3. Isabella
three
Isabella
“You look good. But I still think you should have worn that red dress,” Cece says from her seat in the corner of my bedroom.
“This is more appropriate and less eye-catching. I need to blend in with people,” I say, straightening the hem of my emerald dress. It’s a simple deep V-neck satin dress. Backless, with a slit on my left side, and pockets that I love and can use. My long hair is in big curls wrapped in a half updo. My makeup is simple and elegant, and I have red lipstick on my lips. I grab my golden clutch and put in my phone, lipstick, and my survival kit. The survival kit contains a small electro shocker and magic portable self-defense stick that, when closed, is the size of my lipstick and fits perfectly in the pocket of my dress.
I learned the hard way to carry my survival kit. After all, my job can sometimes be dangerous.
“I still think you will attract attention.”
I shrug at her comment and walk into my living room with Cece behind me. Ethan will be here any minute.
“I’m not taking any ID with me, but I have my phone. I have you on my speed dial and will let you know if I’m staying longer than midnight.”
“Why midnight? Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?”
I laugh at her analogy. “No. The dinner is at eight, then the auctions start at ten. What is included in the auction will be revealed when we arrive, so I have two hours to explore. At midnight, there is a special program that’s not for everyone, and no one knows what it is because the mystery was supposed to attract more people to come.”
“You did your research, right? About the one you want to investigate?” She sits on the couch, folding her legs beneath her.
“I did, but there are things that are very vague and suspicious. And my gut is telling me I need to go there. Seeing Ethan that night at the bar was a sign.”
Just as Cece starts to say something, the doorbell interrupts us. Kissing her cheek, I say goodbye to her.
Opening the door, I come face to face with a smiling Ethan.
Upon seeing me, he whistles as he looks me up and down. Ethan is a beautiful man, but not my type.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart. Tell me again why we’ve never gotten together?” he asks.
“Because you are a man whore, and every time I see you, your next step is to stick your dick into my best friend. And I don’t sleep with my friends’ exes.” I close the door and walk to the elevator in the hallway, with Ethan following.
“I’m not Cece’s ex.”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me.
“No, but as I said, you stick your dick in her.” I prefer to avoid drama, and that includes never dating the same guy as my best friend. Ironically, that is how we became friends. In college, this guy was going out with both of us, thankfully not for too long before we found out. We made a plan and made him face the consequences. We teamed up on him and hit it.
My fear of becoming like her kept me going and always choosing a different path than expected. And the years spent in hiding developed a different fear in me than the one I was raised with. One that has now developed into a fight.
Instead of living my life, I’m fighting my demons. I’m fighting fears that are engraved deep inside my bones.
The drive to the hotel was pleasant. Ethan is easy to talk to. He even said he can help me to get the dirt on anyone I want. But I can’t ask him that; I don’t even know if the rumors are true. And I don’t know his relationship with Salvatore Catalano.
A man opens my door and I exit the car, looking at the big glass building in front of me. The Lotus Hotel is one of the most expensive hotels in the world.
My thoughts are interrupted by a hand on my back as Ethan pulls me to his side and we walk inside. Where most people are asked for invitations, we’re just let in, and the realization of who Ethan is hits me. The place his family name holds and the reach they have. I guess I just always thought he was a playboy. A very rich and famous one.
As Ethan leads me through the hotel and to our table, I take a good look around me. I have two hours to remember my surroundings. To discover where I can sneak in.
I take a glass of champagne from Ethan after he takes it from a passing waiter. I can’t drink more than two glasses. I need to stay sober so I don’t get into trouble.
As we mingle in the large ballroom of the hotel, Ethan seems more than happy to have me as his arm candy. I use my charm on the people I’m introduced to and remember important names for my research.
It has been an hour since we arrived, and as we sit at our table waiting for dinner to be served, I have yet to see Salvatore Catalano. No sign of him, or any suspicious men I would expect to see here if Salvatore is involved with La Cosa Nostra.
Sighing, I turn to the woman next to me as she asks me a question. Lisa, I think, is her name. She has grilled me with questions since we sat down. Too enthusiastic and interested in my relationship with Ethan. If she only knew why I’m here, she would drop the Ethan thing.
