Stepbrother's Veiled Intrigues

Chapter 2

"I understand, but my boyfriend and pals will be quite concerned. She begged, "I just really need to get home. I have literally zero reception here."

Just as the door opened, he opened his mouth to speak, but before she could say anything else, Vincenzo turned to face his father with a harsh, hard glance that betrayed no mercy.

"Vincenzo, are you familiar with Isabella, Maria's daughter?Vincenzo inquired, glancing at Isabella with a knowing expression as he took her hand and brought it to his lips, pecking her skin as if his tongue had brushed across it. She pulled her hand from his grasp, and he scowled.

He mocked, "She's shy."

"She just told me that she had to go home. Antonio turned to his son and said, "Dì la parola e lei se ne è andata," in a foreign language. Vincenzo looked at her as though he was mentally debating.

Once more, she felt uncomfortably standing there and wanted to just flee from his hot gaze.

"She stays this is my sister after all, no?" Antonio asked, looking up at his son as though he had just figured out the world's most challenging puzzle. Isabella wiped a tear from her eye rather fast.

"Where's my mother?"

"Maria!" exclaimed Antonio. With her brows furrowed, Maria entered the room in a matter of seconds. Her gaze swept around, and she froze the instant Vincenzo's eyes met hers. The woman glanced at the floor and then turned to face her husband.

Antonio murmured in her ear, "Isabella asked for you." Her focus instantly shifted to her daughter. When she noticed how dejected Isabella was, she hurried over to her.

With a broad smile, Maria asked, "Is everything okay?" Isabella's gaze shifted to Vincenzo, who continued to fixate on her intensely.

Her words, "I want to go home," were clear. She saw her mother freeze for a moment before turning to face Vincenzo and then Antonio. He winked at her and nodded his head.

"You don't really have a home anymore, Isabella," her mother said. That was the moment Isabella wanted to cry so badly.

She lost her father's house, something she had completely forgotten. Her heart hurt, and her ongoing state of fear made everything worse.

Isabella bounded out the front door and towards the office doors. There was a guard in front of it, and based on his appearance, she wasn't going to get past him. She stormed up the stairs, slamming the door behind her as she returned to her room.

Her hands palming her head, she hurled herself against the door and slid down it. Her eyes started to well up with tears, and the whole room sounded with her sobs.

She hoped her father was here to console her, like he was every time. She hoped her mother wasn't such an idiotic moron.

There was a gentle tap on the door. Isabella wiped her eyes hastily on her shirt and opened the door. There stood her mother, wearing a dejected smile. Isabella started to close the door as soon as she saw her, but her mother had already slithered inside.

Her mother shouted out, running a hand through her hair, "Look, Isabella. I know you are scared and confused but this was the only way I could convince him to let you stay." Glancing down at the doorknob, she secured it.

Isabella started crying once more and said, "What is all of this? Why can't I leave? Who are these people? Why did you bring me here?"

Her delicate heart, which felt compelled to make her cry over the littlest things, was something she detested.

Maria looked around the room uneasily and said, "It's all going to make sense soon. Just remember that Vincenzo is a scary man. You are his step sister, maybe that'll help him not be too cruel."

"Be too cruel? What are you talking about?"

Before leaving a very perplexed Isabella behind, Maria said, "Bella, just be kind to your step brother. Do whatever he says. I know you must hate me because I would hate me. This all going to be for the best, okay?"

Isabella mumbled to herself, "This isn't normal," but her mother overheard.

She smiled at her again, a sorrowful grin, and pulled open the door. Isabella followed her mother out of the room, saying, "Come on, I'll give you a tour of the place."

Her mother said, "This is Vincenzo's floor," as soon as they left the room. "No one is allowed on this floor, except for Vincenzo himself."

"Looking down the hallway, Isabella asked, 'If no one is allowed on this floor then why am I living on it and why can you be on it?"

"To show you a tour of it, and you are living on it because you are his sister. Plus, this is only a three-story house, where else would you live?"

Maria enquired, and Isabella squinted at her mother's dwindling figure.

"I don't know, maybe on one of the two other floors." She sarcastically mumbled quietly. Her mother grinned and kept walking, blissfully not hearing anything.

"This is Vincenzo's room. Never go inside of it, that's one of his biggest pet peeves." Her mother pointed at the door just beside Isabella's. That truth made her want to roll her eyes, but she held back. They kept walking while her mother showed her the one-story home's kitchen, living room, hot tub, and balcony.

