Chapter 35 – Isabella
I finally pushed the door open and stepped into my room, a wave of relief crashing over me the moment I crossed the threshold. The soft, familiar scent of lavender puffed from the diffuser and wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. The criminal underworld, with its noise and weight, danger and treachery, stayed behind as I shut the door. I threw the lock for good measure. Not that it would stop any number of the soldiers if they wanted to harm me.
Knee throbbing, I sank onto my bed, the mattress giving way beneath me, and let out a long, shaky breath. It was just me now, in this seemingly safe space where I didn’t have to hold myself together anymore. The walls of my room, covered in knick-knacks and photos that held memories, seemed to hum with quiet understanding. The soft light from the lamp cast a warm glow over everything, gentle and unobtrusive, unlike the harsh brightness of the chandeliers that had burned and drained me. Here, I didn’t need to smile if I didn’t want to, didn’t have to explain or defend how I truly felt.
Trapped. Angry. Frustrated.
The pillows cradled my head as I lay back, closing my eyes and letting the familiar quietness of my room seep into my bones. It was as if every exhale released the tension that had coiled inside me throughout the day. Alone, I didn’t have to pretend to be anything or anyone. I could just...be. The weight that had pressed on my chest all day began to lift, bit by bit, and for the first time in hours, I felt like I could breathe freely again. This was home. This was peace.
And yet, it could vanish in a heartbeat.
Just because there was quietness here didn’t mean it was real. This was an illusion. There was no safe space for a mafia princess. It could all be ripped away by the greed that fueled the souls still congregating on the main floor.
I wanted nothing more than to burrow under the covers and let sleep be my escape from reality.
But my face was caked with goop. There was probably still glass in my knee, which needed to be cleaned better and wrapped tight. It would be long dresses tomorrow to hide the bandage, since drawing the strega’s ire would be nothing short of foolish. No need to remind her of the incident in the kitchen.
“Thank the saints and heavenly host that she didn’t walk in three minutes sooner,” I muttered.
Ilya was a risk taker. His close calls with danger threatened to drag me into irreparable trouble.
And yet the patter of my heartbeat seemed to say it would be worth it .
Shaking my head, I shed my clothing and stepped into a warm, soothing shower. I scrubbed my body raw, indulging in the feeling of stripping away the cares of the world, letting them swirl down the drain.
Grabbing my first aid kit, I left the bathroom, body wrapped in a fluffy towel that soaked up the water from my dripping hair. I planned to wrap the length in the soft beige cloth and then air dry.
Instead, I clenched the thing tight and dropped the kit as my heart nearly exploded. “Mamma Mia!” I squeaked.
A dark chuckle trickled across the room.
I hated how my body warmed to the sound. Okay, hated was the wrong word. Annoyed. Irritated. Something like that.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed, glancing at the door, which was still locked.
“Waiting for you.”
I pursed my lips and tapped my foot on the plush carpet. “Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid this is, Ilya?”
The spectre inclined his chin. “How’s your knee?”
“Fine!” I gathered the kit off the ground and stalked to the bench at the foot of my bed. Snapping it open, I brought out the necessary supplies, only to pause partway through assembling them. This was going to hurt. While I had a higher pain tolerance, digging around in my own flesh for glass would probably make me tear up.
My stalker was not going to see that part of me.
I pushed to my feet, refusing to limp, and went to the dresser to pull out a sleeper set. Keeping my back to the monster, I began to change with the help of the towel as a shield. I risked a peep.
He was being the perfect gentleman, sitting demurely in the armchair across the room and studying a book.
That annoyed me even more.
“Did you escape the party to play peeping tom on me in the shower?” I sassed.
“I didn’t have your invitation to go in there.” He tipped his head to the side, eyes glued to the book.
I wanted him to look! It made no sense, because I kept the towel in place, but I wanted to see the heat in his gaze—feel it burn my skin!
“I didn’t give you an invitation to come here, and yet here you are,” I countered, this time with less venom in my voice.
Ilya closed his eyes and pulled a deep breath into his lungs. “You did, siren. You called me; I’m here.”
I opened my mouth, but he kept speaking.
“You came into my club, you chose me, you gave me…everything.”
My voice turned breathless as my heart pattered in my chest. “And that was all it took for you to chase a stranger—a one-night stand!—across the country?”
