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She’s taken up every inch of available space in my head since I met her. The moment those wide hazel eyes met mine, I felt myself sinking. Deeper and deeper into this pit where I reach up a hand to claw my way back to the surface and suddenly lose focus because I don’t want to be saved.
Which is a dangerous fucking situation to be in, considering the woman attached to the feelings and what she represents.
Right now, the dying embers of lust and desire give way to pure fury, and I’m inches away from my breaking point.
The fury isn’t directed at Isabella, no matter the size of the gigantic mistake she made tonight. At least, not until I hear from her. But for the situation in general…
When I turn back to her, she’s upright and shaking her head, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink against the gold of her skin. “No, Ricardo. He was giving my bracelet back to me. It was mine.” She lifts a hand to her chest. “My nanny bought it for me, and I thought it was lost. It belongs to me.”
There, glinting on her wrist, a damned chain made up of tarnished silver roses.
How could she have known, I tell myself, those thoughts barely heard above the dull thud of my pulse. My blood turns sluggish. There’s no way she could have known what it meant to accept such a token on neutral territory from someone like Prokhor. She had no idea?—
“This isn’t your world.” It's an effort to keep my voice soft rather than lash out. Don’t spook her. I have to make her understand what exactly happened while keeping her calm. “You have no idea the intricacies that go along with negotiations between families.”
“It’s mine,” she insists again. “He returned it to me. He was my nanny’s husband.”
I doubt it’s true. Prokhor would have researched for a convincing backstory, then lay in wait like a spider, never doubting the fly would come to him at the right time.
The knot of tension in my chest tightens until it throws my heart into an irregular beat.
“Neutral territories are not meant for business transactions, however, it’s commonly done behind closed doors. Both parties…” I trail off. I’m going about this wrong. “A transaction takes place between the parties. The terms may or may not be stated outright. But given your position, how everyone knows your father hasn’t made a marriage match for you yet—your friend Drago will have made it his business to know everything about you. Tonight, he made his move. You accepted his terms whether you knew them or not.”
Christ, there is no way in hell I’ll let Isabella fuck that old man.
It will never get that far.
She’s just staring at me, putting the pieces together, working through it in her own way. “Ricardo, I don’t understand.” She shakes the bracelet, and I swallow over a hiss.
Moran has been busy digging up whatever he can on Drago Prokhor and his syndicate. I tense, waiting for the phone to buzz with the information, dreading what I’ll read.
Already, we’re so far from the incident with the glory hole. We’re too far from me watching Isabella reach her climax, the way she bucked on the bed with the wild force of it, and knowing I’d been the one to bring her there.
I didn’t want it to be a mistake, not when I can't get the taste of her out of my mouth. Not when I know I’ll have to work my cock when I get home. And it’s absolute hell to watch the sparkle die in her eyes, the blush sink down into a pallid whiteness so out of place on her.
Reality is nothing but a fucking bitch.
I straighten my shoulders to the point of pain and force those feelings to the side to focus on the absolute tragedy of what happened an hour earlier.
I want to tell her it’s not her fault because she’s been kept out of this life and offer her whatever comforts she needs to get through this. I say nothing for the longest time, watching her crumple in on herself with a moan.
I’d been completely on board when Carter told me to toe the line with her. Her sister, Mia, has always insisted Isabella be kept out of all business dealings.
To her detriment, I now realize.
She knew nothing, and when she rebelled, as anyone would in her position, she threatened to bring ruin on us all.
“We’re going to find a way to get you out of this,” I said at last.
With the buzz of liquor in my veins ebbing, I head back to the bottle without bothering for niceties. I lift the bottle to my lips and chug until a line of fire burns down my esophagus.
“It can’t be a binding contract,” she insists. “I never agreed to anything, we never said… I only took back…” She trails off and stares down at the bracelet again, her heartbreak clear.
It had been a bold maneuver on Drago’s part to go for Isabella. Had he watched her, known to go to the club tonight to execute the deception? He’d had the bracelet and the story waiting. I hate to think what must have happened to her poor nanny. Drago, from the intel we’ve gathered, isn’t the kind of man who leaves loose ends dangling, and to make his story complete, he’d have to dispose of the woman.
Unless she’d been dead from the start.
Moran would find the answers.
