by Elle James
The man seemed to have a chip on his shoulder and didn’t like Ronin being there.
“He didn’t build an empire by playing at business.”
“No, I’m sure he’s focused when he needs to be.”
Costa crossed his arms over his chest, all pretense of civility gone. “Why are you here?”
“You heard Miss Pisano. I’m her fiancé. I was invited.”
Pisano’s assistant snorted. “I know you’re a US Navy SEAL. Why are you really here?”
Ronin smiled. “I’ve already answered that question. Why are you so defensive?”
“I care about the Pisanos. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to them.”
“So, you think you’re protecting them by attacking one of their guests?” Ronin raised his eyebrows.
The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Call it what you will. I would do anything to protect Marcus Pisano.”
What about his daughter? Ronin wanted to ask but didn’t.
A softly cleared throat broke the silence between the two men in the room.
Ronin and Costa turned at the same time to find Andre, the butler, standing at the study door. “Mr. and Miss Pisano request Mr. Magnus’s presence at the dinner table.” He faced Costa. “Should I have another setting placed?”
“No, thank you, Andre. I’m going out.” Costa performed a perfect about-face and marched out of the study and across the huge foyer to the front entrance.
Ronin followed Andre back to the dining room, wondering what bug was up Costa’s ass that he felt compelled to grill Isabella’s fiancé.
7
As soon as Ronin left the dining room, Isabella turned and paced the length of the dining room, putting distance between her and her father. If he was going to blow a gasket, she didn’t want to be within striking distance of his powerful arm.
Not that he’d ever hit her, but there could always be a first time, and she deserved it.
“Father, before you start, let me tell you why I did what I did.”
“I’m listening,” he said quietly.
She shot a glance over her shoulder.
Instead of the anger she expected to see in his face, she witnessed a deep, heart-wrenching sadness.
“I had to do it.” She crossed to him. “So many women were being abused, raped and killed. I couldn’t sit back in my gilded palace and let it continue.”
“There are armies to handle these things. What did you hope one woman could do to alleviate the problem?”
“I didn’t know what I could do, but I couldn’t stand by a moment longer, doing nothing. Asaf trained me to know how to protect myself and how to kill a man.”
Her father scrubbed his hand over his face. “But one woman against many barbaric men? I shudder to think what might have happened.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “I’ve already lost your mother to cancer. I can’t bear to think what those men might have done to you before they killed you and used you as an example to other women who dared to defy them.”
Isabella buried her face against her father’s strong chest. “That’s just it. Some women paid the price for me. I got over one hundred women out of Syria and into refugee camps in Turkey, but there were so many more, who helped me in Syria but are still captives to the ISIS terrorists. And they’re being punished for what I did to help them.”
“Mia preziosa bambina,” he said stroking the back of her hair. “You can’t fix the world.”
“I know that now. But there are one hundred women whose lives will not be governed by ISIS. Women who now have the freedom of choice to live as they see fit.” Isabella lifted her head. “I only wish Asaf had made it out of Syria with me. He died to save my life.”
Her father nodded. “He was a good soldier and a good man. I would have had words with him about going along with your insane idea. The letters and occasional videos from Africa? How?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I pre-recorded and wrote enough letters to have sent to you for the duration of my stay in Syria. I didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“I worried. Several times, I scheduled visits to come to you in Africa, but each time, I received word there were contagious sicknesses, or that you had moved deeper into the jungle to teach more children. Your friend always came up with excuses to keep me from coming. And I always received a letter a few days later telling me that you were fine and well.” He shook his head. “I had no idea you were in even more hostile territory than Africa.” He gripped her arms tightly. “Don’t ever do that again. Promise.”
She smiled up at her father. “I promise. But I have to do something to help others. We have so much, and there are people all over the world who have lost everything to war, terrorism and natural disasters. I have to help.”
“I understand.” Her father tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You are so much like your mother. She was always helping others.”
Tears stung Isabella’s eyes. “She was a good person with a big heart,”
Her father smiled sadly. “A much better person than I can ever hope to be.”
“You’re not so bad.”
“No?” He leaned back. “Tell me about the Navy SEAL you brought home. What’s the real story about him?”
Isabella stiffened. She’d already lied to her father about Africa and Syria. She couldn’t tell him she’d lied about Ronin. He’d never believe her again. “Ronin is a good man. We’re in…love. He’s my fiancé.” She was stammering and didn’t sound very convincing, but lying didn’t come easily when it came to her father.
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “You love him, you say?”
She looked directly into his eyes. “I do.” It was then that she realized how much truth was behind her words. Holy Jesus. She loved Ronin. But how? She’d known him for only a handful of days and most of those had been two years ago. No. It was a mistake. She couldn’t have fallen in love that quickly.
“Did you mother ever tell you how we met?”
Thankful her father was taking the spotlight off her and Ronin, she shook her head. “No. Please. Tell me.”
“We met at Carnival.”
Isabella’s eyes widened. Like her and Ronin...