After what seems like hours, the auction finally begins. Excusing myself, I stand, glancing at Ethan, who looks questioningly at me. I mouth ‘bathroom’ and make my way to the hallway that separates the hotel from the ballroom, taking a glass of champagne with me.
Without thinking twice, I take the turn opposite to the bathroom, where I saw security guards entering and exiting before. If they’re guarding this door, there must be something in there.
I duck behind the wall as the guard passes. When he does, I step from behind the wall and keep going. I mentally pat myself on the back for having heels with gummy rubber on them so they don’t make a sound.
At the end of the hallway, I come to the door and try the handle, only to find it locked. Taking the pin from my hair, I duck and pick the lock, something I learned a few years back. I also learned that there are days I will need to cross some boundaries.
Like now.
I flick the lock open and make sure no one is behind me before slowly entering the room. The city light coming through the glass wall helps me to see. I’ve entered some kind of office. The vast room is so different from the modern contemporary interior of the hotel.
A mahogany desk sits in the middle of the room, with a set of leather couches in front, and a coffee table between them. The seating is all leather. The room is decorated in black and dark wood. Shelves filled with books line one wall, and the wall on the other side of the desk has a dartboard on it.
I take a step inside and walk on the rug-covered floor. Quickly, I assess the wooden desk that has a stack of papers, a laptop, and other gadgets on it. I take my phone from my clutch and take photos to investigate later. Then a company name on an invoice catches my eye. La Bella. I heard that name a few months ago when I gathered information to put the Camorra boss behind bars. There wasn’t enough evidence to connect the two of them, so I left a note that the authorities should look deeper into it.
And Salvatore Catalano would not do business with Camorra if he wasn’t part of a crime family. I need to find out if he is really the don of Cosa Nostra.
I’m in the middle of opening drawers when the air in the room changes, making the hair on the back of my neck rise. A figure appears out of nowhere just as I hear a deep husky voice that sends chills down my back.
“Found what you’re looking for?”
My eyes widen as the light on the desk turns on, and I turn slowly toward the figure. My breath catches in my throat and my ass hits the edge of the desk.
Feeling like a caged animal, I look around desperately as the man approaches me. Tall, broad-chested. I can see the muscles of his thighs flexing as he walks toward me. His sharp jaw clenches as he approaches me, his blue eyes assessing me with a questioning look. I try to read his face, but it’s unreadable. No emotion to be seen.
“You have one minute to explain yourself.”
I swallow hard, searching my brain. I can’t find a good answer, which is unlike me, as I always have one. But snooping in the office of a person I don’t know is difficult to explain.
He approaches, pinning me with a look, and I’m trying to breathe and failing. Even if I had an answer, I doubt I could give it.
“I’m waiting,” he hisses.
“I was looking…” I start, but as he stops in front of me, he grabs me by the throat, taking me by surprise. He doesn’t choke me, he just presses enough for me to still be able to breathe. I gasp. My eyes widen as I look him in the eyes. My whole body is shaking from his touch.
“You were looking for what? Who are you?”
My stomach drops to the floor, my skin is crawling, and sweat drips down my back. Who am I? What do I tell him? I always have a way out, but the touch of this man and his closeness is making me think irrationally. What’s worse is the tingling down in my core; a feeling that’s new to me. Something I have never felt before from a first touch.
The man is so close to me, his legs pressing against mine. I can feel his heat in the small gap between us.
His spicy smell is taking away my ability to think. His eyes bore into mine as he waits for the answer I don’t have. Even with his stoic face, I can see a sea of emotion deep in his beautiful blue eyes. They’re speaking to me, telling me what his face doesn’t. For a moment, I thought he was going to let me go so we can talk things out, but that was just my imagination and the magic of his blue eyes.
I don’t know how long we stay like this before we’re interrupted. The door opens, breaking the spell and giving me back my senses. Making me realize the situation I found myself in. Because my back is to the door, I can’t see who has entered.
“Boss, should I take over?” the man speaks, his voice deep and rough. All business.
