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I head into the lounge area, and a few moments after she leaves the club he finds me at one of the tables. He slides into the seat across from me. “Did Sal send you looking for me?”
Fucking fifty questions from everyone today. “What do you think?” I ask him. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that show off his muscled arms adorned with tattoos. One of the newer waitresses stops at the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks.
“No, I’m good,” I tell her. I’m going to need a clear mind. If Isabella’s article has one tenth of the insight and punch that she’s capable of delivering, I’m going to need a clear head to deal with it. Because after seeing and feeling the fear in her today, I’m not looking forward to reading the article that she will undoubtedly write to cleanse her soul.
Yet, my veins thrum with the need to read every single word. If she fears me and my family now, there’s no telling what she will think of us soon. There will be no holds barred now that the funeral is over and we’ve allowed Emelia to show her final respects to her family.
Revenge will be ours, but the chest crushing feeling that Isabella may not be mine after everything is over permeates every nerve ending that I have with a fear far greater than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Chapter20
Isabella
The soundof the penthouse door opening pulls me from my reverie, staring out at the sprawling city from the window. Lorenzo pulls off his tie as he walks through the door. “I was getting a little worried,” I tell him.
His eyes rake over my attire and stop at my bare feet. A glimpse of an expression passes over his features, but it isn’t one that I can really put my finger on. “I had some things to deal with. How far did you get on the story?” he asks, heading to the bar on the far wall filled with the decanters of hard liquor and two glass pitchers of infused water. He pours himself a glass from the pitcher floating with cucumbers and turns to me. “Would you like a refresh?” he asks, gesturing to my half-filled glass of wine.
I smile. “Not before dinner. I had a sandwich earlier, but I should eat something before I drink anymore,” I tell him.
Lorenzo’s dark eyes watch me closely. “Probably not a bad idea,” he says, sliding into the chair beside me. He leans in close, and I half expect him to kiss me, want him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes another pull from his drink and begins reading the article that I have open in front of us.
When he’s finished, he closes the laptop and looks at me with deep soulless eyes. Now I remember why I thought he was a dark-hearted devil. “What?” I whisper. “You don’t like it?”
He snakes a hand under my hair, cradles the back of my neck, and draws me close, so close the smell of alcohol invades my nostrils. “The article is everything that I imagined it would be. You see the side of us that no one else does. You have a way of burying it in the words, but I know you see it. I could feel it in the car.”
I kiss his lips, gently coaxing. For a minute I don’t think he’s going to reciprocate, until he does, capturing my lips with a veracity that takes my breath away and leaves us both craving more from the other, right this very minute.
He stands and lifts me from my chair, peeling my jeans down my legs, and stripping me bare before him. He kneels in front of me and runs a tongue through my folds, licking and sucking, holding the cheeks of my ass tightly in his hands.
His passion is so hot and hungry that I’ve almost reached the point of no return before he suddenly stops, leaving every nerve ending in my body screaming for release. He stands quickly and lifts me into his arms, walking me to the wall as my legs wrap his waist, using the hardness of its surface to brace me as he unzips.
He thrusts to the end of me, causing me to cry out as he drives into that special little spot hard, over and over until I’m delirious with the need to come. “Now, Isabella,” he growls, taking me over the edge with a powerful climax that leaves me clinging to him as he finds his own release and extends the length of mine.
My arms and legs wrap tighter around him as the waves begin to settle, both of us breathing rapidly as our bodies begin to calm. I kiss his neck and inhale the scent of his skin, but a floral fragrance wafts from his suit causing my nose to tickle.
I shift my head, and the long blonde hairs all over his black suit cause me to swallow. My legs instinctively unwrap from his waist, and I slide to the floor.
His dark eyes pin me with their stare. “When I told you that you were mine, I meant it, Isabella. I wasn’t leading you on. You understand that, no?”
I suck in a deep breath, pushing back the memories of my mother standing in the kitchen crying when my father would leave after dinner. She was his too, but that didn’t stop the lying cheat from chasing everything in a skirt.
He kisses my lips, and I let him, my mind still swirling with all the emotions of the day. “Salvatore called me on the way back here. He said he talked to Alena and that she’s stir-crazy sitting up in her room. Maybe she’s right. This is our fucking resort. We’ve got the best security in town, and our soldiers aren’t going to let anything happen to us. Go shower. I’m taking you out for dinner. It’s time everyone knows that you belong to me.”
I give him my best smile, remembering all the times my father brought home little gifts, or took my mom out somewhere special after a weekend away. Like he didn’t know she knew he was with some new little piece of ass and hadn’t been crying her fucking eyes out the entire time he was gone.
“Sounds nice,” I tell him, walking into the bedroom and closing the door before heading into the bathroom and closing it behind me too.
My chest pounds, and my blood runs furiously through my veins.
Even two doors between us isn’t enough distance right now. I get into the shower and run it hot, letting it wash the entire day—his scent and the other fucking woman’s pungent as hell perfume—from my skin.
I will be no one’s fucking little woman at home while he’s out chasing everything in a skirt and playing the field. The consigliere’s kept woman? That’s not likely to happen. I finish showering and wrap myself in a towel before drying my hair. I rummage through the clothes Darryl pulled from my closet and could kiss him. My little red strappy dress and heels are among the items he brought. I slide into it sans underwear because the cut of this dress leaves no room for any of that.
I turn and lift my hair from my skin, following the lines of the backless dress all the way down my exposed spine, right to the top of my ass. I bend over to slip into the tall strappy heels and secure them around my ankles, but it will be the last time I bend over tonight. No reason to give anyone watching more of a show than intended. They’ll have enough to watch as it is, because after tonight, he’ll know that Izzy Arden is not Lorenzo Larussio’s little woman at home.
He may think that I don’t have choices, but I do. My father made sure of that a long time ago. In my line of business, it’s best to have an exit strategy in the bottom of your purse at all times, no matter how confident you are that it’s the last time you’ll need it. Uncovering things the mafia wants covered up is dangerous business, and a few good passports and new papers on hand are never a bad idea.
Lorenzo’s not in the living room when I walk out. I pour myself a large glass of wine. The hell with waiting for food. If he gets the raw edge of Izzy Arden’s tongue because I’ve had a few drinks, so be it.
