Chapter 10
TEN
ISABELLA
The villa is as I expected. Large, imposing, oozing the wealth the Morettis have accumulated over the many years. As many as the Romeros have ruled New York. Who ruled it the best… Well, that was anyone’s guess.
I open the car door, and instantly the taste of salt and the smell of the ocean hit me. In the distance, I hear the ocean crashing onto a shoreline somewhere in the darkness beyond.
“This way, Miss Romero,” Jane says, leading me toward the house.
The front double doors open up to a clear view straight through the house, and I can see the garden and pool beyond. There are French doors leading out onto the gardens, and everything is painted white, with the furniture in pretty blues and greens. Not what I expect for a Moretti hideaway home.
I walk into the center of the house. I can smell food cooking. Perhaps there are chefs in service here as well as Jane, who’s going to be looking after us.
I look around, unable to comprehend how I got here. Will the stay here be long? I hope not, but after killing Igor Dragunovik, well, Lucien Moretti has a lot of cleaning up to do.
“Your room is this way, Miss Romero.”
Jane starts walking through the home, and I follow her. I look behind me and see Anthony with his bag in hand, walking in the opposite direction.
She comes to a door and swings it wide. “We hope you’ll be comfortable here. Dinner will be ready in an hour if you want to freshen up. Your bag is already on your bed.”
“Thank you, Jane.” I close the door behind her and slump against it. My room is as beautiful as the rest of the house. I’d hoped this place was going to be cold, lifeless, a horrible hideaway that I would hate and yet…damn the Morettis, it was beautiful.
I quickly unpack, checking my phone, though I don't expect to hear from Ivy. The new phone Lucien had handed to me didn’t have my usual contacts, and, of course, it was for security, but I still missed my baby.
I should never have taken on the leadership of my family.
I should have let Alex take it all and let them sink or swim.
But I hadn’t. Why? Because my financial security is tied to my surname, and in truth, I’m no better than the Morettis or the Dragunoviks.
We’re all doing bad things; maybe sometimes we hide those dealings behind legitimate business, but in most cases, we’re just underhanded, immoral assholes.
The sound of the ocean pulls me toward the French doors, and I step out onto my balcony and look out over the gardens.
In the moonlight, I can see the ocean twinkling beyond, and I’ll definitely be exploring it tomorrow.
I take a deep breath, allowing the feel of the fresh air, not the putrid smells of New York, to wash over me.
I could live in a place like this. Ivy would love it.
I quickly shower and change after our long flight and head off in search of the dining room. I find it after having a better look around the house and finding a library, a gym, several bathrooms, a sauna, not to mention a media room. This house has everything.
The dining room is set up for two, and I glare at the table.
“What is this, a romantic dinner for two?” Anthony says as he enters the room after me. He sits without waiting for me. Such a gentleman. He leans back in his chair, watching me.
I pull out my chair and sit, picking up the napkin and placing it on my lap. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your staff why we’re sitting in here at all? I would have preferred to eat in my room. Alone.” And not with this ass.
“That can be arranged. I’ll speak to them tomorrow about it.”
No sooner has he said those words than our dinner arrives. Thankfully, it’s just lasagne and salad, and not a dinner service with multiple courses.
“Where were you this past weekend?”
His left field question catches me off guard.
I school my features and pick up my fork, delaying my answer.
“Have you been watching me?” I don’t like the idea of him knowing anything about where I go or who I know.
Those questions could lead him to Ivy, and he has no right to know her.
Not even Richard knew where I went last weekend.
I told him I wasn’t available and that was that.
“You weren’t in New York, in fact, I know you flew into Toronto, from there I lost you.”
I swallow the panic assailing me and remind myself that if he knew the full truth, he would have already said so. “Are you following me?”
“I didn’t, but we had someone on you. With everything happening in New York, we needed to know if you were meeting anyone.”
“I wasn’t meeting a Dragunovik, if that’s what you are implying, but whom I did go and see is none of your business.”
“Another lover? Poor Richard.”
I meet Anthony’s eyes and glare at him. He’s grinning at me, and the sight of him mocking me makes me even angrier.
“You think it’s funny following me. Or are you just glad Richard wasn’t with me?
” I pause. “You know if you’re jealous, you can always just admit it.
” Anthony chokes on his wine and sets it down harder than the delicate stem ought to be.
Now it was my time to smirk. “Oh, dearest Anthony, have I hit a nerve?”
“There isn’t anything to be jealous of. A banker? It just proves to me that you’ve grown soft.”
“I saved your life, I don’t think I’ve grown that soft.
” He instantly sobers, and I pick up my wine and take a sip.
“I may be operating the Romeros with less fanfare than my predecessors, but don’t make the mistake that I’m an easy target.
