Chapter 7
RAFAEL
S he made me believe—for a second. A single, splintered second. That she poisoned me.
I shouldn’t be thinking about that now, but the image replays on a loop in the back of my mind, dragging a sliver of heat along the edge of my spine.
The curve of her mouth when she said it. The ice in her voice. The control in her eyes.
And for a moment— just one —I questioned it.
Not because I thought she would. But because she could.
And that’s more dangerous than either option.
I watch her now. Curled against the far side of the couch. One arm draped over her stomach. Her long lashes casting faint shadows over flushed cheeks. Her chest rises slowly beneath the black silk of her dress.
A sleeping beauty.
Except I know better. There’s nothing innocent about her.
And maybe that’s the problem.
I down what’s left of my drink and cross the room, each step sinking into the thick rug beneath my shoes. I lower myself into the armchair across from her and lean back, exhaling slow as I light a cigarette, the flame catching with a soft flick.
The first drag cuts through the quiet. Smooth. Burning. Exactly what I need.
I stare at the open panel behind the wall—just slightly ajar. Just enough to catch the glint of gunmetal in the low light.
Rows of precision. Order. Firepower.
Things I understand. Things that don’t surprise me. But her? She’s a different kind of weapon entirely.
I swirl the half-empty glass in my hand, the ice inside clinking softly, and my thoughts drift to her words.
“You underestimated me.”
She’s right. And I hate that.
But I also respect it.
The way she held her ground. The way she leaned in, let Alessio believe he had her when he didn’t. How she turned the same manipulation on me without flinching.
She doesn’t wait for permission. She takes. And that makes her just like me.
Which is exactly why I had to remind her who she’s playing with.
She played her little game at my table. So I returned it. A sleeping pill—mild, safe, subtle, just enough to pull her under. Just enough to show her that I don’t flinch either.
That I see. That I always see.
I grab my phone off the table beside me and lean back in the chair, thumb sliding over the screen until I find Nikolai’s name.
I hit call. He picks up on the second ring.
“You’re alive. Good.”
“Barely,” I mutter, letting the cigarette hang between my lips. “You won’t fucking believe the night I’ve had.”
“Try me.”
“She drugged me. Or pretended to.”
“Wait—what?”
“Vitamin,” I say dryly. “Dropped it in my drink. Watched me swallow it, then told me I’d been poisoned.”
There’s silence on the line.
Then— “You’re joking.”
“No.”
“And you didn’t kill her?”
“I was too impressed.”
“Impressed?” Nikolai scoffs. “You’ve finally lost your mind.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But she pulled it off clean. Didn’t flinch. Eyes steady the whole time. She was testing me, Nik.”
“And you just let her?”
“I said I was impressed, not stupid.”
“So what’d you do?”
I take another drag of the cigarette, the smoke curling from my mouth in a slow exhale. “I gave her a taste of her own game. Slipped a pill in her drink. She’s asleep now.”
“And you’re calling me why? So I can applaud you for playing house with a psychopath?”
“No,” I say, smiling faintly. “Because I want you to hear this from me first.”
“Hear what? ”
“She’s the most dangerous fucking woman I’ve met in years. And I’m not letting her walk away.”
Nikolai’s quiet again. This time longer.
“You’re serious.”
“Dead.”
“She could be playing all of us. Lying about everything. You know that.”
“She is playing us. And she is lying. But not about everything.”
“You’re betting on a gut feeling?”
“I’m betting on the look in her eyes when she held a blade to Alessio’s ego and smiled like she already won.”
“You’re betting on a woman with secrets we can’t trace.”
“Exactly.”
There’s another pause.
Then I hear him sigh through the receiver. “You’ve always had a thing for broken things.”
“No,” I murmur, my eyes back on her sleeping form. “I have a thing for people who know how to wield their damage.”
“So what now?”
“Now?” I say, taking one last slow drag from the cigarette before putting it out. “We see how she reacts when she wakes up unsure of what happened.”
“And if she comes for you next?”
I smile. “Then I’ll know I didn’t choose wrong.”
I stare at the low burn of the cigarette’s final ember in the ashtray beside me, the line silent now, but Nikolai’s breath still faint through the other end.
He hasn’t spoken in over twenty seconds. Which, for him, is saying something. “What did she tell you?” he asks finally, voice quieter. “About Alessio?”