My eyes widen, knowing very well that taking over only means one thing: interrogation. I try to speak, but the man’s grip on my throat tightens, and he looks at me with a smirk on his lips.
“Just a moment, Dante. Let’s give her a chance to give her reasons for being here. I haven’t yet heard a word from her. Still waiting.”
“If she’s not talking, I can make her,” Dante says, like this is a normal thing he does. And the realization of what he means hits me hard.
“No,” I choke out. “I’m sorry. I think you’ve got this all wrong.”
The man in front of me smirks, and his grip on my neck loosens. “And why is that? Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”
“I’m just a journalist. I’m here for a story.” I say the only thing I can. The truth, which I follow with a lie.
“Go on,” he commands.
“The affair between Senator Wilson’s wife and some guy.” He raises his eyebrow, questioning. I quickly add, “They said it was someone in management here. I don’t know who, and I just wanted to catch them in the act.”
There is no such information. Well, there is, but I’m not interested in it. But the senator and his wife are here, so I hope he believes me.
He looks at Dante, and then, unexpectedly, he laughs. A deep laugh that slices through my bones. And then, just as suddenly, he stops.
“Let’s check that story, shall we?” he says and lets go of my throat. He seizes me by the arm and spins me around, forcing my upper body down until my face is flat on the table and my ass is in the air. One of my hands is twisted behind my back, and the other is in front of me, trying to push my body up, which is useless against the strength of the man who is pinning me down.
“What are you doing?” I protest, but my voice comes out breathy.
“Don’t bother trying to move,” he hisses.
He takes my phone and clutch from the table. From my peripheral, I can see the other man approaching.
“Do a check on her and her story.” He gives Dante my stuff, and he leaves without saying a word.
I don’t argue, knowing there’s no use. This man, whoever he is, is obviously very dangerous, and so is Dante. The room is too silent; the only thing I can hear is my ragged breathing, and I can feel his eyes on me. I break the silence.
“I don’t know what you think, but you’ve got it all wrong,” I say, trying to get out of his grip.
He chuckles. “I’ll be the judge of that. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to check you out.”
Before I can argue, he pushes my legs apart, causing my stomach to dip. My mouth falls open and I gasp.
He uses his left hand to inspect my left side from my hip down my leg, his hand touching my skin. Then he switches hands and inspects my right side, stopping at my pocket. Feeling something inside, he reaches in and takes my self-defense portable stick.
“What do we have here?” he says, and after a few seconds, I can hear the flick of the stick. “What the…” He doesn’t finish. “I don’t believe a word you’ve said. I’m sure you won’t mind, but I need to do a thorough check.”
I don’t get a say as the skirt of my dress is abruptly pulled up to my waist, exposing my black thong. His hand finds its way between my thighs and up to my sex, where his fingers trace over. I bite my lip to stop myself from reacting to his touch. The heat on my neck rises up to my face. I can feel the fire in my cheeks.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but my voice is so low I don’t think he heard me.
He leans in, pressing his body to mine, his breath on my ear. “I need to check what else you’re hiding.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
He cups my pussy. “Is that so? You’d better start talking, then, because if I make you talk, it will be my way. But from what I can see here, I can assure you you’ll enjoy it.” He squeezes my pussy, making me inhale sharply.
He pulls my skirt back down and once again manhandles me, spinning me around and backing me against the table. He shoves my hands behind me and holds them in a firm grip.
“Start talking. You can start with your name and why you’re here.”
His blue eyes bore into mine, commanding me to talk. I say nothing as his hand slides down the straps of my dress, my upper body on display for him, but he doesn’t look, keeping his eyes firmly on mine. His hand explores the skin of my breast, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as his hand passes down to my stomach.
Like I have something under my skin.
“What are you doing? You can’t touch me like that,” I breathe, almost a moan.
“And you shouldn’t be here. I guess we’re both doing things we shouldn’t.” The heat of his predatory look as he says the words does something inside me.
Swallowing my pride, I try to stay calm despite the violation he is putting me through, and at the same time fighting the desire to lean into his touch and allow him to do whatever he wants with me.
