Chapter 13 I Want Her To Trust Me
I Want Her To Trust Me
I wish you would come home. I don't really have any other friends. I feel so lonely without you. —Love, Izzy
Izzy
I'm jolted awake, gasping for breath.
Arms tighten around me, and I struggle until I inhale, taking in the scent of rosemary.
Enzo.
I’m safe.
Lucas can’t hurt me again.
I relax, the arms around me loosening as I do. The safety and comfort of Enzo’s embrace surround me. Closing my eyes, I picture what it would be like to wake up to him every morning.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I shut it down. That will never happen. As soon as Lucas is dealt with, I’ll be on my way.
Enzo’s lips find my temple, brushing softly against my skin before he sits up, taking his warmth with him.
I blink groggily, trying to make sense of what happened.
We went to the club.
He had his meeting with someone in the Santorini family while I waited in his office.
I think I fell asleep.
I bolt upright, eyes wide.
“Guessing you’re remembering last night?” Enzo’s deep voice rumbles from beside me.
He climbs out the bed and I get an eyeful of his very impressive erection covered in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. Scanning my eyes higher I come to rest on a tattoo placed right over his heart.
Moving closer, I gasp.
How did I miss this before?
I reach out a trembling hand to brush over the delicate ink.
There’s just one word, in calligraphy.
Isolde.
“Why do you have my name tattooed on your chest?”
My gaze travels up to his face while my palm rests against his chest. I study his expression, which is closed off, unreadable, as he places his hand over mine.
“I was keeping you close to me.” He doesn’t offer me any further explanation.
My heart stutters in my chest trying, and failing, to work out the meaning.
He pulls away, striding towards the door with purpose. “I’m going to shower; come find me when you’re ready to talk.” His tone is harsh, almost detached.
My back hits the bed as I fall onto the mattress. Staring up at the ceiling, I contemplate what I’m supposed to tell him. It feels like there’s more to his words than him just wanting to know why I ended up with a gun pressed to the head of one of his men.
Knowing I won’t find anything out by staying in here, I get up, noticing for the first time that I’m still in my dress from last night.
By the time I drag myself to the bathroom, Enzo is already showered and dressed in a suit.
In the shower, I scrub my face of any lingering traces of makeup and let the warm water soothe my nerves.
I find women's clothes for me in the spare room. These must be the bags Noemi brought over last night. I like her.
Thankfully, she didn’t just bring party clothes—the soft sweatpants and cropped tee I find fit perfectly.
My steps are cautious as I enter the kitchen. Enzo slides a plate of cornetti towards me. “Eat.”
I nibble on the pastry as I wait for him to speak.
The silence between us stretches painfully.
“I have a lot of questions, but first, are you okay?” Enzo finally says, his tone softening towards the end.
Not bothering to wait for his questions, I try to explain. “I don’t entirely know what happened. But I fell asleep in your office, and I remember dreaming about Lucas… I think I woke up panicked. I went to search for you, then your guy touched me and after the dream… I just… I don’t know.”
He nods at me, head bobbing up and down a few times. “And where did you learn moves like that?”
I shake my head. “I can’t tell you.”
“Can you tell me why you married Lucas?”
My heart hammers in my chest. “No,” I whisper.
“Then let me take a guess.” The room feels like it’s closing in. “I think you know that he’s involved in human trafficking, and you married him to get information.” He tilts his head at me. “Am I close?”
All I can do is give the tiniest dip of my head.
“What I can’t work out, though, is why you would need to do that.”
“Enzo,” I snap, frustration bubbling up inside me. “Stop digging.”
Enzo’s eyes narrow. “I can’t do that, Iz. If Lucas is involved in selling girls, then that’s my business. This is my city. I will protect it.”
“E—”
“Why did you marry him? Who are you working with? Who did you call when you woke up?”
“I can’t—”
“Goddamn it, Isolde!” He slams his fist down on the counter, his face hard and angry.
I flinch.
He immediately softens his face, but his fingers wrap around the countertop, his muscles bunching as he inhales slowly, blowing out a breath before speaking. “I’m sorry. But please, Iz. Cuore mio. I need to know.”
I deflate, frustrated that I know he won’t let this go, but also knowing I can’t tell him anything. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
My silence is answer enough.
Enzo huffs, then storms towards his office, the door slamming behind him.
Until now, it had been easy to feel like no time had passed between when we were kids and now, our friendship picking up where we left off.
But so much has changed in that time. Enzo is no longer that same boy, with hopes and dreams of his own, and I’m no longer the naive little girl he left behind.
I have to remind myself that this is temporary. I’ll stay here until I recover fully from the attack and I can contact Cam to get myself reassigned. It will be a shame to take a step back from the action, but Lucas thinks I’m dead, or missing, or—
Crap.
What if someone recognized me at the club?
How could I have been so stupid to forget that I would need to hide? Even if this is Enzo’s territory.
My legs carry me to Enzo’s office. I don’t bother knocking, but the door is locked when I try to twist the handle. I pound on the door. “Enzo!”
