glance, I fumbled for words. I knew Alonzo pretty well, but even a stranger would easily see the don’s son didn’t care for physical contact.
“You could do it more,” he added softly.
“Since we’re going to have to consummate this”—I gestured between us—“I should hope you don’t mind us touching.”
The poor thing blanched.
“Don’t worry, Lonzo.” I slapped his back and pushed the drink to him. “Porn Hub is full of tutorials. You’ll figure out what you’re supposed to do, and together we’ll muddle through it.”
Which was exactly how a girl wanted to think of future romantic encounters. Scripted, formal acts of sex—how exciting. Maybe I could teach him? Or invest in good toys? I put the drink to my lips and started draining it.
“I know what to do,” he said quietly. “I’m not a virgin.”
I choked.
Those soft brown eyes looked up from under straight lashes to watch me. “Are you disappointed?”
“No,” I gasped, smacking my chest before flagging down the bartender. “Another. Make it a double.”
This moment of trust was sudden and almost intimate. My quirky fiancé was choosing to open up to me. What had I started?!
“It was before our marriage was arranged,” Alonzo continued.
For the love of heaven, stop! I was going to laugh at him. This man was only four years younger than me, but his innocence and shyness made it feel more like a decade. The serious tone in his voice showed how much this bothered him. He probably was worried about disappointing me.
“It didn’t mean anything,” he insisted.
“I’m sure it didn’t.” It was on the tip of my tongue to say I was the same. But my guardian angel kept my lips sealed. Alonzo wouldn’t purposely tell. But since it was my duty to protect my virginity, he might think it his duty to inform the don that I was unfit.
Oh, Madonna! I was going to have to fake blood on the bedsheets, wasn’t I? The hysterical idea threatened to make me double over.
I gulped my second drink and turned my gaze to the crowd. The rum promised to give me a delicious buzz. That plus the never-ending finger food was going to sustain me through another week of torture disguised as wedding preparation. Pulling the carbonated goodness through the tiny straw, I hoped I got good and drunk. This party to celebrate the business merger between the two mobs was not only boring, but it was also depressing. Also horrific and terrible, if I considered the stunt on the balcony. I needed a distraction to make it through the rest of the evening. Something. Anything!
Not the pair of grey eyes staring back at me.
My blood suddenly turned to ice.
No, that wasn’t right. It burned. My veins were liquid fire. Molten and alive. I took a step in his direction. His gaze hardened, the grey shimmering and morphing into almost…silver. The forbidden call of this wrath-filled figure sent a rush of heat between my legs.
A soft whimper twitched in my throat.
The Russian cage fighter mouthed something to me. I tipped my head to the side, staring at the spectre. It was strange seeing the phantasmal shape outside of the shadows.
“DOWN!” The silent word roared through the space between us.
The survival instinct that was bred into my genes screamed at me to listen. I dropped gracelessly, the tight cut of the dress not giving me enough room to move properly.
“Lonzo!” I hissed, tugging his pant leg.
My fiancé cocked his head. The confusion on his face would have been comical if the shooting hadn’t started to ring out all around the room.
Wrapping my arms around the skinny chicken legs, I pulled Alonzo down. Only once he was safe—safe being a poor word—did I look around. Through the chaos, it was clear a third party was attacking us. I glared at the mountain of a Russian, who walked through the gunfire as if it were a light summer rainfall.
How dare he come in here and start killing us—
“Gio!” I screamed, rearing up.
Where was he? I couldn’t see him. He didn’t have a gun to defend himself. Oh, dio! What if he did have a gun?! He would try to prove himself!
“I’ll get him,” Alonzo declared, pushing me back down.
Before I could stop the soft prince, he was off, ducking and scuttling along the floor.
I drug my fingers through my hair, pulling it from the tight restraints, gaze darting wildly about to find any sign of my little brother.
“Will you get the fuck down,” a terrible voice growled.
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back. With a scream, I struck. My nails clawed across his cheek, sinking into the flesh.
“Knock it off!” he menaced.
Grabbing me around the waist, the cage fighter hauled me against his body and then he was running. His large, solid frame shielded me from the bullets.
The warmth of cedar and spice didn’t lull me. Didn’t make me draw a deeper breath, nor clutch his shirt in my fists. I refused to admit he had that kind of power over me, even as my body proved that he did.
The pop of a rifle sounded too close.
“Let me go, you monster, let me go!” I raged. “My brother is out there.”
The Russian grunted. “He has the combined weight of the Contis and Rinaldis behind him. If they can’t protect him—”
My heel collided with his groin. The Russian lurched. I used the moment of weakness to disentangle my hands and lash out with every ounce of force I had.
It would have been impressive, if the beast didn’t shove me into the wall, pinning my hands at my side.
“Please,” I whispered. “He’s just a kid.”
“Young men grow up in moments like these,” he said harshly.
I could barely gulp enough air into my lungs to form more words. “And yet they aren’t immune to Russian bullets!”
“Russian?” the monster snapped.
“You’re attacking my people, you sick, twisted asshole! I don’t know who you are or how you did it, but I know you’re behind this attack. You and the Sokolov Bratva,” I shouted, but my voice turned to a hoarse whisper.
