2. Trapped in a Tower
CHAPTER 2
TRAPPED IN A TOWER
I sabella - One Month Later
Dropping the book into my lap, I stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my glass cage and blow out a breath. The deep greens of Central Park stretch out below, calling to me. What I wouldn’t give to once again walk beneath the shade of the towering oaks.
My gaze flits over my arm, to the faint scar puckering the skin over my biceps. My chest constricts, a relentless ache squeezing my lungs. Not from the old bullet wound but from the memory of the man who gave his life for mine.
Fucking Frankie. Why did you have to be so damned noble?
If he hadn’t jumped in front of me, I would be the one six feet under right now. Instead, he took the bullet meant for me. It sliced through his heart, tearing through bone and muscle and then sank into my arm.
Who the hell makes bullets like that?
I stare at the spot on my arm, and my lips curve into a scowl. I don’t remember a whole lot from that night, but the little that I do remember haunts me. Mom had asked if I wanted the scar removed, as if a plastic surgeon could magically scalpel away the bad memories. No, I would keep the scar forever, a constant reminder of Francesco Bellini. It’s stupid, but since the bullet went through him before piercing my arm, I like to think that a part of him is still with me, his blood mingling with my own.
Hot tears well in my eyes, and I blink quickly to force them back. I cried for days after his death, then for another week after the funeral. It’s true what they say about not knowing what you have until you lose it.
I never realized how much I loved my faithful shadow until he was gone. I’d taken him for granted for years without ever truly thanking him. He’d given up everything for me.
Quick footsteps across the marble send my gaze spinning toward the hallway. Vinny appears with a backpack slung over his shoulder. My younger brother regards me in that quiet way he always does. “You good?”
“Of course.” I offer him a cheery smile. “I’m a prisoner in a gilded cage. What could possibly be wrong?”
Rolling his eyes, he drops down to the sofa beside me. “You know, I’m sure Papà would let you leave the penthouse if you just chose a new bodyguard.”
A knife in the gut would’ve hurt less. How can I replace Frankie? More than that, how can I choose the next man to die?
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just live in here forever, like Rapunzel, reading my books, trapped in this tower.”
“Until your prince comes?” A lopsided smile curls his lips, and it’s freaky how much he looks like our father. When Papà smiles, that is, which is a rare occurrence these days unless our mom is in the room.
At eighteen, Vincenzo Valentino, named after my mom’s brother and dad’s best friend who died, is everything I wish I could be. He’s a real free spirit, who marches to the beat of his own drum, even when forced to live in the dark world we inhabit. He has the luxury of being the second born. Despite being born a female, Papà was adamant we stick to traditions naming me his heir, which is pretty fucking unfair considering Uncle Dante is the eldest brother and yet my father runs the family business, even if it is mostly in name only these days.
Vinny could have been pissed, could have fought for his position as eldest male, but he has zero interest in King Industries and even less in its underground dealings. We’re the same in that respect, and despite my chosen career path, Papà insists one day I will take over the business, the legitimate side at least.
A doctor can still run a multi-million-dollar organization, principessa. The Kings’ empire must survive if we wish to .
He’s been trapped in this life for so long he truly believes there’s no escaping it. Going to medical school is my way out, and God willing my father will live a long life and I won’t be forced the take the reins of his legal or criminal empire any time soon.
“Well, I’m going to meet Jess for a coffee.” He stands, his dark brow arching. “You sure you don’t want to come? Dad can send Tony along with my guard. I’m sure even he would agree to that.”
Tony has been Papà ’s right hand man forever. He is like family and rarely gets his hands dirty in the dark side of the business anymore. I shake my head, sighing. I couldn’t stand the thought of having more blood on my hands.
I lift my book and stick my nose between the pages. “I’ll just live vicariously through my best book friends.”
“Suit yourself, Bella.” He hinges at the waist, light eyes fixing to mine. At eighteen he already dwarfs me, which is pretty embarrassing. “But you’re going to have to leave this place eventually. And you will have to choose a guard.”
I cringe at the thought, a surge of icy fingers dancing up my spine. “Maybe…” I whisper. But not today.