“She was dressed as a beautiful gypsy. I wore a highwayman’s costume, complete with a black mask and a real sword. We danced, we drank and we fell in love that night.”
Again, like her and Ronin. “How did you know it was love?”
“I couldn’t see myself with anyone else. She was the one person in all of Venice, in all of the world, I could picture at my side for the rest of my life.”
“And she felt the same way. I saw it in her eyes every time she looked at you. Mother loved you deeply. She told me she hated dying, because it meant leaving you alone.”
“She always thought of others. Never herself.”
Isabella sniffed. “Then you understand how I can love Ronin. We met two years ago at our annual Carnival ball. Here, in this house.”
Her father’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not certain I trust the boy.”
“He’s a US Navy SEAL. He lives by a strict code of ethics. He’s honorable and true to his word.”
“He’s also a trained killer.”
She smiled gently at her father. “And so is your daughter. I’ve killed my share of ISIS soldiers. I have blood on my hands.”
Her father lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “Of course, you would be a fierce warrior. I’m sure those who expired at your hands deserved to die.”
Isabella’s teeth ground together. Images of the atrocities those men had committed flitted through her mind. “They met their just fates and aren’t going to heaven to meet a bunch of virgins.” She shook herself to free her mind of the darkness still lurking from her time in Syria. “For now, please, accept that Ronin is in my life. He makes me happy. After what I’ve lived through, I want to feel hopeful for the future. Be happy for me.”
Her father nodded. “For
you.” He nodded to Andre. “Bring the American back to the dinner table.”
Andre left the room and returned a few minutes later with Ronin.
Isabella resumed her seat at the table, swiping at her damp cheeks. She hadn’t realized how emotional she could get. For the past year, she’d had to fight the tears to hide her true feelings or be considered weak.
Ronin’s gaze bounced from her to her father and back again. “Are you all right?” he asked her.
A knot in her throat kept her from answering with words. She nodded and lifted her fork.
“Shall we continue our meal?” Her father took his seat and waited for Ronin to settle beside him. “Buon appetito.”
The last thing Isabella felt like doing was eating. All she wanted was to climb into bed and curl up next to Ronin. Too many memories flooded over her—too many hollow eyes and faces of desperate women she hadn’t been able to save. As her father had said, she couldn’t save the world. But she’d given it her best shot.
As soon as the excruciating meal was over, she excused herself and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Yeah, she’d ditched Ronin, leaving him with her father. But he was a grown man and capable of handling the situation. At that moment, Isabella needed time alone to sort through her feelings about Syria, about her mother and most of all about Ronin.
She loved him.
That, in itself, created a whole new set of problems.
“What is it you do for the US Navy?” Isabella’s father asked, digging into the tiramisu Amina had placed in front of him.
“I’m in special operations,” Ronin hedged.
“A SEAL, then.” The older man nodded. “I understand the training is grueling and not many men make it through.”
Ronin nodded and stuffed a bite of the dessert into his mouth to avoid adding to the description of his BUD/S training.
“What kind of life does a SEAL live?” Another bite of the delicious concoction landed in Pisano’s mouth, and he looked up, capturing Ronin’s gaze as he chewed.
He threw the older man a bone. “I’m gone a lot on missions.”
“Leaving family behind while you go wherever they send you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which means you’ll leave my daughter at home, alone, without protection.”
Ronin’s jaw stopped in mid-chew, and he swallowed the dessert before he’d completely masticated. “Yes, sir,” he said and burst into a coughing fit.
Pisano rose from his chair and stood beside Ronin, pounding his back to expel the inhaled bite of tiramisu.
When he’d recovered his dignity, Ronin said, “I would never put your daughter in danger.”
“Intentionally. Oh, I believe that.” Her father sat back in his seat. “It’s the unintentional consequences I’m more afraid of.” He pushed his plate to the side and leaned his elbows on the table. “Oh, I believe you love my daughter and want to be with her, but I don’t believe you know the extent to which some people will go to get to my money.”
“I have an idea,” Ronin disagreed. “But I’m not one of those people who wants your money. I only want your daughter.”
“Some things are more precious than money, gold and jewels.”
“Agreed,” Ronin leaned forward. “Isabella is more precious than all of your money or mansions, fast cars or yachts. She’s strong, independent and…special.”
Her father nodded, his gaze less guarded and more introspective. “She has a big heart and a sharp mind.” His lips turned upward in a smile. “She gets the heart from her mother.”
“And her intelligence from you,” Ronin concluded. “Speaking of intelligence, I understand you have been the target of some attempts on your life.”
Pisano leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I am a wealthy man.”
“We’ve established that.”
“Wealth, for some, breeds envy in others.”
“True. But who would want to hurt you or your family?”
Isabella’s father spread his hands wide. “It could be anyone from foreign governments to members of my own staff.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“When did the current attempts begin?”
Pisano frowned. “You don’t need to concern yourself.”