He shook me, making my teeth clack in my mouth. “It’s another Italian mob, you little idiot.”
I stilled.
“Yeah, that surprises you, doesn’t it?” he spat. “Other than obtaining the Sokolov’s permission to be in the city, I have no connections with them or any other East Coast organization.”
So this mysterious man, who tracked me across the country, fought in the underground circuits, and wormed his way into our inner circle wasn’t a criminal himself? The picture I’d painted in my head suddenly fell flat. I was so sure that was a logical conclusion!
But reevaluating the shifting circumstances would have to wait.
“Then my brother really is in danger,” I insisted. “He’s the late don’s son; he’ll be a target!”
With a growl, the spectre released me. “Do us both a favor and stay right here. Can you handle that, princess?”
I glared at him over my shoulder. But he was already retreating into the event space.
He’s here.
He’s not attacking us.
He saved me. But…to what end?
I stayed in the hall for approximately twenty seconds. Where my brother’s life was concerned, no one else would take responsibility while I sat idly by and watched. My heartbeat drummed against my ribs, a relentless beat that threatened to drill a hole through the bones. Stepping up to the door, I peered around the aperture.
Chaos reigned. Blood painted the scene. Shouts rang out in a symphony of confusion.
But I saw it. The group attacking us was clearly similar in cultural heritage to us. Even their calls and barked orders were familiar to my ears. I gripped the doorframe hard as my gaze darted about, searching for any sign of my beloved sibling.
Gio was nowhere to be seen.
A metallic tang burst over my tongue, but I didn’t stop worrying the inside of my cheek. The molars threatened to mush the tissue into a pulp.
A soldier stood up from behind a table, gun extended and barrel aimed. He fired three times before his body whipped back violently. As he collapsed, the bright red dot bloomed over his forehead.
I sucked in a sharp breath. I might be a princess of the Italian mob, but this was my first battle. The twisted part was that it would have been exhilarating. My fingers even itched for a weapon to join the ranks of our soldiers. If I wasn’t so worried over the safety of my brother—
Movement to the left caught my gaze. Alonzo’s shock of brown hair was visible behind the half-dozen men guarding him. No…not men. One of them had more swarthy features and a little fuzz on his upper lip.
Gio. Gio!
What the hell was he doing defending the don’s son? I stepped out of my hiding place, ready to protect and save him. A piece of balding meat appeared as if out of thin air and pushed me backward. I gaped at the squat man.
“What do we have here?” he lisped, moving forward and crowding me.
I shot a glance over his shiny head to see Alonzo’s group make it through the doors and away from the shooting. My shoulders sagged in relief. Gio was safe.
Turning all my attention on the advancing man, I arched a brow and glared at him. “Get out of my way.”
A sickening chortle bubbled from his lips. “You’re the Rinaldi princess. You’re worth half a mill, but boss didn’t say anything about not sampling the goods.”
That answered which side he was on.
I could take him. Not in this dress, but I could take him. I took three steps backward, only to slam into a mound of flesh.
“Got her,” a voice husky from cigarettes rasped.
Panic flashed through me, but I swallowed it. Long ago, kneeling beside my mother, I made a vow that I would never be defenseless. She saw to it that I wasn’t. I’d never killed a man, but there was a first time for everything. I didn’t struggle, which meant the clammy fingers around my wrist didn’t grip too hard.
“Move,” Cigarettes barked.
I obeyed. We turned and began to walk down the hallway. I could have seconds to make a break, grab my weapon, and fire. Deep breaths filled my lungs. They forced a sense of calm to slide over my muscles.
Timing my steps just right, I lifted my shoe a bit higher and stomped hard. The stiletto gouged through the soft shoe top. I ripped my arm away, fumbling with the skirt to grasp my gun. The material pulled wrong, and I couldn’t reach it.
Two shots fired in rapid succession.
I froze.
My heart galloped. When pain didn’t spread over any particular place, I drew a breath into my lungs.
“You can’t even follow the simplest instructions,” the voice of darkness growled.
Spinning, I locked eyes with his terrible gaze. Those eyes were storm clouds, and thunder clapped in their depths.
“Don’t bother making excuses,” the monster snapped, leaning over the bald attacker. “I saw you peeking out the doorway like a saints-damned idiot.”
Hiking my skirt, my fingers clutched my weapon, and I pointed the pistol at him. Satisfaction bloomed in my chest. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
The Russian flicked a condescending look over me before a sickening crack sounded. He shot the bald one in the knee. To wound….
Advancing, my stalker knelt over Cigarettes. This attacker was conscious. My midnight monster stared down at him, muttering something guttural and harsh.
I didn’t need to understand the words to know the meaning was the call of death.
Cigarettes knew it too. It should have been hard to watch a grown man turn into a blubbering mess, calling for his mother in broken dialect. I took a step closer, relishing the thrill of knowing his end was near and he would never hurt me.
The Russian cage fighter put his hand around the thick throat, making the body part look small under his large hands. His thumbs pressed down, cutting off the airflow.
