by Rowena
“Phase two, gentlemen,” I say. “The turning of the chapter, or the tables, as the case may be. We’ve been locked into a war with the Baldini family for decades. We take some ground, they take it back plus some. Back and forth but no one wins.”
“We win, we kick their ass!” one of the men shouts, getting excited. The others clap the table in agreement.
“No, we lose. We always lose,” I say, turning around. “Because it’s a trade off. We lose a few men, they lose a few, we recruit more and they do too. Nothing is ever decided. Nothing is final. It’s a constant state of flux.”
“But, boss, that’s the way it’s always been,” AJ says in confusion. “How else could it be?”
“How else indeed?” I say, locking eyes with Bella. “What if we could win—I mean, actually win? Put an end to this endless back and forth. What if we could smash the Baldini family once and for all?”
Bella’s eyes widen and her mouth forms an O that she quickly covers.
This is the test.
I lay my cards on the table and now we see where it goes. I’m rolling the dice, but I think I know the odds and I like them.
“How, boss?” AJ asks.
“Well, we’ve already started. Now we start phase two. We’re going to make an offer. Well, we’re not—that would never work. An organization is going to make an offer to them. It will be too good to be true. Unbelievable amounts of money involved.”
“They won’t buy it. If it’s too good to be true, then why would they?” AJ asks, playing my debate partner perfectly.
“Ah, true, AJ. I’ll take care of that, though. Trust me, I know how to put that together perfectly. They will take the bait; actually, they already have. Everything else is just a formality.”
“They have?” AJ scratches his head.
“Indeed.” I smile at Bella and her eyes narrow.
“Then what happens next? They take the deal and all?” AJ asks.
“Then, while their attention and forces are split, we attack their home in force. We find and cut off the head. Destroy the head then give the rest of the family the opportunity to join us.”
“Or else!” AJ says, grasping the bigger picture and smashing his fist into the palm of his hand. “Oh, boss, that’s so awesome!”
“Thank you. We also have an asset here, someone who should prove very useful. Bella, is there anything you can tell us about Emilio Baldini’s compound? Security, number of men… anything would be most helpful.”
I flash my teeth at her shocked expression.
8
Isabella
“Then, while their attention and forces are split, we attack their home in force. We find and cut off the head. Destroy the head then give the rest of the family the opportunity to join us,” Donnie says.
I can’t believe my ears. He’s going to kill my father!
I can’t… can’t what? Allow it? I’ve dreamed about him dying for years. No longer being under his control, stuck and having to put up with him.
I hate him, but can I let him die?
Absently, I rub the bruises on my wrist that still haven’t faded yet. The dull ache of those cuffs, the memory of that bag, all courtesy of my father. This is the man I can’t let die?
Donnie’s stunning eyes hold me like a snake holding a bird hostage with its gaze.
I can’t escape.
I don’t hear the rest of the words—I’m lost in Donnie’s eyes and my own internal debate. Am I selling my soul or breaking free?
I had no idea they were planning to strike back at him.
I guess I should have known. If it was my father, I would have predicted it from the start. My father could no more keep his word than an addict can avoid his addiction.
Then I realize this is the string. I knew there had to be one! No one does anything for free.
If I don’t give Donnie information, will he pull away his offer? The freedom he dangled in front of me? If he does, what do I do then?
If I go to my father—if I warn him—he’d take me back. I could return to my life. Money, guards, anything I want when I want it—at least, if money can buy it. Father was never stingy with me. Anything to buy my happiness. Anything but true affection—I don’t think he’s capable of that. I could go back to safety, back to what I know…
And I’d leave Donnie behind.
I stare at him, lost in his eyes. My lips tingle, recalling the kiss we shared, his rock-hard chest under my hand.
Desire, I guess—I don’t know what else to name it—pulses and beats inside my core.
I wanted more from him, things I’ve only dreamed of.
No man has ever touched me like that before.
My first kiss was with Donnie, and I want him to be my first… everything. I want him to take me, claim me, make me his…
“… Bella, is there anything you can tell us about Emilio Baldini’s compound? Security, number of men… anything would be most helpful.”
I blink, shake my head, then glance around the room.
They’re all looking at me, waiting.
“Uh, I’m sorry, what?”
Donnie smiles and it’s brilliant. It lights up the room while fanning the fire of desire in my core, sending it raging into a bonfire that everyone in the room must be able to see it’s burning me so hot.
They’re all watching, waiting…
I swallow hard.
I catch Maxwell looking. He looks so miserable, it breaks my heart. There’s a sadness about him that calls to me.
“Do you have any information that would be of assistance to us?” Donnie asks again. “You were close to the Baldini family, correct?”
How does he know that? What did I tell him that made him think that?
My brain is so fogged.
I run over every conversation we’ve had in my mind, but nothing should have given away who I am or how much I could tell them.
I know it all—security codes, patrols, numbers.
I know too much. I’m dangerous.
