Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I'm fucked.
I should have fucking stayed away. But I can’t find it in me to regret this.
The gates of the compound close behind us and it feels heavier than it should, the familiar clang of metal on metal settling into the morning air like a period in a sentence I'm not ready to finish.
I put the car in park and kill the engine and sit there for a moment with my hands still on the wheel, looking at the mansion ahead of us, at the guards positioned at intervals along the perimeter, at the life we left behind a week ago that's been sitting here waiting for us to come back to it.
Isabella is already unbuckling her seatbelt, already reaching for the door, and I watch her move with the particular awareness I've had of her movements since last night, since I learned what she sounds like when she comes, since I felt her fall asleep in my arms.
I thought having her would make it better.
I was spectacularly, devastatingly wrong.
So fucking wrong.
Having her made it worse. Having her made me want more. Having her made me realize that once is nowhere near enough, that I want days and weeks and months of her, that I want too much.
I want it all.
The front door opens before we're halfway up the steps and Matteo comes out. I watch Isabella's face transform the second she sees him, watch years of careful control dissolve into relief and something that looks dangerously close to tears.
She runs. Actually runs, which I've never seen her do, and Matteo catches her and wraps his arms around her and lifts her slightly off the ground in a hug that makes my chest tight for reasons I'm not examining too closely.
I stay where I am and watch them and tell myself this is good, this is right, this is exactly what should be happening after a week of being hunted through the countryside.
Matteo sets her down and holds her at arm's length, looking her over with the systematic assessment of a man who needs to verify that all the important pieces are still attached.
"You're okay?" His voice is rough with something he's trying to keep under control.
"I'm fine." She's smiling through whatever she's feeling. "I promise. I'm fine."
His eyes find mine over her head and I see the question there, the need for confirmation from someone he trusts.
I nod once.
He nods back and then pulls her into another hug, this one longer, and I look away because it feels like something I shouldn't be watching, something private.
When they finally separate, Matteo keeps one arm around her shoulders and looks at me properly.
"Thank you," he says, and loads the two words with more weight than they can reasonably carry. "For keeping her safe."
The guilt hits immediately, sharp and specific, because he has no idea what keeping her safe actually looked like in that motel room last night, has no idea where my hands were or what sounds she was making or the fact that I'm standing here now actively planning how to get her alone again as soon as possible.
"Just doing my job," I say, and the words taste like ash.
"Come inside," Matteo says, and his arm drops from Isabella's shoulders as he turns toward the door. "We need to debrief. Rafael and the others are already here."
Isabella glances at me as we walk inside, just a quick look, barely a second, but I feel it everywhere.
She goes upstairs to her room to shower and change and I watch her disappear around the corner of the landing before I force myself to turn away and follow Matteo down the hall to his office.
Rafe is already there, sitting in one of the chairs with his feet up on the coffee table like he owns the place, and he grins when he sees me.
"You're alive," he says cheerfully. "That's good. Matteo was getting worried."
"I wasn't worried," Matteo says, which is an obvious lie. "I was concerned."
"Right. Concerned." Rafael looks at me with eyes that see too much. "How was the cabin?"
"Fine."
His grin widens. "You look like you didn't sleep."
The fucking bastard.
"I didn't sleep."
"Oh, I definitely understand, being chased and all that."
"Rafael," Matteo says, his voice carrying the warning that means shut up before I make you, and Rafael raises his hands in surrender but doesn't stop smirking.
I sit in the chair across from him and Matteo settles behind his desk, and for the next twenty minutes we go through everything that happened, from the wedding to the cabin to the three men in the living room, to the gas station, the motel and the decision to come back.
Matteo listens without interrupting, his face getting progressively darker as the story unfolds, and when I finish he sits back in his chair and is quiet for a long moment.
"The O'Rourkes are getting bold," he says finally. "Coming after her at the wedding. Sending men to the cabin. This is escalating."
"They want leverage," Rafael says. "They've wanted it for years. Isabella is the obvious target."
"We need to end this." Matteo's voice is flat and final. "I'm fucking tired of waiting for them to make a move. We need to go on offense."
"Agreed," I say. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking we find Declan O'Rourke and we make it very clear what happens when someone threatens my sister." He looks at me directly. "And I'm thinking you stay with Isabella. Full time. No exceptions. You're her personal guard from now until this is resolved."
The words land with the weight of a sentence being passed.
"Matteo—" Rafael starts, but Matteo cuts him off.
