2. Isabella
TWO
Isabella
T hese gatherings have never been my thing. They always reeked of cigar smoke, expensive cologne, and deceit—not exactly my idea of a good time.
Not that I hated people because I didn't. It was just that these people were different. They all wore masks, pretending to be something they weren't. It got exhausting after a while.
But as my older sister, Adelle, likes to say, “When in Rome,” or rather, when your brother is the heir to one of the most notorious crime families in New Orleans. That was another thing entirely.
Rico's been overprotective of Adelle and me ever since Mom died. I can’t blame him. But he needs to understand that I was used to being alone, especially when I was shipped off to boarding school at thirteen. It was for my own safety, or so they said—to keep me away from the dangerous world they led. But nothing could have prepared me for the life I was thrust back into when I returned home for college breaks and holidays. My father asked me to come. He had something important to discuss with me.
I sighed, fingers tapping on the terrace railing, looking out at the lit-up city below us. It was beautiful from up here. It harbored so many secrets, so much ugliness beneath its shimmering glory. I missed Adelle most when I came home. Maybe I should have gone to London to stay with her and her new husband, Dimitri.
I could still feel his gaze on me. Dominic Saviano. It sent a chill through me. Not the unwelcome kind. I smiled. Thoughts of him shouldn’t fill my mind. There was no room for a man in my life, not when I was supposed to be focused on the real reason I'd come back home. But there was something about him, a pull that I couldn't shake. Maybe it was the fact he was literally untouchable.
“So, we meet again, Isabella,” a familiar voice said behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. Dominic leaned against the railing, one leg propped up, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His dark hair fell over his eyes in that sexy, effortlessly messy way that made him look like he didn’t have a care in the world—yet everything about him radiated control.
The smoke curled lazily around him, adding to the air of danger that seemed to follow him. He shot me a slow, crooked grin, as if he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on me.
“That’s bad for you,” I quipped back, sauntering over, taking it from him and taking a long drag. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing else as I blew the smoke in his face.
He chuckled darkly, the sound low and knowing, a dangerous edge that sent a shiver down my spine. “ Sei come il fumo , Isabella,” he murmured, his voice thick with a drawl I hadn’t expected. “You’re like smoke, Isabella. Hard to breathe in, but impossible to resist.”
I could feel the heat of his gaze on me as I exhaled the last of the smoke, my fingers still wrapped around his cigarette. For a moment, I almost forgot why I was here. Almost forgot who I was supposed to be.
“Smooth, aren’t you?” I replied, trying to regain control of the situation, but my voice betrayed me—slightly breathless. “Does that line work on all the women?”
He straightened, taking a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. There was a flicker of something dark, something predatory in his gaze that made my pulse quicken, and for a split second, I couldn’t find my words.
“It’s not a line, Isabella,” he said, his voice lower now, as if we were the only two people in the world. “It’s the truth. You are hard to resist.”
His proximity was suffocating, his scent intoxicating, and every inch of me seemed to awaken under the weight of his attention. He was dangerously close—so close I could feel the heat from his body, his words still hanging in the air.
I stepped back, stopping myself, and breaking the tension with a shaky laugh. “You’re not as charming as you think, Dominic.”
He smiled, but it was a knowing, almost wicked smile. “Maybe not. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”
And just like that, everything felt like it was teetering on the edge. Something between a challenge and an invitation I couldn’t deny.
I swallowed hard, but it was too late. The pull was there. That magnetic force I couldn't ignore.
I forced a smile, leaning in just enough to let the closeness settle in the air between us. “Not for you, Dominic?”
He didn’t answer immediately, his lips curling into a pure mischief smile, yet something darker lingered beneath it. “Oh, Isabella,” he murmured, his voice dropping slightly, as if daring me to feel it. “You are here only for me.”
The silence stretched, charged with more than just his words. It was impossible to ignore how close he was now, how every part of me seemed to crave more than just the smoke in my lungs. But I had a mission, I thought, as his hand traced my hip and pulled me impossibly close. His breath was warm against my face, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart beat louder in my chest, drowning out every rational thought I had left. But no. I couldn’t.
The family came first. Always.
Focus, I chastised myself, though it felt more like a plea. “I should get back inside.”
He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. His hand slid from my hip to the small of my back, pressing me closer. “Are you sure?” he murmured against my ear, his voice smooth like velvet, teasing, coaxing.
I could barely breathe. I knew what he wanted, what we both wanted. But one wrong move, one slip-up, and everything would come crashing down. I pulled away just enough to catch his gaze.
I wasn’t sure if I was pleading for him to stop or daring him to push me further. To give me a reason to be reckless.
His eyes held mine, dark and filled with something unreadable, like a storm threatening to break. But he didn’t push. Instead, he smirked, his thumb grazing my jawline, and for a moment, everything froze.
I didn’t know what would happen next, but I couldn’t deny that a part of me, the part that had been buried under layers of responsibility and duty to always do what’s right. To be the good one, wanted to let go.
Wanted to see where this would lead.
To find out if the stories about him were true—if he really was as dangerous as they said. To taste the Dominic Saviano.
But I couldn’t afford to lose myself. Not when so much was at stake.
“Arrivederci, Isabella,” he whispered before releasing me, sauntering back inside as if nothing had ever happened. I exhaled a shaky breath, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. What just happened?
I leaned against the railing, trying to compose myself, but my hands trembled. He was right about one thing: I hadn't seen that coming.