Igor found out the hard way, and in time, so too will my brother.
” Just saying the words hurt my heart. I hate that our lives lead us down these roads to choose sides, to backstab each other.
As much as I hate the Morettis, they never acted in that way. They were one solid unit.
We have always been fractured, and now more than ever. I take a large sip of my wine. I can’t believe Alex betrayed me. My own blood.
“Thank you,” he says, and now it’s almost my turn to spit out my wine.
A thank-you from Anthony Moretti, the proud human exterminator, is admitting something I never thought I would hear. “It was a once-off. Don’t expect it again.” A lie. I wouldn’t let anyone shoot the man sitting across from me. Only I get that honor.
Anthony clears his throat and starts to eat. For several minutes, I’m left to do the same before he says, “Did you have any idea that Alex was speaking with the Dragunoviks?”
I think upon his question for a moment, but sadly, I had no idea.
“I should have known. I’ve been away for so long that I suppose I’ve lost the knack of sensing when someone is lying to me.
” I pause. “Alex had been trying to persuade me to reach out to the Russians, but I wouldn’t.
He was angry with me over that, and we argued in the car before our meeting.
But I don’t know them or how they operate.
And by what they’re doing in New York, it doesn’t give me any sense that they’re trustworthy.
I won’t be dictated to, and certainly not be some foreign import. ”
“No, they’re not trustworthy, and you were right not to align with them.”
I nod and finish my meal.
“Now that dinner is over, are you going to tell me where the fuck you’ve been these past five years? And who you visited in Toronto?”
Jane comes into the dining room and clears away the plates, giving me time to think of an answer. “Thank you,” I say before turning back to the conversation. “I was visiting my husband, if you must know.”
“What?” Anthony thrust himself out of his chair, sending it flying backward before it slammed onto the floor. “You’re fucking married?”
The anger is written all over his face, but there’s something else there, too: shock and that elusive hurt I haven’t seen in years. I didn't think I could injure him anymore, perhaps I was wrong. “No.” I laugh. I can’t help it. “You should see your face when you thought I was. It’s comical.”
If looks could kill, I would most certainly be dead.
He comes around the table before I can get the fuck out of the room.
He hauls me out of the chair, his hand wrapped tight around my arm.
He’s not gentle; he’s being cruel on purpose.
I know why. I injure him, and he injures me in return.
It’s almost like old times, before he did the ultimate betrayal.
Like I weigh nothing, he hauls me onto the table and steps between my legs. I hate that the old, repressed desire rips through me at his touch. Why him? Why couldn’t I have this visceral reaction with Richard? With anyone else.
“Don’t fuck with me, Isabella. My patience is already thin. Now, where were you this weekend, and where have you been? No more lies. I want the truth.”
Should I tell him? That he’s even asking is laughable.
He may not know where I’ve been, but he knows why I left.
Had Matteo and then Elio not died, I would have never returned.
But being the oldest and more level-headed than Alex, I was given the lead on the family.
I should have refused. I should have let them all implode, including this man in front of me.
“Don’t make me regret saving your ass.” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He’s like a rock that won’t roll away.
“What were you doing in Toronto?”
I stare at him. Does he really think I’m going to tell him about his daughter, whom he didn’t want? “I don’t owe you anything or any explanation. I’m not telling you shit, so either back the fuck up or shut up.”
Anthony pins me on the table between his strong arms, his face but a breath from mine.
I clench my teeth, hating that my body purrs at him being so close to me.
Traitorous fuck that my body is. I think about wrapping my legs around his waist. Of sliding his zipper down and releasing that large, thick cock of his to enjoy.
“You better not be playing us, Bells. Whether you saved my life or not, if I find out you’re playing games, I will kill you. ”
I lean into him, and satisfaction thrums through me.
I can see he’s mad, that’s obvious, but he’s also aroused.
I can see that too burning in his dark eyes, and it makes me want things I know I shouldn’t.
He’s bad for me. He hurt me. Still, my body wants to use him.
Have him scratch that aching itch. I curl my hand about his shirt, holding him close. His eyes flare, but he doesn’t move.
His breath hitches, and I know that if I reach for him, touch him, he’s mine. “Promise me if you do kill me that you make it a pleasurable death.”
A muscle works in his jaw, his eyes wild, before he pushes off from the table and storms from the room.
I stand and pick up my glass of wine, needing a drink more than ever.
For a minute, I remain there, needing to breathe, to take stock of my emotions.
Not to mention, my legs are shaking, and I can't take a step.
I shouldn’t taunt him. It’s like poking a lion, but still, old habits die hard, and if he’s going to try to break me, I’m not going down without a fight. Even a dirty one is better than nothing.