“Every word,” I reply. “Said someone in Calderone’s inner circle is feeding false intel to both sides. Trying to provoke something bigger. Told me she doesn’t know who yet, but that Alessio let his tongue slip once her hand was on his thigh.”
“You let her seduce him?”
I smirk.
“I told her to make him talk. I didn’t tell her how.”
“You’re really letting her do things her own way.”
“She’s not a soldier, Nik. She’s not part of the ranks. Not yet. She’s a fire set loose in a house full of old men and tired bloodlines. They won’t see her coming until it’s too late.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
I pause. Am I?
I picture her again—walking across the floor of that gathering like she belonged there, the slit in her dress catching the light, her eyes calculating every room like she was already rewriting it.
She held her ground with Alessio. Turned him inside out. Left him with nothing but the shape of her and a bruised ego. All while reporting only what mattered.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m fine with it.”
“What else did she say?”
My gaze drifts back to the couch, to the girl draped in silk and shadow, lashes still resting against her cheekbones, breathing steady and slow.
“She said,” I start, taking a breath, “that she once had me in her scope.”
Nikolai makes a sound that’s somewhere between a scoff and a curse. “When?”
“Didn’t say.”
“You believe her?”
“Yes.”
“Why the fuck would you believe that?”
“Because I saw it in her eyes when she said it.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But think about it, Nik. She didn’t say it to threaten me. She said it like she’d already made peace with not pulling the trigger.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me?”
“It doesn’t comfort me either. But it tells me something.”
“What?”
“That she doesn’t kill without a reason. And that she had one—once—but held back. Which means she’s not reckless. She’s patient. ”
“And that scares you?”
“No,” I say. “That intrigues the fuck out of me.”
There’s a beat of silence again. I know he’s processing. He’s always been slower to trust. Sharper around the edges than even I am.
But he also knows me better than anyone. And he knows what it means if I’m even entertaining the idea of letting someone like her this close.
“And what about the two guys?” he asks.
“Kellan and Ash? Still protective as hell. Still ready to throw hands the second anything smells off.”
“You’re letting them roam around your city.”
“I’m not letting anything,” I say calmly. “I’m watching. ”
“That’s going to bite you.”
“Not if I bite first.”
I can hear him sigh again. Tired. Frustrated. But not disagreeing.
“What’s the end game here, Raf?”
I don’t answer right away. Because the truth is—I don’t know yet. Not completely. All I know is that Isabella’s not just part of the puzzle. She is the puzzle.
And for the first time in a long fucking time… I want to solve her.
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” I finally say, rising from the chair, stretching my shoulder once with a quiet crack. “Until then, keep watching everything. Especially Calderone’s people. See who’s got too many drinks and too few secrets left.”
“Copy. I’ll call you if something shifts.”
“Do that.”
I end the call and slide the phone onto the table.
The house is too quiet now. Too still. Except for the sound of her breathing. And the faint hum of tension still burning through my bloodstream.
It’s only a matter of time before her shadows come knocking.
I know they didn’t drive far. Kellan and Ash wouldn’t leave her, not even for a minute. Even when I let them in, even when I handed them a sliver of my trust—they didn’t relax. Didn’t drop their guard.
Loyal. Ruthless. Watching everything.
I can respect that.
But I’m not na?ve enough to think they won’t come through my doors the second they sense something’s wrong.
Especially now. Especially with her like this.
And just as the thought sharpens in my mind— I hear it. The front doors fly open with a bang that echoes through the marble halls.
Faster than I expected. Much faster.
I don’t move. Not yet. Because I want them to find me like this. Standing over her. Calm. Waiting.
The taste of the drink lingers on my tongue—smoke and citrus, dull heat curling down the back of my throat.
I set the glass down slowly, deliberately, letting the sound of it hitting the wooden table cut through the silence like a shot.
Outside the room, I can already hear them. Boots thudding against marble. Doors opening and slamming shut. Muffled voices.
They’re not panicking. They’re moving. Precision laced with fury.
That’s the difference. They’re not worried something happened to her. They’re worried I did something. And they’re coming to collect.
I lean back in the chair, the flicker of the fire brushing shadows across the floor, casting the gun vault door in a soft amber glow behind me.
I don’t speak. Don’t call out. Let them come. Let them see me. Let them decide if they’re ready to do something about it.
Isabella shifts on the couch beside me, still unconscious, her head tilted slightly toward the cushions, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. Her skin glows warm in the low light, but her breathing is steady. Controlled. Like everything she does. Even asleep, she looks ready to kill someone.