The Prince of Chicago

Chapter 8

Isabelle

I was curled up on the chaise with a book I found on a shelf next to the bathtub when I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” I said absentmindedly, knowing whoever it was would probably come in, regardless of if I invited them or not. Angelo let himself through the door, followed by two men carrying boxes. I recognized the handwriting in black marker on the side of them, they were from my apartment! I felt my mouth open in surprise as the thought of Angelo going to that tiny little place embarrassed me a bit. It was also a total invasion of my privacy, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. I thought about him going through my things, and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The two men, one of whom I recognized from that night in the alley, left the boxes on the floor near me and left without a word. Angelo stood, leaning on the dresser across the room, and I could feel his eyes on me as I watched his men. It was only after they had closed the door behind themselves and were well down the hall that Angelo spoke.

“As requested, some more appropriate work clothes,” he said, tilting his head toward the boxes. “And a few other things. I’m sending Rose, our housekeeper, first thing tomorrow to get the rest of the items you’ll need that I didn’t find in your apartment. You can tell her tomorrow at breakfast if there’s anything specific you’d like.”

I looked at him, and then down at the boxes.

“You just gonna look at them?” He chuckled. “Your place was a mess, by the way. Why’d you rent in such a crappy neighborhood anyway?” His questions were a bit prying, but not in an intimidating way.

“I couldn’t really afford much else,” I replied, as I moved toward the boxes, sitting down on the floor in front of one. “I hadn’t been hired anywhere yet when I moved, although I’m sure you already knew that,” I said looking up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Well it’s a good thing you’ll be living here now, nothing good would’ve happened to you out there,” he said back, shrugging.

“Right,” I said, stretching the word out. “And what’s so much better about here? I work for the mafia now… some might categorize that as ‘not much good’.” Angelo chuckled again.

“Hey, you’re employed now, and living in one of the finest penthouses in the city,” he said, amusedly throwing his arms up as if to show me the wonderful bedroom I had been ignoring. “I’d call that moving up in the world.” A half smile danced across his lips, and I let out a breathy laugh. Man, he was exquisite to look at.

“Agree to disagree, I guess,” I said back nonchalantly, opening the box in front of me. As I rifled through the clothes inside, I could still feel his eyes on me, but he didn’t speak. Typically, I would’ve found this kind of behavior creepy or voyeuristic, but the way he watched me, it wasn’t creepy. No, it was more protective than anything else, and he had been doing it since I arrived. I didn't mind it.

I moved on to the next box, and I noticed right away that one of my photo albums had been placed inside. I pulled it out and looked up at him.

“Where’s the rest of these? Surely you found them in the other boxes?” All of a sudden, I became nervous he had done something to the rest of my things that weren’t brought here.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he responded, almost gently, as if he could sense my anxiety over it. “We left everything else in the apartment. I’ve worked it out with the landlord that rent payments will go through me. We can use it as storage for the rest of your items for now, and at the end of your lease then we can move them here, or to a storage space… We’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

“At the end of my lease? Like, in a year?” No way did he think I was going to live here for that long… or did he?

“Well, yes, you did sign a full year lease, no?” he asked back.

“That’s not the point. You expect me to just live here indefinitely?” I shot back at him, trying to reign in my incredulous tone.

“What’s wrong with living here?” I hated that he was answering all my questions with more questions.

“The problem is that as long as I’m here, I’m not free. I know I have a job with you now and I know I’m, like, part of your gang or whatever, but I have a life, Angelo. I can’t be locked up in this penthouse forever!” Angelo’s expression flattened.

“You’ll be here as long as I deem it appropriate,” he said, a bit coldly. The warmth that had crept up into him as we joked around moments ago was now nowhere to be found. “As I promised before, you’ll have everything you’ll need to be comfortable. Until I trust you to be on your own as a member of this organization, you will stay here, and that’s the last time we will discuss it.”

I pursed my lips and returned to the boxes, his eyes boring holes into my head.

* * *

I had unpacked and hung all the clothes from the boxes, and Angelo had stood there silently the whole time watching me. I didn’t say anything, and I didn’t even look at him. I figured it was better to just pretend he didn’t exist.

After some time, he moved over to sit on the chaise, and ended up picking up the book I was reading when he came in. As I finished up in the closet, I noticed he had begun reading.

“That’s a good one,” I said, nodding to the book. He looked up.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve read it before, but it’s a classic,” he said back. I was a little surprised to hear that; I hadn't pegged him as the reading type. “There were a lot of books at your apartment.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of a bookworm,” I said. “It was always just me and my mom, and she had to work a lot, so books were one of the ways I entertained myself. Kept me from feeling lonely.” He nodded, putting the book down next to him. “It’s getting late,” I said, looking over at the clock.

“Right,” he responded, making no move to get up. I rolled my eyes.

“I mean to say I’m tired, and I’m sure you are too. It’s probably time I get some sleep.”

“I don’t sleep much,” he said, shrugging. “But I’ll let you get some rest.” His eyes were less cold again now, like his guard was down. He stood up, sidestepping the now empty boxes on the ground, eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll have Rose wake you at seven, breakfast will be at eight, and work starts at eight-thirty.”

I nodded, not saying anything. His eyes were still locked on mine, and the room was beginning to feel a bit too warm for comfort. His eyebrow raised the slightest bit, as if asking me something I couldn’t possibly know the answer to, and he tilted his head like he did in the club that first night. My lips parted ever so slightly as I stared back at him, my eyes narrowing involuntarily. I felt this urge, like he wanted something from me. Almost like he was drawing me closer, like he had been working on it all night. It was magnetic, and it made me want to both run for my life and give in to the strange desire for something I couldn’t put my finger on.

“Goodnight, Isabelle,” his tone was slow and sweet like molasses, and I felt my tongue swipe across my already parted lips, as if to taste the sweetness.

Before I could gather myself to say anything back, he was gone.