"Non-negotiable. Enzo is the best we have. He's proven he can keep her safe. He stays with her." He looks at me and there's trust in his eyes, complete and unquestioning, and the guilt twists deeper. "I'm trusting you with one of the most important things in my life. You understand that?"
"I understand," I say, and mean it, and hate myself for it.
"Good." He stands. "Let's get to work on finding Declan. I want eyes on every property he owns, every associate, every place he's been seen in the last six months. We're going to smoke him out and when we do, we're ending this permanently."
The door opens.
Isabella walks in, her hair still damp from the shower, wearing clean clothes that aren't mine for the first time in days, and I have to consciously stop myself from staring.
Rafael doesn't stop himself. He looks between us with barely concealed amusement.
"Isabella," Matteo says, and gestures to the empty chair beside me. "Come in. You should hear this."
She sits and I'm immediately aware of her proximity, of the inches between us, of the way I can smell her shampoo and the particular awareness my body has of hers.
I’m fucked.
Matteo walks her through the plan, the same broad strokes he gave us, and she listens quietly with her hands folded in her lap and her face composed.
"So, you're going after Declan directly," she says when he finishes.
"Yes."
"And what about Killian?"
"Killian is in Ireland. He hasn't left in months. Declan is here, he's operating, he's the one we can reach." Matteo leans forward. "Once we eliminate Declan, Killian will either back off or escalate, and if he escalates we'll be ready."
She nods slowly, processing.
"And Enzo stays with me?"
"Yes."
Her eyes flick to me briefly before returning to Matteo. "For how long?"
"Until this is resolved and I'm confident you're safe." He looks at her with something gentle underneath the authority. "I know you don't like being protected. I know you value your independence. But this is non-negotiable, Isabella. You're too important to risk."
She's quiet for a moment, and I watch her weigh the argument against the reality. I think about how she would have responded before the cabin, whether this would have been a battle worth fighting.
"Okay," she says finally. "I understand."
Matteo exhales like he was bracing for a fight and didn't get one. "Good. Thank you."
Rafael continues watching both of us with barely concealed interest, his eyes moving between Isabella and me like he's reading a book we don't know we're writing, and I make a mental note to have a conversation with him later about keeping his observations to himself. This is not a game and Isabella’s life is at risk.
"What can I do?" Isabella asks. "To help."
"Stay safe," Matteo says immediately. "That's what you can do. Let us handle the rest."
"Matteo—"
"I mean it." His voice is firm but not unkind. "You've been through enough. Let us handle this."
She looks like she wants to argue but doesn't, just nods and settles back in her chair, and I can see the frustration in the set of her shoulders, in the way her jaw tightens slightly.
We spend another thirty minutes going over logistics, over surveillance schedules and guard rotations and the various properties Declan owns that we'll be watching.
Then Rafael says it.
"What about Saturday?"
The room goes quiet in a specific way.
"The wedding goes ahead as planned," Matteo says.
"With everything moving around Declan right now—"
"The De Luca alliance doesn't change. We need it more than ever with the O'Rourkes active." Matteo's voice is final. "Saturday happens. We just make sure nothing gets near her before then."
Nobody looks at me.
Isabella is looking at her hands.
"Salvatore's security will overlap with ours at the venue," I say, because someone has to say something practical and I need somewhere to put my eyes. "I'll coordinate with his team this week."
"Good," Matteo says.
The conversation moves on. Through all of it, I'm aware of Isabella beside me, of the way she goes very still after Rafael's question, of the fact that she doesn't look up again for a long time.
When the meeting finally breaks up, Matteo asks me to stay behind for a moment and Isabella and Rafael file out, and I watch her go with more effort than it should take for her to leave the room.
The door closes.
Matteo looks at me across his desk and his expression is serious in a way I recognize, the particular seriousness that means he's about to say something important.
"I need to make sure you're okay with this," he says. "Being her guard full time. I know it's asking a lot."
"It's fine," I say, and the lie tastes worse than usual.
"You've always been honest with me, Enzo. More than anyone else in my life." He leans forward slightly. "So I'm asking you honestly. Are you okay with this?"
The question sits between us and I think about last night, about her body under mine, about the sounds she made, about the way she looked at me after like I'd given her something she'd been searching for.
"No," I say. "No conflict."
He nods, satisfied, and the trust in his face makes me want to put my fist through the wall.
"Thank you," he says. "I know I don't say it enough but you're the only person I trust like this. The only person I trust with her."
I stand because if I stay sitting I'm going to say something I can't take back.
"I'll keep her safe," I say. "That's a promise."
"I know you will."
I leave before the guilt can choke me.