Chapter 3-2 : Isabella
891 Words
“Or they’ll kill him.”
Sofia nodded. “That’s what he said. That’s why he needed to get married. Some kind of legal protection. I don’t really understand it.”
I did. If Dante was killed, his assets would go to his spouse. Which meant whoever wanted him dead would have to deal with me first.
I was human shield and detective rolled into one.
“Are you mad at me?” Sofia asked quietly.
“For running? No. For not calling me immediately? A little.”
“I couldn’t risk it. I thought they might be listening. Tracking me.” She grabbed my hands. “But you shouldn’t have married him, Izzy. You should have just let it go.”
“Let Mom and Dad get deported? Let our restaurant get seized? Yeah, that wasn’t happening.”
“It’s just stuff. Buildings. Papers. You’re my sister. You’re more important.”
I hugged her again. “We’re both safe. That’s what matters.”
“Are we? Safe?”
I thought about Dante’s uncle at the church. The way he’d looked at us with such hatred.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”
-----
When I came back outside, Dante was on the phone. He ended the call when he saw me.
“Everything alright?”
“She’s fine. Scared, but fine.”
“Good.” He opened the car door for me. “We should go. I have a meeting at noon.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Crime syndicates don’t take weekends off.”
I got in the car. As we pulled away, I looked back at the cottage. Sofia stood in the doorway, watching us leave. She looked so small. So young.
“You really care about her,” Dante said.
“She’s my sister.”
“Even though you’re nothing alike?”
“Especially because we’re nothing alike. She’s the dreamer. I’m the realist. We balance each other.”
“What does that make me?”
I looked at him. “I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out.”
He smiled. “I look forward to it.”
We drove back to the city. Dante parked in the underground garage of his building, and we took the elevator up. When we reached the penthouse, he immediately headed to his office.
“Make yourself at home,” he called over his shoulder. “I need to make some calls.”
I wandered through the penthouse, taking stock. The living room. The kitchen. A library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A gym. Six bedrooms. And his office, which was locked.
I tried the handle. Definitely locked.
“Looking for something?”
I turned. Dante leaned in the doorway of the library, arms crossed.
“Just exploring.”
“The office is off-limits.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We’re partners, remember? How am I supposed to help you if you won’t share information?”
“Partners doesn’t mean you get to rifle through my confidential files.”
“Then how do I know you’re telling the truth? About any of this?”
He walked toward me slowly. Deliberately. “You don’t. You have to trust me.”
“Trust is earned.”
“Then let me earn it.” He was close now. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Ask me anything. One question. I’ll answer honestly.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
I considered. There were a thousand things I wanted to know. About his father. About the organization. About Marcus and the trafficking and the murders.
But what came out was: “Why me?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Why me? Why not Sofia? She’s softer, easier to control. She would have done whatever you asked without question. So why did you want me instead?”
Dante was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached out and cupped my face in his hand.
“Because Sofia would have broken under this pressure,” he said quietly. “She would have shattered, and I would have hated myself for putting her through it. But you…” His thumb brushed across my cheekbone. “You’re made of steel, Isabella. You don’t break. You don’t bend. You burn through every obstacle in your way.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, it is. I want you because you’re strong enough to stand beside me. Smart enough to see through the lies. Brave enough to call me out when I’m wrong.” He leaned closer. “And because when you kissed me at the church, it felt like coming home.”
My breath caught. “That’s...”
“The truth. You asked for honesty.”
He dropped his hand and stepped back.
“I have work to do,” he said. “Feel free to explore anywhere except the office. If you need anything, my assistant’s number is on the fridge.”
He disappeared down the hallway.
I stood there, my heart racing, my face still warm from his touch.
This man was dangerous.
Not because he was a criminal. Not because people wanted him dead.
Because he made me feel things I had no business feeling.
- Writer
