by Elle James
“Don’t answer,” she dropped the sheet and grabbed for her clothes, pulling the shirt over her head and dragging her trousers up over her hips.
“Who else would it be, besides the clerk?” Ronin shook his head and turned toward the door.
“Please,” Isabella said. “You never know. It could be someone who wants to hurt us.” She jammed her feet into her shoes, her heart racing. Her gut was telling her they had to get out of there. She threw open the window and leaned out, only to curse in Italian. The third-story window had a three-story drop to the murky canal below.
Ronin gripped her arms from behind. “You can’t be serious. Jumping into the canal from this high up can get you killed. You don’t know what’s beneath the surface of the water.”
“We can’t stay.”
Pounding sounded on the door again, and someone shouted in Italian, “Apri la porta!”
“What is he saying?” Ronin asked.
“Open the door.” Isabella scooped the sheet from the floor and tied the end to the bedframe near the window. Then she yanked the bottom sheet off the mattress and tied it to the sheet tied to the bed.
“What are you doing?” he asked again, raking a hand through his hair. His dark brow furrowed.
“We have to get out of here,” she insisted. “Before they break down the door.”
“Why would they break down the door?”
“To get to us. To hurt us.” She shied away from saying me. The people after her wouldn’t hesitate to hurt or kill anyone with her, so it wasn’t just about her life. Ronin’s life was equally in danger.
The pounding stopped. For a moment, Isabella thought perhaps that whoever had been at the door had gone away. But for how long and how far? Were they on the other side, waiting for them to emerge?
Then a loud bang on the door sounded, and the frame split but held.
“We have to leave,” she whispered furiously. “Now. Before someone gets hurt.”
Ronin’s gaze locked with hers. His expression hardening. “Who would want to hurt us?”
She shook her head. “No time to explain. Just go.” Isabella took his hand and laid the sheet in it. “You go first.”
Ronin glanced out the window and frowned. “If you’re so certain someone is trying to hurt us, you should go first.”
“Please,” she begged. “Go.”
Another loud crash sounded at the door, and it slammed open.
Isabella shoved Ronin toward the window and planted herself between the two men rushing into the room, and the man behind her.
“Tu chi sei?” she demanded.
Neither man spoke. Instead, they started to push past her.
No. They couldn’t hurt Ronin.
Dropping into a ready stance, Isabella waited for the right moment, and then sprang. She caught one of the men by surprise, knocking him into the other guy.
Both men slammed to the floor, one on top of the other. While they struggled to untangle themselves from each other, Isabella turned to Ronin. “Jump,” she said.
Ronin pushed the sheet into her hands. “Ladies, first,” he bit out.
“No, you—”
Before Isabella could finish her sentence, Ronin grabbed her around her waist and swung her over the window ledge. “Hold on tight.”
Isabella grabbed the sheet and glanced up at the rugged SEAL. “But what about you?”
“I’m right behind you.” He turned just as one of their attackers launched himself toward them, and threw a punch that connected with the side of his face. “Now, go!” he shouted over his shoulder.
Isabella shimmied down the makeshift rope of sheets to the canal below. When she ran out of sheet, she let herself drop into the water. It was over her head and she went under. She surfaced and glanced up at the window three stories over her head.
Ronin had yet to climb out the window. What was taking him so long?
An unfamiliar face leaned out the window, holding the sheets in his hand. He let go and the sheet drifted down to the water. Then he disappeared back into the room above.
Isabella kicked hard, propelling herself toward an opening in the wall. She dragged her body up onto a landing and ran through an alley, emerging in front of Hotel Eden in time to run into her two bodyguards.
In Italian she said, “Hurry, follow me.” She burst through the door in time to find the other two attackers hauling Ronin down the stairs, unconscious.
Her heart leaped into her throat, and she shot forward, ready to take on the men who’d hurt her love.
She didn’t get far. The bodyguards behind her snagged her arms and held her back.
In Italian, she demanded, “What are you doing? Let go of me.”
The big one named Lorenzo responded. “They are protecting you from this man.”
“What?” Isabella stopped struggling. It wasn’t getting her anywhere, and she had to clear up this mess. “The man is unconscious. They hurt him. How is he a threat to me?” She glared at the two men holding Ronin. “That man is with me. Unhand him, at once!” she demanded. “I order you to let him go.”
The men shook their heads as one.
“They cannot.” Lorenzo interjected. “They are following your father’s orders.”
“This is ridiculous.” She shook free of Lorenzo’s grip and glared at Matteo, the other man holding her arm, until he released her, too. “I’ll have words with my father.”
Lorenzo nodded.
Isabella crossed to Ronin and cupped his face. A goose-egg-sized knot was forming on his forehead. She touched it gently, and he moaned.
His eyes fluttered open for a moment. When he saw her standing in front of him, he closed them again.
She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump forming in her throat, praying his injuries weren’t life-threatening. “What are you going to do with this man?”
“We’re taking him to your father.” Lorenzo jerked his head to the side.