“Yes,” came the simple admission.
I groaned, falling into the dresser. His gaze snapped to mine. Nothing could have prepared me for the intensity of that look. It wasn’t a burn, no—oh, no! It was an all-consuming inferno. Ilya kept his gaze pinned to mine, not dropping it to take in the expanse of skin that showed from the towel slipping.
“Where is this going, Ilya?” I breathed. “I’m supposed to be married soon. Even if I could break the engagement, I would never be allowed to have you.”
Something flashed in his gaze. “I’m not letting you go.”
“So, what? You’ll keep stalking and screwing a married woman until we’re caught?” I scoffed, a rough laugh lacing my voice.
“You won’t be marrying him.”
Hope leapt in my heart. “What? What do you mean?”
And then my brain processed his words. This man was a killer and had taken down a capo—probably other soldiers in the famiglia too, disguising their deaths as casualties of the turf war.
“I’m taking you away from here,” Ilya asserted.
That was too good to be true. Laughter, riotous and mocking, bubbled up my throat. I threw my head back and laughed until the tears streamed down my face. And here I thought he had an actual plan. That there could be some way I could be with him that didn’t involve dreams and wishful thinking.
“You don’t believe me?” He’d moved and now stood directly in front of me.
I braced my elbows on the top of the dresser, looking up at him with tear-stained lashes. “No, I don’t.”
“You should.”
“You’re a lunatic.”
Ilya leaned forward, caging me against the furniture. “What I am, Izzy, is a man consumed by the thought of you. I will raze this city to the ground to have you, destroy any threat to your freedom.”
That declaration brought a rush of heat and a blast of cold at the same time. “While I want to be with you, I can’t have you slaughtering my father’s men.”
The muscle in his jaw feathered.
I reached out, brushing the tips of my fingers across it, smoothing the skin and forcing the muscles to relax.
“Every man I killed had his death warrant signed,” he growled. “I was just the delivery man.”
I nodded. “Fine, but there are those who don’t deserve to die.”
He huffed, nostrils flaring. It reminded me of a great bull or bear snuffling about. “You’ve already begged for the life of your precious fiancé.”
I hummed. “I’m talking about the common soldiers. They’ve been brought into this life of crime, it’s all they know. They shouldn’t die because their leadership can’t protect them from a threat.” I tapped his cheek. “Don’t slaughter the whole mob to set me free.”
The curl of his lips was nothing short of lethal. “The foundation, then.”
Were we really bargaining over the lives of the men downstairs? Was their fate a simple discussion in the quiet of my cottagecore bedroom? That seemed…farfetched.
“Who will you kill?” I demanded.
“The captains—”
“Capos,” I corrected.
He rewarded my interruption with a dark look. Heat tingled between my legs. As it happened, I liked contradicting him.
“The capos ,” he snarled, “the underboss, and the don.”
“I want the underboss’s son dead too,” I said. “Like I told you, I think he was behind the assassination that night we were at the docks. Either way, I don’t want him alive to influence my brother.”
Ilya nodded once. “I only killed the sons of the last capo because I found correspondences on their father’s phone of a coup. They wanted to assassinate your family and make those boys the next captains—I mean capos.”
Sadness invaded my heart. My limbs shook, as an overwhelming sense of despair rocked me. I knew there was treachery in the mob. It was right there, staring me in the face every day. But hearing about the betrayal? That made the ghostly premonition real.
“Thank you,” I breathed. “It’s hard to believe the oldest capo, the one who’s been around since my father became don, would do something like that.”
Ilya picked me up and set me on the dresser. His hands drug down my hips, pressing into the flesh of my thighs. “They have to come through me, Izzy. I won’t let them hurt you.”
Could I do this? Could I put myself in his hands completely? I reached out, brushing my hands through his hair. The soft texture was surprising given how short it was. “What’s your favorite sports team?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “The Chicago Blackbirds.”
I tipped my head to the side.
“Hockey,” he clarified.
“Do you skate?” I began to massage his scalp. He leaned his head into my touch, eyes fluttering closed.
“Mhmm,” he murmured. “Not much else to do in Russia in the winter.”
My fingers faltered. “You grew up there? You don’t have any accent!”
