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"I think that's enough for now." Her gaze meets mine, and in her green eyes I see an echo of my own turmoil. "This thing between us..." She trails off with a shake of her head.
"There is nothing between us." My denial is automatic, but the look she gives me says she doesn't believe it.
"Goodnight, Stefano."
After eating my dinner alone, I stand in the kitchen for a long time.
When I finally make my way upstairs for one last check, the mansion is dark and silent. Isabella's door is closed and there is a guard stationed outside for the night, but I pause outside it, listening for any sound within.
There is nothing but the pounding of my heart, the rush of blood in my veins. I close my eyes, her scent lingering in my memory—tequila, jasmine, and woman.
With a curse, I turn away from her door.
I should not be having these thoughts. Isabella is under my protection, nothing more. To act on my desire would be a betrayal of my duty. Of my honor.
In my own room, I undress and step into the shower, turning the water to scalding. The heat does nothing to erase Isabella from my mind. Her eyes, her lips, the slope of her neck—everything about her haunts me.
When sleep finally claims me, my dreams are filled with images of Isabella. Of peeling that red dress from her body and tasting every inch of her sun-kissed skin. Of her hands on me and the sweet ache of being inside her.
Chapter 13
Isabella
Laterthatnight,afterthe compound has quietened down, I close my eyes and relive the memory of Stefano's eyes drinking me in as I emerged from the changing room in my red dress. His jaw had slackened, pupils dilating as his gaze slid down my body.
"It's fine," he had rasped, the hunger in his voice sending a bolt of desire through me.
Satisfaction and guilt war within me now. I had gotten exactly what I wanted, but at what cost? I used my body as a weapon to make shadowing me as difficult a task as I could, and secondly, to get my hands on his spare phone.
The one he hardly uses. The one I've had my eyes on for weeks. The gamble I took, standing naked in that lacy lingerie, paid off when he walked up to me, all angry and aroused. He saw only a seductive woman, not the woman who is scheming to destroy his Capo.
Still, the memory of my one hand on his chest, feeling his warmth, while my other hand snuck the phone from his back pocket, ignites heat in my body. I press my thighs together, craving more, even as I despise myself for my weakness.
I have a duty to fulfill, a score to settle, and no man will distract me from my purpose.
Not even one as dangerously alluring as Stefano Nitti.
I slip out of bed and quietly pad to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. Silence greets me. The night guard's soft snores vibrate through the bedroom door—he's fast asleep.
My heart kicks into overdrive as I silently make my way to the vintage armoire.
The night guard moans in his sleep. I stand up on tiptoes as I stretch to reach on top of the armoire. I freeze in place, waiting with bated breath.
Nothing. The blood rushing in my ears sounds as loud as the Piedra Volada falls. For good measure I mentally count to sixty. Still no sound.
I stretch again, sliding my hand along the top of the armoire until my hand closes around the sleek metal of Stefano's spare phone.
Triumph and panic mingle in my chest as I ease the drawer shut. I have what I came for, but escaping unseen will be the real challenge.
I creep toward the bathroom door, wincing at every creak of the floorboards. I slip in and gently close the door behind me. The phone is a lead weight in my hand, damning evidence of my deception. But it's a means to an end, a way to find the truth.
I lock the door behind me, my heart pounding.
She uses a towel or gets into the cupboard under the sink to keep her voice from echoing in the huge bathroom. I stare at the sleek phone in my hands, wondering if this is wise.
Any punishment resulting from being caught with Stefano's phone, will be bearable knowing I still have the burner phone.
So with trembling fingers, I dial Juan's number. It rings once, twice, three times. Panic rises in my chest. What if he doesn't answer? What if—