The two men holding Ronin up carried him through the cramped lobby and out the door to the street beyond.
Isabella hurried to keep up with them.
They didn’t stop until they reached a portal to the canal.
When they looked like they would drop Ronin into the boat, Isabella cried out, “Wait.”
She climbed down into the boat and held out her arms. “Okay, you can ease him into the boat.”
They lowered Ronin until his feet touched the bottom of the little boat.
Isabella hooked her arm around his waist and tried to absorb his weight as the two big men released him.
She held him up for a moment, but he was still unconscious and a deadweight against her. She sat down hard on a padded seat and tried her best to keep him from banging his head again on something hard.
The four bodyguards climbed into the boat. Lorenzo took the helm and guided the craft through the canals to her father’s palatial mansion.
Her heart beating hard in her chest, Isabella braced herself for the upcoming confrontation with her strong-willed father. She wondered how many of her secrets she would have to reveal in order to save Ronin from further injury.
She inhaled a deep breath and followed the two big men carrying Ronin into the building. They carried him into her father’s study and deposited him onto a leather couch.
Isabella dropped to her knees beside him and touched her fingers to the base of his neck, searching for a pulse. Her breath held until she felt the strong, steady beat beneath her fingertips.
Andre, the butler, entered a moment later, carrying a tray with an assortment of tea things, including a pot and several teacups.
“Andre, call for the doctor,” Isabella commanded. “Tell him it’s urgent.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” came a booming voice from the foyer. Her father, a big man with an even bigger personality, entered the room.
Marcus Pisano was a self-made multi-millionaire who’d clawed his way to the top of the shipping and import-export business. He’d started out as a po
or boy from the one of the dirtiest neighborhoods of Rome and worked his way up. Known as a shrewd and ruthless businessman, he didn’t suffer fools, nor did he hesitate to call them out.
Ronin moaned and opened his eyes. When he saw Isabella and the four men standing behind her, he pushed up on his elbows. “Isabella, run,” he said, his voice husky. He swayed and would have fallen back if Isabella hadn’t been there to steady him.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “They aren’t going to hurt you.”
“I’m not worried about me,” he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I’m worried about you.”
“They won’t hurt me.” She pursed her lips and glared at Marcus Pisano. “They work for my father.”
Ronin leaned forward, over his knees and buried his face in his hands. He winced with his fingers bumped against the knot on his forehead. “Your father? I don’t understand.”
“Let me explain,” Isabella’s father said in English. “You were found with my daughter. My bodyguards assumed you’d kidnapped her. They subdued you and brought you here. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t turn you over to the police and have you arrested for assault and wrongful imprisonment?”
“You can’t have him arrested.” Isabella leaped to her feet and placed herself between Ronin and her father. “This man is my fiancé.”
Ronin shook his head, trying to make sense of what was going on. He started to open his mouth and protest Isabella’s words, but it was exactly what he’d wanted from her. He might not have known what he’d hoped to gain out of coming to Venice when he’d set out to find Isabella, but after seeing her and making love to her like no time had passed between them, he knew. He wanted her in his life forever.
But she’d been the one insisting on no strings, no commitment. Then why was she announcing their engagement to her father? Hell, Ronin hadn’t even asked her to marry him yet.
And why the hell did his head hurt so fucking bad?
Then he remembered. While he’d been punching one of the goons who’d stormed their room at Hotel Eden, the other had stepped up beside him with a chair and hit him in the head with it.
Ronin touched the knot and winced.
Fiancé.
Funny, but he’d never expected to hear that word in relation to himself. For that matter, he’d never expected his brother Wyatt to marry, or his other brother Mack to get engaged. They were career military men, each in their chosen branch and following a path they’d entered upon completion of high school.
From a family legacy of military men, Ronin knew the hardships military families lived with when the soldier, sailor, airman or Marine was deployed. Hell, he’d seen his mother and father struggle to keep their shit together when they were separated for six months to a year and a half at a time. He didn’t wish that on any woman. His mother had been strong, but she’d had moments when she’d cried her heart out, wondering if her husband would return home alive or in a body bag.
Ronin had sworn he’d never marry, just to avoid that kind of heartache. But he hadn’t met Isabella when he’d made that promise to himself. After two years of wondering what had happened to the woman he’d found in Venice, all the nights thinking about her, wishing she was lying beside him, he couldn’t stay away a moment longer.
Now that he had found her, he couldn’t imagine letting her go again. But was it right for him to suggest a life with him? Hell, it didn’t matter at the moment, she’d just announced their engagement to her father. Perhaps she’d changed her mind and wanted to be with him, no matter the cost.
He could always hope, and do his best to make her happy when they were together.
When his head stopped spinning, he looked up, capturing Isabella’s gaze first. She reached out her hand.
He grabbed it and held on, pushing to his feet. His vision blurred, but he blinked hard, forcing back the gray clouds until he could see straight and stand without swaying. Finally, he faced the man who stood as tall as he in a black, pinstripe business suit, sporting a red tie. He was barrel-chested with olive-toned skin, and black-haired with bold streaks of gray. The man was an imposing figure. But he didn’t scare Ronin.