“Later, Bella.” He spins toward the door, waving to Gerry on the way out, and I’m so damned jealous as I watch him casually cross the threshold.
I wish I could find the courage…
“ Buon giorno, principessa !” Papà appears at the door juggling a tray of Starbucks and a jar of Nutella in one hand and a bouquet of calla lilies in the other, my mom’s favorite. His dark eyes scan over me like some sort of harm could’ve come to me in the safety of our heavily guarded penthouse in the last twenty minutes since he left. He folds his tall form onto the cushion beside me, places the flowers in a vase on the cocktail table and hands over the Caramel Frappuccino with a disgusted twist to his lips before dropping the jar of my favorite treat in my lap. “Your coffee and breakfast…”
To Papà , if it isn’t a legit Italian espresso from his old school stovetop espresso pot it isn’t real coffee.
I take a sip, and a smile instantly melts across my face. So good … I barely resist the urge to pry open the jar of Nutella and dip my finger inside. But I’ll wait until I’m alone to indulge.
My dad turns to me, something unreadable behind that well-crafted mask. He doesn’t often wear it around his family, which has anxiety bubbling up deep inside. “Isa, your mamma and I have been talking and we feel it is time to find a replacement for Francesco.”
I open my mouth to object, but he cuts me off, raising a hand.
“I know how difficult this is for you, and believe me, there is nothing I like more than having you under my watchful eye. But this is becoming unhealthy.” He motions to the stack of books on the coffee table, then to the fluffy slippers beneath the couch before settling his wary gaze on my pajamas. “It’s been a month, principessa . Frankie wouldn’t want this…”
“How do you know what Frankie wants, Papà ? How could you have any idea? How can any of us? Because he’s dead and dead men don’t speak, they don’t think, their hearts no longer beat, lungs fail to function—” A sob builds in my throat, cutting off my manic rambling, and Dad jerks me into his chest.
His hand runs over the back of my head, and he whispers soothingly like he did when I was a silly child, awoken by a nightmare or terrified by some movie Alessandro had made me watch at their house. “I’m so sorry, Isa,” he whispers. “I wish more than anything I could spare you from the dark parts of our legacy, of our grisly world.” He holds me out to arm’s length and spears me with those expressive irises. “But I must prepare you for what is to come. You will always be the heir to the Kings’ empire and with it, comes responsibilities. I hope to protect you from it as long as possible, but I cannot do that properly without a guard at your side.”
“I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can, and you will.” He stands and ticks his head at the clock above the kitchen stove. “I have four candidates coming in today to interview with you. I’ve already vetted them all, and any one of them would make a fine choice. I hope that giving you the opportunity to decide on your guardian will help in the process, but if you cannot choose, then I will decide for you.”
I jump up, my bare feet tingling against the cool marble. “No, I’m not ready,” I growl. “And since when are you trying to get me out of the penthouse? My whole life you’ve wanted the exact opposite!” As a teen, I was never allowed to go to sleepovers, to the movies with friends, on dates with boys. Nothing.
“Because we’re worried about you, Isa.” Mom’s voice echoes from the second floor. She pads down the steps, wet hair hanging off her bare shoulders.
My father’s gaze pivots to hers and even in the midst of a fight, I see the fire in his eyes as he regards her. Even after all these years, he adores her. A part of me wants that so badly. Growing up with the most perfect, loving couple is damned intimidating. Even if I had the opportunity to date, would I ever find a love like theirs?
One thing is for damned sure, I never will if I don’t leave the safety of these four walls.
I heave out a breath and drop down onto the couch. “Fine, I’ll meet with the candidates, but if I don’t like them, I’m not doing this.”
Mom steps closer, and Papà ’s arm instinctively curls around her waist. I’m not sure he even realizes he’s doing it. He draws her close, nostrils flaring as if he’s breathing her in. It’s gross and sweet, and my heart aches a little more for what they have.
Steeling my resolve, I grab the books littering the coffee table and press them against my chest. “Let me know when the men get here, I’m going to get dressed.”