It swings open, and I stumble forward, Enzo catching me before I can fall.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, frantically scanning me over.
“Does Lucas know I’m alive?”
His expression stutters before his palm scrapes over his jaw as he clenches and unclenches it. He motions me inside, sitting back at his desk then turning his screen toward me.
Lucas’s face appears before me, and I suck in a breath, fury racing through my bloodstream at the sight of his fake sadness.
He tells the camera that his new wife is missing, that he hopes for her safe return.
He says that he’s heartbroken without me, a broken shell of a man.
Then, of course, he manages to slip in a little nod to his campaign for Congress.
I hate him. I always hated him. But there’s an anger there now that wasn’t before. A desire to see his blood spill, to watch him and his friends go through the same pain I felt when they took from me.
Enzo clicks on something, and a new video fills the screen. His brow furrows as he hesitates before pressing play.
“My wife has been spotted with criminals.” Lucas’s voice rings through the room, steady yet laced with just the right amount of distress. A flurry of questions erupts, but he raises a hand, silencing them.
“She would never do this willingly,” he insists, voice thick with emotion.
“They’re holding her hostage, forcing her to—” He cuts off, choking on a sob so convincing it almost seems real.
Almost. Then, with a hardened expression, he continues.
“They’re making her dress in practically nothing, parading her around for their pleasure. ”
A reporter speaks up. “Who are these criminals?”
Lucas lifts his gaze, staring straight into the camera—straight at me. It’s deliberate, like he knows I’m watching.
“The Russo family.”
Enzo
I watch Izzy as she listens to Lucas’s speech. The rise and fall of her chest quickens, her breath uneven. Her fists are clenched so tightly at her sides they tremble.
Gio sent me the first video last night. It was waiting in my inbox when I stormed in. I’m furious that she’s hiding something from me.
After I watched the first, I saw the second—this one from this morning.
The fact that Lucas already knows about Izzy unsettles me. Only those loyal to me are allowed into my club. Unless some drunk partygoer recognized her and posted it online? But we spent most of the night upstairs, where no one could see us.
Has someone betrayed me?
It wouldn’t be the first time. Matteo’s betrayal still cuts deep. We grew up together, two teens thrown into a world of violence. That didn’t stop him from selling out my sister’s location for the right price.
Izzy’s wide eyes snap to mine, her body trembling, and all my frustration with her vanishes. I pull her into my lap, her back against my chest. She curls into me, taking comfort in my presence, and something inside me settles.
“He’s put a target on your back,” she whispers, her voice raw.
Before I can answer, the door to my office slams open.
In an instant, I’m on my feet, Izzy shielded behind me, my gun raised, finger on the trigger.
Papa stands in the doorway, his hard gaze unfazed by the weapon pointed at him.
Blowing out a slow breath, I lower my gun. The fear of someone coming to take Izzy from me ebbs, but she’s still trembling. I hate that I scared her.
Then, she exhales, straightens her spine, and lifts her chin in greeting.
“Ms. Romano,” Papa acknowledges with a nod as he steps inside and takes a seat across from my desk.
I push Izzy into my chair before taking my place behind her.
“Mr. Russo,” she replies evenly.
He rolls his eyes, a hint of a smile showing. “Massimo is fine.” His gaze roams between the two of us. “I take it you’ve both seen the broadcast?”
We nod.
“About five seconds before you burst in here,” I confirm.
“We need to do damage control.”
My hands settle on Izzy’s shoulders, a show of solidarity. “What’s the plan, boss?”
“Our own broadcast.” His voice is firm. “Isolde, I had my consigliere draw up divorce papers. Sign them. We’ll handle the rest. Then, the two of you will make a public statement—clarifying that Izzy is here of her own free will and exposing Lucas for what he’s done. We’ll turn the vultures on him.”
I like this. It risks Lucas going underground before I can take my vengeance, but no matter—I’ll find him.
“We don’t need to worry about—”
“No.”
Izzy’s icy voice cuts through the room, silencing everything.
Papa’s brows furrow in surprise. “No?” he echoes.
She exhales sharply, her jaw tight. “Divorce? Fine. Announcing that I left? Sure. But the reason why?” Her head shakes. “No. We’re not doing that.”
“Why not?”
She turns, craning her neck to look at me. “There are things I can’t tell you.” Her gaze is unwavering, locked onto mine. “Either of you.”
Papa’s eyes flash with something—pride? But it’s gone before I can assess its meaning.
A muscle ticks in my jaw. Trust isn’t something I extend easily. It’s earned, and once lost, it’s nearly impossible to regain. Trust leads to betrayal.
But this is Izzy. Isolde. Cuore mio—my heart.
She’s hiding something. She isn’t even trying to deny it. That doesn’t sit right with me—I want her to trust me.
But maybe… maybe that starts with me trusting her first. Trusting her to do the right thing. Trusting her not to betray me.
Even if it kills me to do it.