12. Isabella #2
I lift my hand, staring at the plain gold band. I wasn’t completely aware when he slipped it on my finger, and I forgot to throw it at him when I stormed out of the church. Ripping it off, I chuck it at the wall.
It hits, bounces off, and vibrates on the floor for a good minute before settling.
“Mrs. Volkov.” I mouth the words, too irritated to say them out loud. I’m no longer Isabella Ricci, the only child and heir to Marco Ricci. I’m now wife to a crazed, egoistic, self-centered, controlling man.
I’ll never say it out loud. The words Mrs. Volkov will never slip past my lips as long as I’m alive, nor will his ring touch my finger again.
“I don’t care what you scream, Isabella. But you will come with me.” Roman’s words echo in my mind, and I see his impassive, unbothered face. It didn’t matter to him that I was willing to tell everyone who he truly was.
Murderer. He would’ve done as he said, because he did it once, at the cathedral. It’s almost as if nothing affects him.
The asshole!
I drag my fingers through my hair, biting my cheek to keep from screaming in frustration. I’ll show him. Someway, somehow, I’ll make him regret forcing me down the isle.
As I walk to the bathroom, fuming, I hear a vibrating sound. I spin, gaze cutting to my bed. My phone? I haven’t used it since I tried contacting my father, but he didn’t respond.
And after Roman scared me into thinking we were going to start sharing a bed, I hid my phone under the bed. In hindsight, if he had followed through with his word, he might’ve found it easily.
I hear it vibrate again.
Dad?
I sprint to the bed, yanking up the mattress and slipping my hand underneath. It’s my phone. But it’s not my father; an unknown number flashes on the screen.
Desperate, I answer and place it against my ear gingerly. “Hello?”
“Miss Ricci?”
Nico? My heart leaps. Nico was one of my father’s closest friends and his attorney until they had a falling out. My father never explained why, and I knew better than to ask, even though Nico had been like a second father to me.
“Nico?” I whisper as my eyes dart to the door. It’s closed, but I don’t have a lock, so Roman can come in any time.
Now that we’re married.
I drag the chair with one hand, straining against the weight as I make it to the door. Wedging it under the knob, I return to the call.
“Nico?”
“Miss Ricci,” he says, and I almost exclaim with joy. “I’m sorry I haven’t reached out since…” He trails off, but I know he’s referring to my wedding—the one where I was taken. “Your father is in a peculiar situation, so he asked me to convey his message.”
My father? Hope and doubt strain against my heart. I thought he abandoned me, leaving before my wedding and going radio silent after I got here.
“He killed my father. Betrayed a blood oath…I will kill him.”
Roman’s accusation. His promise to end my father.
If Dad knew that Roman was coming, it could explain why he had to run. But I’ve never known him to run away from a fight. He was the one who told me that I shouldn’t let a rival see weakness, because they’ll know they have the upper hand.
Why would he run away instead of facing Roman, unless he knew he’d done something abominable?
“No.” I shake my head, refusing the thought. My father didn’t kill Roman’s father. He wouldn’t. Unless he had a good reason. “Nico?”
“Miss Ricci?”
I hesitate, unable to get the words past my lips. The truth is, I’m scared. I want to believe that Roman made it up because he couldn’t accept that his father died for any other reason. I want him to be wrong.
On the other hand, I thought I knew my father, but he gave me to a stranger and then disappeared. After my mother’s death and his failed relationship with Nico, I have so many unanswered questions.
“Did my dad kill Roman Volkov’s father?”
The silence that meets my question on the other end feels too heavy for my fingers. They shake as I struggle to hold the phone, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.
“Nico?” I can barely hear my voice. “Nico?”
“We’re going to get you out of there.”
That’s not what I asked. That’s not what I wanted. “How?” I ask, letting him get away with the subject change.
He clears his throat. “You don’t have to know the details. But we will need to take Roman out of the playing field before we come for you. There’s no telling what plans he has or the traps he’s laid out.”
Take him out? My eyebrows creep up. Surely they don’t mean…
“Are you going to kill him?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Just stay put, okay? I promise we’ll get you out of there. Your father wanted me to tell you he’s thinking about you,” Nico says.
Lies. Lies. Lies! I want to scream, but I do what I did before—bite the inside of my cheek as I inhale slowly. “Okay.”
“Good. I’ll talk to you some other time.”
The line goes dead before I can say anything, and I let the phone fall from my hand, watching it bounce as it hits the bed. I follow suit as my knees suddenly go immobile, losing their strength.
I should be happy. I’m finally getting out of here, and my father, even though I suspect Nico added that last message on his own, didn’t completely neglect me.
Roman will be getting his due for everything he’s done.
I might not have orchestrated it myself as I wanted to, but it’s happening either way.
So I should be relieved.
And yet, I’m not.
I can only think about Roman dying at the hands of the man who might have killed his father.