Chapter 4
1072 Words
Neon lights bling in unison with the loud bass, bodies colliding in rhythm on the crowded dance floor.
A thick combination of sweat, perfume, and spilled liquor.
Isabella held onto Romano’s arm as they swam through the crowd, her red body hug silk dress with a high slit showing her thigh with every step.
The long V neckline gave a tease of her breasts, stealing glances from every corner, but Romano’s possessive hands on her waist gave a warning.
“Looking at you in that dress… God…it’s killing me,” he whispered into her ear, the heat of his breath on her skin sending bits of shivers through her.
He takes his hands lower, his fingers digging into her hips, making her pulse beat fast.
She tilted her head, her eye meeting his, dark with hunger. “Good. Suffer a little.” As she leaned forward to him, her body brushing him.
They entered the shadowed VIP section, placing orders for drinks to blend in.
Romano crossed his arms over her shoulder, pulling her closer till there was no gap between his thighs and hers.
He drew lines on her arm. “Remember, we are happy newlyweds,” he mouthed, kissing her on the temple. “We have to act like it for now.”
Isabella’s mind wasn’t present.
She thought of Elena Moretti – her childhood best friend, a brilliant hacker with some streaks of her hair dyed blue, and the type of laughter that is contagious.
They’ve been friends since high school, where they met, sharing their losses; Elena’s parents died years ago in a Vittorio ‘accident’.
A debt collection incident gone wrong made her an orphan.
Taking her as a sister she never had, Isabella pulled strings to get her a job in the family tech ops.
Elena’s sharp senses and loyalty are what she holds close to her in this world; she helped with prelim intel for tonight.
“Call me asap, if you need backup,” a text from Elena earlier, with her signature barrage emoji.
Isabella smiled faintly, but the stakeout quickly pulled her back.
Their target is here, a slick cartel runner in a glammy suit, getting comfortable upstairs with goons.
Romano signaled the undercover waiter he planted for audio bugs.
Romano slipped his hands to her knees under the table, his thumbs slowly moving inches higher up her dress’s slit.
‘Romano,” she warned, her voice now breathy.
He widened his eyes. “Just playing the part.”
As the music volume increased, Romano pulled her to the dance floor for the sting cover.
People clustered around them, dancing, their bodies moving in sync. Romano grabbed her hips, slowly grinding her.
Suddenly, chaos started.
Shouts coming from the bar, thugs from rival cartels recognized them, whispers turning into stares.
Cartel hidden plants pushed through the crowd.
Breaking bottles as punches are thrown, tables overturned, drinks spilling, and screams from people around.
Romano quickly pushed Isabella behind him, but she wasn’t going to be helpless — she grabbed a broken glass stem as her weapon.
The fight erupted.
A goon charged at Romano with a knife; he quickly dodged, removing the knife with a brutal arm twist, slamming him into the bar.
Romano fought like a beast, striking elbows to a goon’s jaw, lunging his knee to another’s gut.
Shielding Isabella while she kicked a thug’s knee out, sending him groaning, falling to the ground.
“Out – now!” Romano roared, holding her by the hand amongst the chaotic crowd.
They fought their way through the frenzy, bumping into people as they made their way to the exit, dodging bottles that hit the wall, shredded glass all over.
The sound of warning shots fired into the roof, blasting debris of the shattered ceiling through the air.
Everyone was in panic, causing a crowd stampede, and people running towards them caused them to drift apart for a short moment.
Romano yanked her close, wrapping his body around her as a shield as they had for the exit.
Chaos covering their escape, the dark, narrow alley swallowed them, the cold rain in the air misting, they pressed their backs against the damp brick, out of breath.
Romano, looking out for pursuers, gun in his hands, cupped her face with his free hand, “You okay?”
She nodded, adrenaline rushing through her body, overwhelmed with fear, “Romano—” her voice almost close to a whisper.
“You were incredible in there,” Romano said.
She tried to answer, but words got stuck in her throat.
“We’ll wait for a while,” he said, panting, still glancing over the alley, making sure they weren’t followed.
But as footsteps approached, he drew his gun as they vanished into the night.
*****
Once safe inside, Isabella walking back and forth while Romano ensures that everywhere is secured.
Hearing a notification from her laptop, she heads to her laptop.
Audio from the club was scrambled but useful.
Cross-checking information, Elena dug deep to get earlier, and she discovered patterns.
Shipments changing route through Russo holdings, a channel of payment linked to Romano’s uncle’s account.
Evidence piled – bank transfers, email correspondence between Russo enterprises and cartel fronts.
But then, hidden in an abandoned encrypted folder Elena named “old personal”, out of curiosity, Isabella clicked open on a scanned image.
She immediately grasped, holding her breath for a moment.
It was an old picture, faded but visible; two young women in an intimate, friendly pose, holding hands, smiling together at the camera.
One was without doubt her mother, younger, agile, with the exact amber eyes and wavy raven hair.
The other woman – dark-haired beauty, elegant looking even in a casual outfit, striking features, and dreadfully familiar.
Aria. Romano’s fiancée. The woman, he said, had died. The ghost that stayed with him all his life.
Isabella’s hands are shaking on the mouse. The timestamp showed it taken years before Aria’s death, before her mother’s mysterious death.
Different thoughts spiral in her mind, questions left unanswered.
Why was this hidden? What had my mother known about the Russos…. Or the turf war that killed Aria? Was it an affair?
There was a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Romano returned, and tension crept in. “What did you find?”
She turned the screen to him slowly, the picture shining judgmentally, her heart aching.
- Writer