“Your name,” he commands. His voice is strong, sending tremors down to my core.
“Isabel Roberts, and I told you the truth. I’m a journalist.” I lick my lips and exhale. “I got a tip that Senator Wilson’s wife is having an affair, and I could catch her in the act here.” The lie slips out just fine. He hums, putting the straps of my dress back on my shoulders.
“Is she now? And with whom may that be?” He raises his eyebrow, his eyes exploring my face.
“That is what I want to find out.”
“But as you see, she is not here, yet you were snooping around. Why?”
“I thought looking around might tell me who this office belongs to and I’d get the name of the mystery man.”
“You shouldn’t have come here in the first place. How did you enter this event, anyway? This is a closed event. No press is allowed in here. You could get in trouble just for that,” he says in a low, husky voice.
His threat is doing things to me that make me question myself. The adrenaline running through me makes me want to test his threat.
I raise my eyebrows, giving him a small, seductive smile. His grip on my hands tightens. He takes a step forward, one of his legs between mine, his thigh dangerously close to my sex. His face moves forward, and I can feel his breath on my cheek when he speaks next.
“You don’t know what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into. Do you even know who I am?” He smirks.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t know who he is, and that’s the problem. He just showed up out of nowhere. All I know is that I want to keep playing this game with him.
“No, I don’t, but if I had to guess, I’d say you must be doing someone’s dirty work.” I try to hide my fear and lust with the insult that has no effect on him other than to make him laugh.
“Oh, sweetheart, I do my own dirty work. I don’t need anyone for that. And, just so you know, you’re in my office, in my hotel.”
His hotel. My eyes widen as I realize he is the man I’m after. Salvatore Catalano.
“Is that so? Are you the one sleeping with the senator’s wife?” I try to cover my surprise, but I still want to know the answer. I don’t know why, I just do. It has nothing to do with my purpose here. Something in me switched; my need to bait him.
“Who I sleep with is not your concern, sweetheart.”
Before I can say anything else, the door opens. His attention turns to the person who entered the room.
“She’s telling the truth. She is a journalist. Isabel Roberts works for Hall Media. We couldn’t find what her position is there, so we couldn’t check if her sole purpose here is just following a lead on that story.”
Salvatore’s jaw clenches, his attention back on me. I can see anger in his eyes, but why? He lets go of my hands and takes a few steps back.
“Are you here alone?”
In my need to ignore the feeling of loss without his touch, I grip the edges of the table, holding myself in place. “No, I’m with a date. He doesn’t know I’m here for a story, and I would like to leave it like that.”
Ethan knows why I’m here, but Salvatore Catalano doesn’t need to know that.
Narrowing his eyes at me, he flicks his tongue over his teeth. “Dante here will escort you to the ballroom, where you will stay for the rest of the night. I will have men watching your every move tonight.” He takes a step toward me. “And if I see you snooping around one more time tonight or any other time, there will be consequences.” One more step. “If I see something about tonight that includes me or the senator’s wife in the press, there will be consequences.” He takes one last step just before I have time to stand, caging me to the table. His face is just inches from mine. “You do not want to cross me, sweetheart, because if you do, you will see the other side of the coin.”
His threat hits deep down in my bones, and if I wasn’t backed against the table, I’m sure I would collapse. At the same time, though, his threat is dangerous, and I almost want to challenge him to see what is on the other side of his coin. But the rational part of my brain, the few remaining functional brain cells I have in this moment, is telling me to stay silent.
“Nothing to say? Good. Dante will take you to the ballroom now, and I don’t want to see you again.”
I swallow the retort, staying calm. Like I would want to see him again. If not because of his threat, then due to all the things I felt while in his vicinity.
“Do you understand?” he hisses.
“Yes, fine,” I spit. Then I add sweetly, “Sorry. You won’t see me again.” I try to slip out from under him, but he doesn’t budge. His blue eyes pin me with a penetrating look. The room is silent, and all there is are our mingled breaths. I can almost taste him. Almost.
The spell is broken when he seizes me by my arms and hands me to Dante, who leads me out of the office.
Away from Salvatore Catalano.