His eyes narrowed to slits. Slowly, a long string of foreign words tumbled from his lips. I might not understand the translation, but the meaning was pretty damn clear. Through the rough, clipped cadence flowed a volley of passion. A damp spot formed between my legs.
But the monster left no room for doubt.
He tugged the sleeper shorts. “I didn’t have time to take a proper taste of this the other night.”
His voice was coated with something thick and delicious. A rush of heat pooled between my legs. How the hell did his mere presence turn me on like this? He hadn’t even touched me there and my pussy wept for him.
Dark amusement played along the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile—oh, no! It was the hunger of the wolf before he struck.
“May I taste?”
I cleared my throat, my voice suddenly failing me. The exhale formed one long sound. “Please.”
The humor only grew darker. “Then spread those legs for me, Izzy.”
There was nothing more to do than obey. His hands shot out, clamping my legs in a vise. I couldn’t have moved them back together even if I struggled.
Anticipation shivered through me. Breaths came hard and fast into my lungs. The muscles of my core tightened.
He drew his lips up the inside of my thigh. Hot air exhaled from his lungs and tingled against my sensitive skin. “I’ve dreamed of this.”
A soft kiss pressed at the edge of my thigh. It was probably an inch from where I needed it.
I shifted, delirious to have him.
The wicked chuckle was the only response.
Gripping the edge of my dresser was the last desperate attempt to ground myself. But the first swipe of his tongue sent me into a spiral.
He moaned.
I did that. I made this shadowy being come undone. That was hotter than anything. The slow, teasing breath he blew over my clit made me crazy. With a surge of strength, I pushed my hips up.
His tongue found my clit, brushing over it as excitement raced through my veins. A strangled moan caught in my throat.
I had to be quiet—which was impossible when I needed to scream!
The tip of his tongue flicked against my sensitive bundle of nerves. Once…. Twice….
And then it was gone.
I reared forward in protest only to fall into his firm grasp.
“Easy there,” he growled.
Those strong fingers gripped the material of my thin camisole and tore it in half. The cool air crackled across my skin, making my nipples tighten.
Instead of lowering himself, he captured one of my breasts in his mouth. The sensation was raw. Wild. Pleasure rushed through me on a roaring wind as his tongue rubbed against me. It was rough against my hardened nipple.
But then he sucked hard, pulling back so that his teeth caught against my nipple just before he released me.
His eyes glittered with something dark and dangerous. It made the grey shimmer into a brighter silver—the color of a phantom. A ghostly presence. A spectre . My heart stilled, fainting in the presence of this monster. But anticipation roared inside me.
My knee banged against the wall as I spread wide for him. The cry of pain was cut off when that hard touch slid around to my lower back as he bent and pressed his mouth against my pussy. The contact was pure bliss. My muscles clenched with every lick of his tongue. I rocked into him, finding the rhythm and surrendering to it—to him. He sucked on my clit just long enough to make me see stars, then his tongue roamed farther south. He tasted everything, working his sultry kisses against the entire length of my pussy.
“You’re irresistible when you’re in control like this,” he murmured against me.
A finger pushed inside me.
I had to bite my lower lip so I didn’t cry out.
A second finger slid inside me. They pushed deep, curling to stroke before pulling back to tease.
I bit the side of my hand to muffle the sob that rose out of my throat. The back of my head cracked into the wall.
Not the wall, the framed print.
It swung loose of the mounting, dangling precariously on the side. Ilya’s fingers dug into my legs. It was a silent encouragement to wrap around him. I leaned back again; my hips rocked into his mouth.
“I can’t get enough of your taste, Izzy.” His teeth grazed my clit, pulling it gently, but because of the sensation, it was a rush of electricity.
I shuddered violently. My head banged into the wall.
The picture broke free of its restraints and crashed to the ground. The noise covered the strangled cry of my release.
His voice was rough with need. “You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, sweet siren. When you come undone for me, I feel like I’ve witnessed a fairy goddess of old releasing the magic that carved the valley and raised the mountains.”
Resistance floated away. I was clay, I was putty. I would do whatever this man wanted. With a tongue like that and a mouth like that, how could I let him go?
“I’m never letting you go,” he promised.
Before I could come up with a response to that, a fist banged against my door.