“Look, Mr. Pisano. Any concern of Isabella’s is a concern of mine. She obviously loves you, and you’re her only family. If something were to happen to you, she’d be devastated.” He captured the older man’s gaze. “Humor me. Maybe I can help.”
The older man sighed. “A couple weeks before mia figlia—my daughter—returned from her adventure, the tea I was served at an upscale restaurant was poisoned.”
Ronin waved his hand toward the man. “Yet you’re alive and well.”
Pisano nodded. “I only had a small sip before I was interrupted by a phone call from one of my major customers. The poison was sufficient to send me to the hospital, but not enough to kill me. I was sick for days, but not dead, thanks to a phone call and the swift response of the medical staff.”
“Did you confront the staff of the restaurant?”
Pisano nodded. “The police investigated, and none of the staff admitted to any wrong-doing. Unfortunately, the teabag and the cup had been cleared away from the table immediately upon my departure to make room for other guests.”
Ronin nodded. “No evidence.”
“Precisely. Then, the day before Isabella arrived in Venice, I was nearly hit by a vehicle that jumped the curb in Rome. At first, I thought it was a drunk driver. In Rome, everyone drives insanely erratic. But, by the way the driver sped off, I could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. I managed to get a license plate number, but the police informed me the car had been stolen that morning. They found it later that day abandoned in an alley. And, before you ask, it had been wiped clean of fingerprints.”
“So, two attempts.”
“There have been more, but they were so subtle that at the time, I thought they were accidents. Now, I think otherwise. Like the time a motorboat ran into my transport, nearly capsizing us. Or someone bumping into me as I descended the stairs at the opera house one night. I was too busy trying to catch myself to note the description of my attacker.”
“You think your bad experiences will become Isabella’s fate.” It wasn’t a question. Ronin’s words were a statement.
Pisano nodded. “I now know she’s been through worse in Syria.” The older man ran his hand down the length of his face, appearing older by the minute. “Had I known she wasn’t in Africa, teaching small children to read, I’d have gone after her. As strange as it sounds, I thought she was safe in the jungles of Uganda.” He shook his head. “I’ve raised a very headstrong daughter.”
“And done an excellent job. She can hold her own in a fight.”
He shook his head. “I suppose I was too buried in my businesses to see what was happening. All I knew was that I missed her terribly.”
“I can understand that. I met her two years ago, here in this house, and from that day on, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.”
Pisano smiled. “She is beautiful like Viviana, her mama.”
“Yes, she is.” Ronin pushed back from the table. “Sir, while I’m here, I’ll do my best to keep your daughter safe.”
“And when you’re gone?”
Ronin’s jaw tightened. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Based on where she’s been for the past year, Isabella would tell you she can protect herself.” Her father shook his head. “But one person cannot be looking all four directions at once.”
“True.” Ronin had thought the same thing. He had a team of SEALs who had his six. If Isabella gave up her father’s protection, she’d be on her own with no one to watch her back.
That was unacceptable.
“I don’t know what will happen between your daughter and me, but I care about her. I want you to know that. I would never do anything to harm her.”
Isabella’s father held his
gaze for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “I believe you. The question is, do you love her enough to walk away?”
“I can’t. And I won’t,” he said, his voice firm.
“Without my men to protect her, she is at high risk of being captured or killed.”
“Pardon me, sir, but your man took her into Syria where she was at even higher risk of being captured and killed.”
Her father gave a twisted smile. “Touché.” Then he raised his finger, pointing it at Ronin and pinned him with a wicked glare. “But if you hurt my daughter or break her heart, don’t think your SEAL team will keep you safe.”
Ronin held up his hand. “I wouldn’t worry about me breaking her heart. If anything, she might break mine.” On that last note, Ronin rose and walked out of the dining room.
Behind him, he could hear Mr. Pisano’s chuckle turn to laughter.
Funny. Ronin didn’t find anything to laugh about. Isabella’s father was in danger, as well as Isabella on multiple fronts. And Ronin was in danger of a broken heart. All around, the situation sucked. But he didn’t want to be in any other place than where he was at that moment.
He hoped he could make a difference in what was going on, maybe even find out who was targeting the Pisano family and neutralize the threat.
8
When Isabella left the dining room, she headed for her bedroom. As she reached the stairs, she changed directions and moved toward the back of the house. She’d take a walk in the garden. She wanted to get outside. The one thing she missed most about Syria was the wide-open heavens, the brightly gleaming stars and complete silence. She’d even found peace in digging her toes in the gritty desert sands.
She knew she wouldn’t find the same peace in Venice. The stars would be impossible to see with the glare of street lights washing the sky in color. Nor would she be greeted with the sound of silence. Not during Carnival, with the endless numbers of musicians singing or playing a multitude of instruments. Not to mention the delighted squeals and laughter of people enjoying the sights and sounds of the most raucous time of the year. But the garden behind the mansion was full of the roses her mother had insisted on planting and the fountains she’d taken great pleasure in choosing and having installed.
