44. Antonio
Chapter forty-four
Antonio
" I need fucking answers," I snarl, slamming my fist on the desk. The pain barely registers through the red haze of anger and... something else that feels a lot of fear. "This treatment the Greeks are dangling? I want every goddamn detail. Side effects, success rates, the whole nine yards."
I pause, Isabella's face flashing through my mind. The hope in her eyes when she heard about her mother... fuck, it twists my gut in ways I don't want to think about. It's that same look she had when she used to talk about dancing, before all this shit went down. Before I... before I broke her trust. The fact that she can still look like that, still hope after everything, it makes me want to protect her, to make sure she’s not disappointed.
But there’s too much going on. Too many lies.
"Franco," I growl, "this shit doesn't add up."
Franco raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to spit it out.
"Isabella's mother... she didn't just stumble ass-backwards into an affair with Naomi's old man. And she sure as hell didn't escape Isabella's father by being a fucking idiot." I want to slam my fist on the deck again or one of the Greek’s brothers’ face, frustration boiling over. "She knows how to play the game. Maybe better than we gave her credit for."
I start pacing, needing to move or I'll lose my fucking mind. "What if there's more to her plan than this treatment bullshit? What if..."
The weight of my past fuck-ups is heavy on my shoulders. I used to be so goddamn sure of everything. Look where that got me.
"Christ," I mutter, running a hand over my face. "I don't know what to think anymore. I was so fucking sure Isabella was behind it all. And I was dead wrong."
Franco watches me, his face unreadable. "Boss, this ain't like you, second-guessing yourself."
Letting out a harsh laugh, I turn to face him. "No, it's not. But being so cock-sure nearly cost me everything. It's a weakness, this doubt."
I clench my fists, feeling that familiar fire in my gut. "But maybe... maybe it's also a strength. Makes me look harder, dig deeper."
I lock eyes with Franco. "We got to watch our step here. I won't make the same fuck-ups again. We need more info, and we need it yesterday."
Everything in me screams to take control, to lock this shit down. But I force myself to hold back, to think it through. "If Isabella's mother is playing a bigger game, I don't want to show our hand too soon. Because there's history there, deep roots. I need to know how far back it goes, what kind of power they're really packing." I inhale deeply. “Check with Massimiliano.”
“Are you sure?”
Massimiliano is the last guy I’d go to, before. He and I have... a shitty history. Climbing through the ranks didn’t give me many friends in the other regions.
“I’m sure.”
My jaw clenches as I think about Isabella wanting to leave. The Beast inside me roars, wanting to lock her away where no one can touch her. But I know better now. I've fucked up too many times already.
"We need leverage. Something to make Isabella see that running off to Greece is a bad idea. But I can't just forbid it or lock her up. That's not..." I trail off, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
"Not the right way to handle it," Franco finishes for me, understanding in his eyes.
“Exactly," I rasp out "I've made that mistake before. I can't... I won't do it again."
I think about Elena, how she looks at Isabella with such adoration. How she's starting to look at me the same way. It's fucking terrifying.
"Not with Elena watching. What kind of example would that set? Christ, I never thought I'd be worrying about being a role model."
I pace the room again. "Having a kid... it changes things. Makes you see shit differently. But it shouldn't be what makes me act right. I should've been doing that all along. For Isabella, for myself. But now? Now I've got to be better. For Elena. For all of us."
"Boss," Franco says carefully, "if what they're saying is true, if Isabella's mother really has that kind of information..."
"I know," I cut him off, not wanting to hear it spoken aloud. The stakes are higher than ever. One wrong move and we could lose everything.
I lean against the window, staring out at the grounds. "Keep digging. And watch Isabella's father, too. If he so much as sneezes in our direction, I want to know about it."
As Franco leaves, I'm left alone with my thoughts and the growing realization that keeping Isabella here, keeping her safe, might be the biggest challenge of my life. And it's one I can't afford to fuck up. Not again. Not when there's so much at stake.
When there’s a message on my phone—I hope it’s Bella, telling me she reconsidered.
But it’s a number I don’t know.
It’s Stefanos.
The Greek brother who hates Isabella’s mother.
Meet me on the beach.
Alone.
Ten minutes. I have information you don’t want to miss about Isabella’s mother.
The sea's roaring like a pissed-off misunderstood monster, fog rolling in thick as smoke. Stefanos is pacing the beach like a caged animal, all tense muscles and barely contained rage.
"Your babysitters finally cut the leash?" I snarl, eyeing him. I've seen his type before, men who let others pull their strings. Hell, I used to be one of them, dancing to Isabella's father's tune. Look where that got me.
His brothers might be family, but it's clear as day he's not on board with their plan. Yet he's been playing along like a good little soldier. For what?