“Did you understand what he was saying?” the Russian asked over his shoulder.
“Yes.”
Cigarettes was Napolitano. A faction of Camorra, probably.
“And?” The Russian held the writhing man as if he were a toy.
I kicked Cigarettes’ arm away, leaning my weight into my heel and crushing the hand to the ground. I added a vicious twist for good measure. No one touched me, especially not a rodent like this. “He called for heaven to help him before he prayed to his mother for salvation.”
We remained silent as the man fell into weak twitching and then went still.
Only then did the Russian remove his deadly grip.
“Why did you help me?” I demanded.
The monster lifted his eyes to meet mine. Those cold, colorless depths hid such incredible violence. Staring into them had my heart beating wildly.
“No one threatens you and lives,” he growled, rising in one swift move and capturing my chin in an unforgiving grasp. He stared down at me, unapologetic in his callousness.
“Except you, phantom?” I scoffed.
His eyes burned silver. “Excuse me?”
While keeping a tight grasp on my weapon, I stabbed an accusing finger toward him. “Don’t you realize what will happen to me when they find out—and they will, it’s only a matter of time—that I have a gigantic cage fighter stalking me? That he sneaks into my room while I’m sleeping?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “They won’t find out.”
“What’s this to you? Hmm? Am I just some toy to play with?” I laughed roughly, ignoring his stony response. “I’m done with games, Elijah. Go ahead. Take your best shot. Break what few pieces are left intact.”
Some emotion, something close to pain, crossed his features. My chest constricted in response. I didn’t like to see that on him. My fingers itched to reach out and comfort him. But I pushed the odd reaction away. This man just admitted he wanted to destroy everything I held dear.
“Know this,” I added, moving into his space and not fighting the hold on my chin. “I won’t go down without a fight. I will claw and struggle until the darkness claims me.”
A terrible moment passed where neither of us spoke. In the silent battle of wills, we were an equal match.
“Lower your gun and save your bullets for the enemies out there,” he said, voice thick with an emotion I couldn’t name.
Disobeying, I dug the barrel into his side. “Go back to Chicago, Elijah.”
He bent low, his cheek grazing against mine. The contact sent a terrible thrill through me. “Ilya. My name is Ilya, the other is the Anglicized version.”
My throat worked hard to swallow past the thick lump lodged there.
“And know this, sweet siren: It would be easier to ask the winter wind to stay away now that I’ve found you.” His dark promise wrapped around me, shrouding me in the most delicious and sensual shadow.
A terrible boom, followed by a volley of gunfire broke down the hall. It might as well have been in another time and place, so captivated was I with his presence.
“Bombs,” the spectre rasped. With inhuman speed, he disarmed me, spun me around, and pushed me forward. “Move!”
I lunged for my gun, but the effort was futile. It made me feel childish, this big brute of a man holding my weapon out of my reach. The Russian growled at me, and whatever he said didn’t sound nice. The next second, his arm was around my waist, and he hauled me off my feet as if I were a limp rug.
Beating against his thighs was useless.
Cold air blasted against my bare skin. I quit fighting him long enough to look up and examine my surroundings.
“There’s fighting around the vehicles in the front parking lot,” my stalker clipped out.
Gio!
I struggled and bucked.
“Will you quit?” He bounced me hard.
“My brother,” I panted.
“Has escaped with the don and his imbecile of a son.” The cage fighter set me down unceremoniously on the ground.
“Don’t call him that! Ever,” I hissed and smacked my fist into the hard mass of chest. “Alonzo is not an imbecile.”
Something in my tone made the monster pause.
“He’s special. And a really nice guy.” I punctuated each statement with another jab.
The Russian caught my fingers. “Nice guys don’t survive our world, Isabella.”
“I know,” I growled. “He’s a sitting duck, an easy target! Someone is going to take him out for the fun of if someday. But not while I’m there. I won’t let them. I won’t let anyone hurt him, or my brother!”
His lips pressed into a thin line. My gaze dropped to them, remembering how they felt against my body.
“Take these and drive straight to your palace. Can you manage that?” he drawled, dropping keys into my hand.
I narrowed my gaze, snapping it to his. “Yes, jackass. I don’t need a babysitter.”
A dark smirk pulled at his lips. He leaned down so that his frame closed around me. “No, princess, what you need is an attitude adjustment.”
“Oh, and I suppose you think yourself capable of giving it to me,” I sneered.
His hand shot out, snatching my wrist, and he spun me around. There was a split second before his palm cracked across my ass.
I gasped, eyes popping wide. Did he just—
A second and a third swat fell on my backside. The layers of material might as well have been tissue thin. My skin tingled from the contact. Thankfully there was little light out here, because my cheeks infused with heat, just as wetness pooled between my legs. I struggled between indignation and arousal.
The Russian left me with no time for either. “Now sit your smart ass in that car and get the fuck out of here.”
Shooting him a glare that promised retribution, I wrenched the door open and slid into the driver’s seat. He held my stare for a second before the door slammed and he smacked the hood.
Infuriating ass! I stomped on the gas, hoping his foot caught under the tire. No such luck.