Most importantly, I’m free. I’m free to choose because this man, with his stunning eyes and hard body, saved me. He made the choice to risk everything for me—a total stranger. He didn’t walk away, he didn’t ignore my plight, and he has asked for nothing in return. Nothing until now.
Does he know? Did he figure out who I am? Is that why he’s asking?
“Uh,” I stall.
Decide, Isabella, decide. Throw the dice.
Do I stand with the monster that is my father or do I go against him?
Donnie’s eyes bore into me, waiting for my answer.
Questions circle my mind as I stand on the precipice of a decision that is going to alter my life forever.
In the end, it comes down to returning to the hell I know or taking a chance on this man I barely know, which is no choice at all.
I sit straighter, pull my shoulders back, and nod sharply.
“Yeah, I’ve seen some things,” I say, careful not to overcommit. I’m not ready to reveal my full identity yet. Trust only goes so far and has to be earned.
“Good,” Donnie says. “What can you tell us?”
“The house is always protected. I’ve been there a couple of times.” I dart a glance at Donnie, trying to judge how he’s taking my lies.
His slight smile reveals nothing which I hope is a good thing.
No one stops me or interrupts so I continue. “I’ve seen, I don’t know, maybe ten to fifteen different guys?”
Donnie nods and Francesca frowns, staring at me. She knows something—suspects, I’m sure of it. I can’t meet her eyes. They burn into me, calling me out on my lies. If she figures me out then she’ll tell Donnie.
Why do I care? He’s been nothing but nice to me. Respectful even, outside a stolen kiss, which I can’t stop thinking about.
Would he harm me if he knows who I really am?
My stomach churns faster, making me feel lightheaded and nauseous at the same time.
Swallowing har
d, I stare at the table, unable to speak.
“That’s very helpful,” Donnie says encouragingly.
“How are they armed?” Francesca asks, and I hear her chair squeak as she leans forward, looking suspicious.
“Um… ” Words won’t come easy. A cold sweat covers me as fear grips me in its tight embrace. “Guns. Big ones. Shotguns maybe.”
I’m an idiot. I’ve said too much. I know damn well how the men are armed, but would the friend of a numbers runner know such things? How do I justify knowing that each of the men carries an AK-47 as well as Glock sidearms with extra ammunition? A simple friend or even girlfriend isn’t going to know those things, is she?
“Big guns?” Francesca asks, and the men around the table snicker at the tone of her voice.
“Uh, yeah, they’re like… ” What do I say? Damn it, Isabella, figure it out; you’re on the spot now! “…you know, like the ones on television, in the wars. Like the ones soldiers carry.”
A couple of the men at the table whistle softly and a few mutter curses.
“And how many have you seen there?” Francesca continues.
My face burns and I want nothing more than to have not opened my big mouth in the first place.
I feel every one of their eyes staring at me like a burning force that’s making me wither away.
I can’t look up—if I see Donnie’s eyes, those amazing, deep eyes of his, I’ll crack. I’ll spill my guts in a deluge of tears and beg for forgiveness.
I can’t do it.
My fingers rub the table in front of me and I stare at the wood grain, seeing patterns in it that pull me in.
I glance around as covertly as I can with all their eyes on me and my eyes meet Maxwell. He’s staring at me too, but it’s different; his gaze is soothing. He understands; he gets where I am.
Something passes between us—like we’re both hiding secrets that we can’t let the others know.
A smile toys at the corners of his mouth and somehow, confidence fills me. I’m in deep, but I can handle this. There’s nothing they could do to me that I haven’t been through and worse under the hand of my own father.
“At least fifteen,” I say, raising my head and meeting Francesca’s eyes full on.
In my peripheral vision, I see Donnie watching.
I can’t meet his eyes, not yet, but I can meet hers. I can handle this.
Francesca purses her lips. “And you toured the grounds?”
“No,” I lie. “I went through the gates with Tommy. We went to an office or something. I waited in the hallway. That’s just what I saw on the way there and back out.”
“You sure there were fifteen? All different men? You didn’t count any twice?” she asks, rapid-fire.
“No, I’m not,” I say. “It’s an estimate.”
“Okay,” she says, leaning back in her chair.
I exhale sharply.
I’ve navigated my way through the choppy waters.
I could tell them more. Part of me wants to come clean and tell them everything.
I can’t, though. I’d have to reveal my lie, but it’s more than that—I can’t betray my father that way. What I’m giving them and not warning him is all the betrayal I can handle right now. Anything more is too much for me to bear, at least for now.
“Did that help?” I ask.
“Very much. Thank you, Bella,” Donnie says.
“If she saw that many, there will be double that, minimum,” Francesca says.
“Agreed,” Donnie says. “For our plan to work, they must pull at least half their forces to the meet.”
“What’s your plan?” I ask, my throat so dry my voice cracks.
Donnie smiles. “Simple—draw their forces away then we attack the compound.”
My heart stops. Attack the compound. Kill my father.
I lean back in my seat as nausea grips me tightly.
I take a slow, deep breath and close my eyes.
They talk and plan, but I don’t pay attention to any of it.
