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Her eyes flash. "I'm not something for you to win."
"Maybe not." I reach out, brushing her cheek gently with my fingers. "But you're something I'm willing to fight for."[Ma1] [Ma2]
I try to lose myself in the daily operations of the compound, the renovating and restructuring after the attack, but my mind keeps drifting to Isabella.
Luca notices my distraction and pulls me aside, concern etched into his brow. "You seem...off, Stefano. Spit it out."
I open my mouth to reassure him but the words refuse to come. How can I possibly tell him the truth?
"It's nothing," I say tightly. "Just...thinking of how upset Don Conti will be when he finds out I didn't carry out the mission."
"There's something more you're not saying," Luca studies me with knowing eyes, seeing far more than I wish to reveal. But he is my oldest friend, my confidant in all matters - there are no secrets between us.
Well, almost none.
With a heavy sigh, I unburden my heart to him - about some girl I met in Chicago at a bar. I can never tell him it's Isabella Torres, our Don's prized possession. The fictionalized tale pours from my lips before I can stop it, the ache made fresh again in the telling.
I know I'm lying to my mentor, but perhaps telling him will lessen the pain and draw his suspicions far away from me and Isabella.
Luca listens without judgment, as he always has. When I fall silent, he grips my shoulder in a show of solidarity.
"You care for this woman deeply," he says gently. "Anyone can see that, Stefano. The question is, does she return your affections?"
I shake my head. "I do not know. At first...at first I thought she did. But now..." I trail off.
"Now you are unsure," Luca finishes for me. His gaze turns calculating, weighing the situation with care.
"Pursuing a relationship with her would be dangerous, my friend," he says at last. "You are the underboss of New York's most powerful crime family. Getting involved with a civilian, particularly one not from this world..." He leaves the implication hanging heavily in the air between us.
"I know," I admit. "But when I'm with her, I can almost forget who I am. Who we both are. It feels like more than just desire, Luca. Like maybe..."
"Destiny?" His lips quirk into a wry smile. "You have always been a romantic, Stefano. But we live in a world that has no place for romance. Tread carefully here - your heart is not the only thing at stake." He fixes me with a scrutinizing stare.
His advice, though sound, provides little comfort for my situation. The path before me is shrouded in shadows. All I can do is grope blindly forward, and pray I do not stumble.
After the day's work is done, I make a decision. I cannot function the way I've gone about things today. Isabella has been on my mind, all the freaking time. I'm going to walk back in there and gently ask her to tell me what's wrong.
I don’t believe she just flipped her switch. There's something more to her sudden change in mood.
As I jog back, my phone rings. Luca Conti wants to see me.
Chapter 33
Isabella
Myheartachesasthe weight of my emotions threatens to overwhelm me. Stefano, with his chiseled jawline and dark, mysterious eyes, has captured my heart in a way I never thought possible. The thought of spending time with him this evening, after the stunt I pulled to push him away, haunts me.
For the first time since I’ve come to New York, I pray the Capo pulls me out of Stefano's cottage, and puts me back in the main house, renovations be damned.
As I sit in Stefano's cottage on the compound, the guards outside making their presence known, my phone vibrates with an incoming call. The screen displays Clara's name, and I answer hesitantly, unsure of what news she might bring.
"Isabella," her voice trembles.
"Clara, what is it?" My heart races in anticipation.
"There is something you need to know. Your father... he discovered gold under his land before he died. And Juan... he betrayed you. But we don't have much time. You need to get out of there."
I grip the phone tightly, "Clara, what do you mean? Gold? Juan?" I can feel blackness crushing in on me, glad I’m already sitting. "Clara, please, I don’t understand. What do you mean I need to get out of here?" I beg, my voice barely a whisper.