Isabella said, "This place is cool." as she took in her surroundings. Her mother nodded, her eyes falling on her broad smile. Her mind flashed back to the times when she had smiled while sweat trickled down her face and her wild hair grew. Isabella averted her eyes swiftly.

"I know. I've got to go now but if you ever need me, just shout out my name and Il be here."

Maria informed her prior to down the staircase. Valerio, the same guy, came upstairs right as her mother came downstairs.

He offered her one of his stunning smiles and said, "Hey, I apologise for leaving you like I had earlier. I didn't meant to frighten you." Giving him a phoney smile, she bit her bottom lip and placed her hand on her bedroom doorknob, prepared to go out.

"Isabella, isn't it?"

She bit her lip and started chewing. "Yeah."

"That's a beautiful name. I'l see you around, I just wanted to let you know how Sorry I was. It can seem pretty tense around here but it'll get better." He said.

This time, she smiled at him sincere and said, "Thanks." He had a charming boyish smile that complemented his gorgeous eyes and blonde hair.

He laughed and turned back, saying, "No problem. I better go before the boss sees me up here." He headed for the steps, sending out a little wave before descending them completely.

As soon as she entered her room, her gaze went to her phone, which had absolutely no service. Though he should be anxious, she needed to phone her boyfriend to reassure him. She made it her goal to complete her education and fulfil her father's dreams in order to make him proud after he passed away.

Her partner Andre supported her the entire time. He checked on her and even decided to postpone his college plans in order to be there for her.

She missed his kindness and compassion. She was unsure of when she would see him again or even if her brother or stepfather would let her see him at all. Her mother gave the impression that her stepbrother was in command based on the way she spoke.

Curiosity driving her, Isabella stepped back into her wardrobe. She felt as she looked through every article of clothing that it seemed to be incredibly revealing. The majority of dresses appeared extremely tight and flaunted a lot of leg, the majority of bottoms did very little to cover her butt cheeks, and the majority of shirts had lengthy V-necks.

She let out a grunt and kept searching in the wardrobe. Her push-up bras and lace material undergarments were all she wore.

Angry, Isabella turned to leave. She moved over to the window with her legs and gazed out at the forest; there was something peaceful about the dark trees.

Her gaze suddenly strayed to the image of a man hiding behind a tree.

He appeared bruised and bloodied. His hair was brown, but with all the blood all over it, it was slowly turning crimson. His face resembled black eyeballs and painful scratches, and his body was covered in gashes and bruises.

She ducked as horror sank into her bones the instant his eyes locked with hers. She became curious when she heard a loud gunshot.

She slowly turned to face the glass again and saw the man covered in blood; he appeared exhausted and lifeless.

Her chest began to pound, and for a brief moment, her heart stopped beating altogether. Fear held her body steady, and the only thing keeping her alive was a gradual, steady faint.

A sneer painted on his face was met with the same searing blue eyes shining into hers. His tongue moved almost slowly as it swung across his lip, a revolver securely gripped in his fist.

She snapped her gaze away, at last emerging from the daze he had induced. She took deep breaths and raised her hand to her chest. She had just realised that she had seen him shoot the poor beaten man.

She sprinted to open the door after grabbing her phone with haste. She dashed down the stairs, only to have her slender waist seized as she was ready to dash to the front door. She was aware of the sensation of breath warming up against the back of her neck and that a gun was being laid against her side.

"And where do you think you are going, neonata?"

She whispered, "It's really none of your business," not even minding whether he could hear her. She immediately tore herself free of his grip.

She turned around and started to move towards the door, but stopped as he put his hand around her wrist. He was drawing her nearer to his incredibly strong physique.

"I'm going to ask you again," she could feel his lips barely touch her ear as he spoke. He said with a low, deep growl, "Where the hell do you think you are going?"

She shuddered, and she couldn't deny it. At the near proximity and faint hint of mint on his breath, her whole body trembled.

"Home."

"Home? Home? You are home," he whispered. As he placed her hair behind her ear, she felt a thrill run through her body.

"I mean my r-real home," she stumbled and stammered. She felt so nervous that she wanted to kick herself. He wasn't supposed to be making her feel uncomfortable; he was merely her stepbrother.

It didn't really help, given how much awkwardness she had already been saddled with from an early age.

With a grim chuckle, "Real home?" "Tell me, Isabella, do you truly have a home or is your only home buried in a grave?"

She stared down at the floor. Her father's once-bright recollections of her gradually turned into a gloom she never saw coming.