Ronin slipped one hand around Isabella’s waist and held out his other hand to the man he assumed was her father. “Mr. Pisano, Ronin Magnus.”
Isabella’s father narrowed his eyes and stared into Ronin’s face without taking his hand.
After a moment, Ronin dropped his outstretched arm and squared his shoulders. “I would have first asked you for Isabella’s hand in marriage, but it all happened so fast, I didn’t have time.” Which was true. And he hadn’t thought she’d say yes. But her father didn’t have to know that.
“As far as I’m concerned, there is no engagement.” Her father lifted his chin and stared down his nose at Ronin. “You’re American, no?”
Ronin nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Pisano snorted. “Americans are loud, arrogant and annoying.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“It doesn’t matter how he feels about Americans,” Isabella said. “I love this man and intend to marry him.”
Hearing her defense of him made Ronin’s heart swell.
“You cannot have known him long enough to know your heart,” her father said.
“I’ve known him for two years.”
“How can that be?” Her father shook his head. “You’ve been gone for the past year.”
“We met two years ago,” Ronin answered. “Here. In Venice.”
Mr. Pisano stared at Ronin suspiciously. “This is the first I’ve heard of you.”
The man had a point. If Ronin were in his shoes, he’d be just as hesitant to believe the story they were telling.
“We met two years ago and fell in love. But I’m a military man. I’ve been deployed. It wasn’t until yesterday I could return to find my Isabella,” Ronin pulled her closer to his side. “I came to find the woman I couldn’t get out of my mind or heart.”
Pisano snorted. “Two years is a long time. Too long. I will not agree with this union.” He jerked his head toward one of the bodyguards. “Show him out of my home.”
A big guy with dark eyes and coal-black hair advanced on him.
Isabella stepped between them and held up her hand. “No. If you throw out Ronin, I’m going with him.”
“You’ll stay where you belong,” Pisano said.
“I belong with my fiancé,” she shot back at him. “I go where he goes.”
For a long moment, the father and daughter glared at each other.
Ronin fought the urge to laugh. They looked so much alike in their stubborn stances.
Finally, Mr. Pisano sighed. “Very well. He will stay with us, here. I’m a firm believer in keeping your enemy close.” With that final word, the elder Pisano spun and left the room.
Three of the bodyguards followed, leaving the big guy with the black hair.
In perfect English, he said, “Your father is only trying to protect you. There have been attempts on his life. He does not wish for you to be hurt. When you leave his home, please, don’t try to leave without me and the other bodyguards assigned.”
Isabella raised her chin, much like her father had. “I’ll do as I please.”
Lorenzo nodded. “You make our duties more difficult. But we will prevail.”
Lorenzo left Isabella and Ronin alone.
Ronin waited until he knew no one could overhear their conversation before he pulled Isabella into his arms. “What was that all about?’
“I had to say it.”
“That you are my fiancé?” He smoothed damp hair out of her face. “Why?”
Her gaze shot to the corner of the room. “I knew if I didn’t, my father might have had you arrested or worse.”
“Worse?”
“Some of my father’s enemies have…how shall I say…disappeared.” She looked up at him, her eyebrows meeting at the center of her forehead. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“So, you lied to your father to save my ass.” Ronin shook his head. “Not that I’m complaining. I only wish you were my fiancé.”
She laid a hand on his chest. “You know it cannot be. I can’t bring you into my life. I have too many secrets that could destroy us both.”
He gripped her arms and forced her to look him square in the eye. “What secrets?”
“Secrets not even my father knows,” she whispered.
“Then tell me. I need to know what I’m up against.”
She reached up to touch the lump on his forehead, stopping short. “You’ve already been hurt because of me. We need to stage a breakup and you can go back home. Come. We can do it now.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the foyer.
Ronin dug his heels in, refusing to fall in with her plan. She was afraid of something, and he’d be damned if he left now without knowing what that something was. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m in Venice for two weeks. I’m not leaving until I’m good and ready. Preferably with you.” He clamped his arm around her waist and crushed her body against his. “I didn’t come all this way to be scared away.”
“But you don’t understand. My life is…complicated.”
“And mine isn’t?” He chuckled. “Kiss me and tell me you want me to leave.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No.”
He lowered his head until their mouths were so close he could taste her breath. “Kiss me,” he whispered.
She stiffened, her hands on his chest as if to push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt, and she dragged him closer. Isabella rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his, thrusting her tongue past his teeth to caress his in a long, sweeping motion that left him in little doubt of her attraction to him.
He took her offering and gave back, thrusting and tangling his tongue with hers until they were both breathless.
The sound of someone clearing his throat interrupted their moment.
Isabella ducked her head and moved back a step.
Ronin let one hand drop to the side, resting the other at the small of her back when they both turned to face the young man wearing a similar suit to the one Mr. Pisano had worn.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, his English perfect with just a hint of an Italian accent.