I’ve done it; I’ve betrayed my father. I’m cutting ties with the monster who raised me.
My wrists ache and the scent of that moldy bag over my head suddenly comes to me, and I know I’m doing the right thing.
My father he may be, but he’s also a monster—a monster who kills. A monster who has to be stopped.
I remember Tommy—poor Tommy who just wanted to take care of his mom.
I’ve done the right thing.
Papers shuffle and chairs squeak so I open my eyes to see everyone filing out of the room.
Donnie and I are now alone, staring at each other across the length of the conference table.
He smiles, and the weight lifts from my chest. My heart beats freely, and my breathing relaxes.
I feel something I’ve never felt before in my life, and I have to study it for a moment before I can put a name to it—freedom. I feel free to live my life, to be who I want to be. Free to do whatever I want to do. No restrictions, no fear of punishment or even of being killed. Or worse, someone I care about being killed to teach me a lesson.
“You’ve been very helpful, Bella,” Donnie says, walking toward me.
My heart jumps into overdrive as he moves closer.
A musky, masculine scent wafts to me—an intoxicating, heady perfume.
My belly tightens and moisture leaks from me as my breathing becomes shallow.
As Donnie moves closer and closer to me, thinking becomes harder. My thoughts are slow—like I’m in a thick fog.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
He reaches out and his fingers lightly stroke the back of my hand. Fire ignites in me under his touch. My skin burns where his fingers drag along, signals racing through my nerves, causing me to tremble.
I look into his eyes and fall into his rich, blue pools.
I’m lost to him.
He smiles then his touch is gone, and I’m left breathless, watching him walk away.
I swing my chair around and watch his retreating form—tall, broad, and muscular.
The strength and grace of his movement is impressive.
He fills his suit out beautifully.
I want to see him naked.
I want to know the secrets he hides beneath that cloth.
I want him to know me deeply, truly. I want him to know me in ways no man ever has.
A stolen kiss isn’t enough.
9
Isabella
My lips tingling in anticipation, I stand and follow Donnie as he walks into his office.
He shuts the door behind himself, but I open it and traipse in, a woman possessed.
I know, perhaps for the first time in my life, what I want, and for the first time, I’m going to take it.
I shut the door, my back to him, then turn the lock which makes a soft click.
“Bella,” he begins casually, but he stops as I move to the side of the door and pull the blinds down over the windows.
He remains silent as I move from window to window, pulling the blinds.
The light in the office dims as I block our view of the world outside.
“Bella,” he says again. “I want to thank you.”
After finishing the last window, I turn to face him.
I strut, swaying my hips, aware of every motion of my body as I move to him.
I hold up a hand between us, one finger raised and closing the distance between it and him until it reaches his lips.
“Shhh,” I say pressing that finger against his soft, malleable flesh.
A small smile plays across his lips as I lean in, and this time, as I prepare to replace my finger with my mouth, I’m the one stealing a kiss. One sweet, stolen kiss.
Our lips meet, then part.
My own lips tingle from the experience, and the tightness in my core increases until it feels like an all-consuming need that has to be obeyed.
Desire pushes aside all rational thought.
I explore his mouth, savoring the sensation
his lips create, tasting him on my own.
“This isn’t… ” he begins as he pulls away, but I shut him up again with another kiss.
He stiffens against me, so I lick his lips with my tongue, tasting him, requesting entry.
He gives in to my touch and his lips become malleable again, moving with mine.
Another part of him quickly stiffens—his hardened cock poking my stomach where I lean against him.
Desire controlling me as much as any thought of my own, I push him backward until he’s up against the desk, trapped between me and its edge as I press against him again.
Now his stiffness presses hard into my core. It’s a start.
His arms encircle me as we kiss.
Our lips move against each other as his hands grip my back and he traces circles with his fingers. Tingling sensations emanate from where he touches, radiating through me, increasing my carnal need.
It takes all my self-control not to drive my hands straight to the object of my desire.
What do I really know of what I want? This is so new—these feelings have never been so strong before.
His fingers dig into my back as we kiss and the passion between us increases.
I grip the top of his shirt, and in a moment of raging desire, pull with all my strength. The buttons of his shirt pop and fly around the two of us, clattering to the desk and floor.
I touch his exposed skin, moaning at the contact with his hard body beneath my fingertips. Nothing has ever felt better to my touch. His chest is hairless and muscled.
Pressing my palms against it, I can feel his heart pounding under the mounds of muscle that form beautiful masculine lines. I explore those lines by touch, tracing each sinew as his tongue penetrates my lips, seeking and finding my own.
His fingers drift to my blouse and slowly, so damn slowly, he unbuttons it. Cool air penetrates the opening, creating goosebumps on my skin.
His fingers trail across my bare flesh along the mounds of my breasts to the line of my bra. His palms cup my breasts and lift their weight, and I feel the bulge in his pants twitch and expand.
He groans softly into our kiss, and almost involuntarily, my hips buck against him, driving his hard bulge against my wet, tingling, still-clothed pussy.
