GHOST OF DESRIES

Chapter 3

The soft light of dawn peeking through the blinds woke Isabella.

Her body was still wrapped in silk sheets that carried Romano’s lingering, intoxicating scent from the previous night.

He didn’t touch her – not yet. The bed felt empty without him.

She got up from the bed, selected a soft lace camisole that braced her full breasts and highlighted her hips, wearing it with shorts that showed her long legs.

As she moves, the fabric rubs against her skin, creating a sensual tension she hadn’t intended but can’t deny.

She walks barefoot into the kitchen, hoping to have a moment to herself to tone down her racing thoughts.

But Romano was there, waiting.

Leaned forward, arms resting against the island, shirtless, illuminating a godlike aura in the morning light.

His muscular structure, glowing with little sweat from his early workout – abs sculpted like marble, the phoenix tattoo spread boldly across his whole torso.

In his sweatpants tight to his hips, giving visible signs of his early arousal, lighting something in her.

His eyes stayed focused on her immediately she entered, riddled with raw hunger as they traced her figure – from her neck down to the curve of her hips.

Isabella breathes sharply.

Her n*****s peaked against the lace.

She crossed her arms, showing attitude, but it only made her cleavage more pronounced. “You are here,” she said, her voice blunter than she intended.

He made her a cup of espresso, his movement precise, displaying his muscles. “Where else would I be?”

He placed the cup toward her, his fingers touching hers purposely, lightly caressing the back of her hand that sent signals all the way to her core.

She pulled away, but not quickly enough before he touched her.

Taking a sip of the espresso, she looked at him. “Watching me like prey?”

He slowly smiled, like he was skimming something, showing his dimples. “If you are the prey, princess, you are certainly the type that bites back.”

He walked around the island, moving closer to her until she felt his intoxicating scent again. “And I like the bite.”

The air between them thickened and electrifying.

Isabella’s heartbeat throbs in her ears, her body longing for a touch. She could smell his warm skin, faint cologne mixed with musk of desire.

He looked down at her lips, then got lower, looking at where the lace tightened against her breasts.

“You wear that to torture me?” he whispered, his voice raspy.

“Maybe,” she whispered, snapping back. She raises her hands, with her fingertips, tracing the phoenix ink on his chest. His skin steaming, smooth, hard muscle.

He breathed in sharply, holding her hands, pressing them flat against his chest.

She feels every beat pounding in harmony with hers.

“Romano….” She said, almost like she begged him.

He leaned in close, his lips hovering close around her.

“Tell me to stop,” he slid his free hand, round her waist, stroking his thumb on the exposed skin above her shorts, teasingly gliding just an inch inside her waistband.

She didn’t tell him to stop.

She curved into him, brushing her breast on his chest. He let out a low moan.

His lips came crashing down – raw, demanding desire, his tongue going in to have her with a fierce possession.

She kissed him back, hungry and wanting more, her nails digging into his back, releasing a soft, painful pleasure sound.

He lifted her onto the island with little effort, his hands gripping her thighs, and spread them to put himself in the middle.

He pressed his throbbing core against hers, hard.

Isabella drew a sharp breath as she crossed her legs around his waist. In an instant, she grinds him.

His mouth followed a trail down her neck, his teeth biting at her beating pulse point, sucking till she moaned.

“God, you taste like sin,” he moaned, buried in her skin, his hands sliding into her camisole, caressing her breast, his thumbs carefully circling her n****e.

She dangled her head back as she arched her body, lost in the raw intensity.

In that moment of intensity, a buzzing sound came through his phone.

He doesn’t give it any attention at first, but it continues to buzz. “f**k!” he cursed as he pulled back, lust still in his eyes. “Not now.”

The distraction rippled the intense aura in the air.

Isabella slid down, breathing rough, her anxious hands adjusting her clothes. “We can’t…. we can’t… i can’t do this.”

Running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Why fight this?”

“Because I don’t know you, Romano,” she snapped back, knowing how much her body says otherwise.

*****

That afternoon, beneath the surface, there’s a brewing tension between them.

They spread out files across the dining table; shipping manifest, financial records, CCTV photos from loyal capos.

Isabella discreetly analyzing ledgers, poring over them.

As a Columbia graduate in art history and business, it made it easy to spot inconsistencies; containers changing routes, unexplained payments to companies in Chicago.

Romano, watching her, had respect in his eyes. “You are good at this.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” She looked at him. “I was kept out of the streets, not the brains.”

He smirked, “Perfect. Because this insider. Someone close gave them the gala information.”

“This advisor – “She continues.

“His calls are to unknown numbers, and they align with cartel shipments,” she said, stabilizing her voice, ignoring the throb between her thighs.

He nodded, but he kept his eyes on her much longer. “Super smart. Sexy as f**k when you are focused.”

She blushed. “Stop.”

“Your smarts remind me of someone.” He chuckled, grief sneaking in as his smile faded a little.

“Who?” she asked.

“Just a previous fiancée… I don’t want to talk about that now.” He brushed out.

Isabella didn’t press on, as she continued digging into the files.

****

As the sun began to set, Romano persuaded on training.

“You need to know how to defend yourself. You can’t always hide behind guards when enemies strike.”

“Finally…. Something I clearly agree with you on.” Isabella responded as she went into the bedroom to change into something more suitable.

In the gym, the wall mirrors reflecting their sweaty bodies.

Romano teaches her self-defense tactics, choke holds, body pinning her on the mat – hard breaths colliding. “Feel that vulnerability?” he whispered.

She flipped him, her sides on his waist, her hands pinning his shoulder to the floor. “Or power?”

She pulled away quickly and headed to the shower, leaving Romano flabbergasted by her sudden defense move.

*****

After a candlelit pasta dinner, wine soothed tongues. At the balcony, Romano sitting at the balcony, city lights reflecting on him.

Isabella joins him without thinking. “Your fiancée… what happened? Tell me about her.”

He felt tense, vulnerability sneaking in, cracking his armor.

“Aria. Beautiful and so brave. We were so young when we got engaged secretly. During a turf war like this, she was taken from me,” he paused, his voice distraught.

Isabella felt a slight pain in her heart. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he whispered.

She reached out, brushing his forearms tattoos with her fingertips.

He caught her hand, pulled her closer until she stood in the middle of his thighs.

“Romano---”

Suddenly, headlights flashed below. Gunfire boomed.

They quickly dove inside as bullets scattered across the balcony doors. Romano, protecting her with his body, gun drawn, returning fire.

The attackers fled.

When calm fell, despite kneeling on shredded glass, he checked her frantically.

His hands everywhere, “As long as you are my wife, I will protect you,” he rasped, thumb cleaning a thin cut on her collarbone.

Isabella, trembling, “And that makes me yours to claim?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, voice like gravel, anger steaming in his eye, “we end this.”