"I want her dead," he spits out, not wasting a second. "I want that snake dead for what she did to me. For the man who didn't deserve to die but took his last breath because of her."
I clench my fists, fighting the urge to knock some sense into him. "I'm not your fucking hired gun," I growl.
"No," he agrees, a sly look crossing his face. "But you don't want Isabella to go to Greece. You don't want her to—"
"To what?" I snarl, taking a step closer. "Spit it out."
Stefanos glances around, lowering his voice. "Isabella's mother... she's orchestrated more than she's letting on. Yeah, she's sick, but she needs Isabella for more than just that procedure."
My gut tightens. "What do you mean?"
"The treatment? It's experimental. Risky as hell. But that's not even the half of it." He runs a hand through his hair, agitated. "That love story with Isabella's father? The affair with Naomi's old man? It was all calculated. Every move, every 'relationship' – just ways for her to gain intel, to amass more power."
I feel my jaw clench. "Keep talking."
"Isabella's grandparents, they sent her mother to train with the best. Not just in social situations, but in manipulation, in gathering intel. She's been playing this game her whole life." Stefanos' eyes meet mine, dead serious. "And Isabella? She was just another pawn. Her mother was fine with her entering that fucked-up Bachelorette tournament. All she does is lie, Antonio. Every word out of her mouth is another manipulation."
My blood runs cold. "What's she after now?"
"She's been making promises, big ones. She's been—"
A shadow falls across the sand, cutting Stefanos off mid-sentence. We both tense, spinning to face the newcomer.
Alexandros. Fuck.
"Is there a meeting I wasn't invited to?" he asks, his tone light but his eyes sharp as knives.
I turn to face him, my mind reeling from what Stefanos just told me. This isn't just about a medical procedure anymore. It's about a lifetime of manipulation, with Isabella caught in the crossfire.
"Stefanos," Alexandros says, his voice dangerously soft. "Remember whose family you belong to."
Stefanos flinches, but there's a desperation in his eyes I recognize all too well. "Family doesn't mean blind loyalty," he spits out. His gaze flicks to me, then back to his brother. "There's blackmail everywhere. And it works best when you know people inside and out."
The implication hits me like a sucker punch. They're holding something over Stefanos. Just like they're trying to do with Isabella.
My mind races, weighing options. I could go with Isabella. Keep her safe, figure out what the hell is really going on in Greece. The urge to protect her myself is almost overwhelming.
But then Elena's face flashes in my mind. My little girl, innocent and trusting. If I leave, who'll protect her? And it's not just Elena. It's everyone in the compound. My people, my responsibility.
The tension coils in my muscles, a familiar itch spreading through my body. I could end this right here, right now. Take them both out, solve the fucking problem before it grows any bigger. My hand twitches, instinctively reaching for the gun hidden at my back. One quick move, two shots, and it's over.
But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it's not that simple. These Greek bastards didn't come alone. There'd be consequences, retaliation. And not just against me.
Alexandros, the cunning bastard, seems to read my indecision. His eyes flick to my hand, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Careful, Antonio," he says, his tone casual but his eyes cold. "You're weakened. You can't afford another enemy right now." The bastard's right, and we both know it.
He steps closer, his voice dropping, and his words tell me that, of course, I was right about them having plans in case this comes to shit. "If we don't come back from this little trip, there are... contingencies in place. Your life, everyone in that compound of yours? It'll be hell on earth."
The threat hangs in the air, as tangible as the salt spray from the waves. I feel my jaw clench, fury and frustration warring inside me.
I force my hand away from my gun, letting it fall back to my side. The urge to fight, to eliminate the threat, still thrums through my veins. But I can't risk it. Because as much as I want to paint this beach red with their blood, I can't risk it. Not with Elena, Isabella, and everyone else in the compound hanging in the balance.
"Isabella's not going," I growl, my voice low and dangerous.
Alexandros raises an eyebrow. "Oh? And how do you plan to stop her? Lock her up again?”
The words hit home, reminding me of my past mistakes. I can't make that error again. But I can't let her walk into danger either.
My mind races, searching for a solution. Maybe we could do the procedures here, where I can keep an eye on everything. Ship whatever they need back to Greece. There's always a way if you look hard enough, and I've got a talent for finding loopholes in impossible situations.
“Can’t wait to show Greece to her." He’s trying to get a rise out of me and it’s working.
"If she goes," I say slowly, each word feeling like it's being dragged out of me, "she won't go alone."
Tomorrow's gonna be a shitstorm of a conversation with Isabella. But I'm ready to weather it. I have to be. For her, for Elena, for everyone counting on me.
Time to show these Greek bastards why they call me the Beast. Because if they try to harm Isabella, I'll rain hell down on them.