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My fingers fly to my neck, and I realize, too late, I let him undo my scarf under the spell of his enticing kisses.
I shake my head.
“It’s nothing. Nothing for you to worry about. Just-”
I bend down to pick up my silk Hermes scarf, but of course Vito is faster. He snatches it from the ground in one swift move and fists the delicate fabric so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t disintegrate.
“Who the fuck did this to you, Isa?” He snarls.
And my heart breaks in a thousand pieces. This man, this almost stranger is getting enraged on my behalf because he suspects I was manhandled, when the one man on this earth who should have ensured my entire life nothing bad ever happened to me is the one inflicting the pain. I swallow with difficulty, my throat clogged. I don’t want to speak, but I’m also unable to do so easily. I just stand there, staring Vito in the eye.
He cups the side of my face and his tone is much more controlled and warm when he asks, “who hurt you, sweetheart?”
I feel one lone tear slide down my cheek but don’t move to wipe it off. Can’t move. I know I’m only holding on by a thread. If I give in to the emotions Vito’s reaction are stirring up inside me.
“Was it your dad?”
My jaw is so tight, it feels like my teeth could shatter any moment now. I hold his intense gaze, all thoughts of how hot he is, how good he feels, how amazing his kisses were, fading into whiffs of smoke. My chest is filled with pain, anger, frustration, and sadness. So much sadness. I fucking hate my life. Hate that my father is using Gabi and I as pawns in his schemes. Hate that despite all my sass, my big mouth, my apparent boldness, I felt I had no choice. Hate that I still feel some stupid sense of duty toward Stephane Sinclair. After everything my father has done. To our mother, to my sister and me. The thought of the two of them is the last nail in the coffin of my composure. I let out an involuntary, strangled sob, and titter in my heels, pressing my back to the wall behind me to maintain my balance.
I’m tired, so fucking tired.
I barely sag against the hard stone surface for a second that Vito wraps his big, strong hands around me, lifts me in his powerful arms and holds me tightly into his broad chest. It’s like a warm blanket in the deep, cold of winter. A kiss on the forehead from your soulmate. Tender words of love whispered into your ear. It’s everything. Soothing, comforting, heartwarming. I melt into his embrace, burying my face in the crook of his neck. The fragrance of his woodsy cologne, the musk of his manly scent, the feel of his strong body… all that’s Vito Romano. His aura of power, the firm pace of his swagger… The overwhelming wave of emotions that crashed over me begins receding slowly as I inhale Vito’s scent, snuggle into his heat, and let my body relax into his embrace. I know that wherever he’s taking me I’ll be safe.
* * *
MISHA
We all turn around when we hear footsteps coming from the balcony. And I swiftly stand up on my feet when Vito walks into the library, carrying Isabelle in his arms.What the fuck?She’s clinging to him, face tucked into his body. Something is wrong here.
“What the hell is going on, Romano? What happened?” O’Malley growls, at the same time striding towards them, big, tall, and fucking enraged.
The entire fucking room vibrates with waves of rage coming from each one of us. Vito plants himself in the center of the circle we’ve formed, holding our girl like she’s the most precious fucking thing in the world.
“Keep your fucking shit, Danni,” he says between clenched teeth. Then, letting his gaze meet our eyes, one after the other, he adds, “someone hurt Isabelle.”
We all take a step closer, jaws bunched, hands fisting, my own fingers reaching for the gun I have tucked at the waistband of my tailored slacks, under my suit jacket.
Vito gives me a brief nod, and I understand shit is about to go down. We know each other inside and out. We can read the tiniest of cues from each other. These men are my best friends, my brothers. What runs between us is thicker than blood, and more lethal than any of our enemies could imagine. Together we are unstoppable, and we will fucking annihilate any one who touches a single hair on our woman’s head.
I take the last step separating Vito and Isabelle from the rest of us and gently run a hand over her soft hair.
Turning a gaze I know is burning to Vito, I ask, “what happened and who did it?”
He takes a deep inhale, the wings of his nose flaring, before answering in a low, barely audible growl, “our fucking woman has fucking bruises on her neck, brother. Shaped like a fucking hand print. She wouldn’t talk, but I think we all know only one person would do that shit to her.”
Our eyes instantly turn in the direction of the room entrance. The door to the library is wide open, and we can hear Stephane and his men chatter. He left the room to give us fucking privacy. Left his fucking daughter with not one, not two, but four fucking gangsters, after one of them dragged her into a recluse area for a little tête-à-tête. Yeah, that fucking piece of shit is definitely capable of hurting Isa.
I cock my gun back and head for the door.
I vaguely hear Vito curse behind me, but the red film covering my vision and the deafening buzz in my ears block out his calls.
“Fucking hell, Mikhail! Wait!”
Should have fucking thought of that before telling me someone fucking put their hands on my woman.
* * *
ISA
