Chapter 4 Isabella
Isabella
The cold air hit her the second she stepped out of the club, but it didn’t clear her head.
If anything, it made all her senses even sharper.
Things sounded louder around her as the door shut behind her with a heavy finality, like it was sealing something in place—not just the conversation she’d had with Luca Camorra, but the path she’d just chosen.
No—she hadn’t chosen her new path. She was forced into it.
There was a big difference between the two.
Isabella didn’t slow as she moved down the sidewalk, her heels striking the pavement in steady, controlled beats.
She refused to look back at the club she had just left.
She knew that he was watching her. She refused to let herself feel the weight of his gaze, even though she could practically feel it between her shoulder blades.
He was watching, measuring her worth, and she could see in his eyes that he knew that he owned her now—and they hadn’t even said their vows yet.
The thought made her jaw tighten. “You don’t belong here.
” His words echoed in her head, low and certain.
But he was going to have to live with her being around, because she wasn’t leaving.
Not now. Not ever. Hell, she was going to be his wife, and that meant he had no choice in whether she was around him or not.
Her father was dead—of that she was sure.
She just needed to find out if her future husband had anything to do with his death.
The truth settled deeper in her chest with every step she took; it was no longer a suspicion or a whispered rumor—it was real—final.
And the worst part? Luca knew something—maybe not everything, but he knew enough. And he hadn’t told her what he knew.
Her throat tightened, with unshed tears that she tried to swallow down. Crying wouldn’t bring answers, and weakness wouldn’t get her anywhere in a world like his. She needed control. She needed information. And right now, she had neither.
A black car idled at the curb ahead, with its engine running low and steady. Isabella slowed slightly, her instincts prickling. The windows were tinted too dark, the kind that didn’t belong on a civilian vehicle.
Her steps didn’t falter—but her hand tightened around her purse as she willed herself to think about what to do next. The street wasn’t empty. There were people nearby—just enough witnesses to make something messy and inconvenient, but not impossible.
The back door of the car opened, and Isabella stopped. “Get in.” The voice was male. It was cold, and she could tell by his tone that he wasn’t asking.
Her heart kicked hard behind her ribs. “No.” The word left her before she could second-guess it.
A figure shifted inside the car, with broad shoulders and a shadowed face. “You don’t have a choice.”
Wrong—she always had a choice. Even if it was a bad one. Isabella took a slow step back, her eyes flicking toward the club behind her. She knew that it was too far away for her to try to make a run for it. If she ran, they’d catch her before she made it five steps—especially in her heels.
“You’re making a mistake,” she said, lifting her chin.
A quiet chuckle came from inside the car. “No, sweetheart. You’re the one who made the mistake already.” The man started to step out of the car, and then a voice shouted in the darkness.
“Back away from her.” The command cut through the air like a blade, and everything went still. Isabella didn’t turn right away, but she didn’t have to. She knew that voice and knew that it belonged to her future husband—Luca.
The man by the car paused, and then slowly straightened, turning toward the source of the voice. “This doesn’t concern you.” She had a feeling that the guy was about to find out that was a complete lie.
Luca stepped into view, his movements unhurried and controlled, but there was nothing casual about him. Power rolled off him in waves, quiet and absolute. He looked dangerous—deadly even, and focused, very focused.
“It concerns me,” Luca said evenly, “because she’s mine.
” The words hit her harder than they should have.
Isabella’s breath caught—just for a second.
She wanted to remind Luca that she hadn’t agreed to any of this—the marriage or his possessive nature that made him think that she was his, but this wasn’t the time or place.
The man by the car gave a humorless smile. “Funny. That’s not what I heard.” Luca didn’t react. He didn’t blink, and he didn’t move, but something in the air shifted—tightened like a wire about to snap.
“What you heard,” Luca said, voice dropping lower, “doesn’t matter.” He stared them down, and Isabella felt as though she was holding her breath.
“Get in my car,” the man hissed. He had the kind of tone that didn’t leave room for negotiation.
The man hesitated. And that hesitation seemed to be all Luca needed.
He took one step forward—just one, but it was enough.
Because suddenly, the balance of power wasn’t even a close fight.
The man’s expression tightened. He glanced once at Isabella, then back at Luca—as though calculating his next move.
Then, slowly, he stepped back, got into the car, shut the door, and the vehicle pulled away without another word.
Silence followed, and Isabella finally turned to find Luca closer than she expected him to be. He was close enough that she could see the tension in his jaw and the way his eyes tracked her like she was both a problem and something far more complicated.
“Tell me that you weren’t going to get in the car,” he said.
“No,” she breathed.
His gaze sharpened slightly. “Good.”
“But I’m not sure that I had much of a say in the matter.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t need your help,” she lied. They both knew that she was lying. She could tell by the smirk on his face that he didn’t believe her.
Luca’s mouth curved faintly—not quite a smile. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
Her temper flared. “I had it handled.” That was another lie.
“You were about to get dragged into a car by men who don’t answer to me,” he said flatly. “That’s not ‘handling the situation.’ That’s becoming part of a bigger problem.”
“I wasn’t afraid of them.” She insisted. She had been around men like them her whole life, and she had learned how to deal with them, too. Maybe it would have taken her some time, but she would have figured a way out of that mess because she always did.
“I know,” he whispered. That stopped her, because there was no mockery in his voice, and no disbelief. Just certainty, and somehow, that was worse.
Luca took another step closer, his presence crowding hers without actually touching her. “That’s why you’re dangerous,” he added quietly.
Her heart kicked harder in her chest. “I’m not the dangerous one here,” she shot back.
His eyes darkened. “No,” he agreed. “You’re just the one standing in the middle of it, not willing to back down.” The truth of that hit harder than anything else he’d said tonight.
Isabella swallowed, forcing her spine straighter. “Who were they?”
Luca didn’t answer right away. “You don’t need to know.”
“I do if they were trying to kidnap me,” she snapped.
His expression hardened. “They won’t try that again.”
“That’s not what I asked,” she insisted. A flicker of something crossed his face—annoyance, maybe. Or respect—or both.
“You’re asking questions that will get you killed,” he said.
“Then I guess I’ll fit right in,” she shot back. Silence stretched between them. A slow, dangerous smile appeared on Luca’s handsome face.
“Yeah,” Luca murmured. “You just might fit into my world after all.”
Her pulse stuttered—damn him. “I’m not yours,” she said, quieter this time—but no less firm.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “Not yet.” The words were soft, but certain, and far too confident.
Isabella’s breath caught. “Don’t get comfortable with that idea,” she warned.
Luca’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t get comfortable,” he said, “ever.” She believed that, because men like him didn’t relax. They controlled, they owned, and they destroyed. And right now? He was doing all three to her sense of control without even touching her.
“I need answers,” she said finally. “About my father.”
His jaw tightened again. “You’ll get them.”
“When?” she asked.
“When I decide you’re ready to hear them,” Luca growled.
Anger flared inside of her, hot and fast. “That’s not your decision to make.”
“It is now,” Luca insisted.
Her hands clenched at her sides. “I’m not playing your games, Luca.”
“Good,” he said. “Because this isn’t a game. From this moment on, you don’t go anywhere alone.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said.
“I’m not one of your men to order around,” she spat.
“No,” he said calmly. “You’re something far more important.”
Her stomach twisted. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“You don’t have to,” he said. His arrogance and certainty should have infuriated her, and it did. But beneath that, there was something else. Because the look in his eyes wasn’t just control, it was protection. And that was somehow more dangerous than anything else about him.
“I can take care of myself,” she said.
“I know,” he replied, taking another step closer.
He was close enough that she could feel his heat now.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you,” he breathed.
Her breath hitched, and for the first time since she walked into his world, Isabella realized something she hadn’t wanted to admit—this wasn’t just about her father anymore.
This wasn’t just about answers. This—whatever this was between them—was already pulling her into his world, and she wasn’t sure she’d survive it.
And worse—she wasn’t sure she wanted to.