by Elle James
“Oh, Niccolo, we were just leaving Father’s study.” Isabella waved a hand toward the man. “This is Niccolo Costa, my father’s assistant. Niccolo, this is Ronin Magnus…my fiancé. Niccolo is the son of one of Father’s oldest friends. He’s working as Father’s assistant to learn the business. He hopes one day to run one of his own.”
For a split second, Costa’s eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened.
If Ronin hadn’t been watching him closely, he might not have caught the nuance because, in the next moment, Niccolo smiled and held out his hand.
Ronin took the man’s hand and almost dropped it. The man’s grip was weak and cold. He shook his hand with his usual strong grasp and let go.
Niccolo clasped both of his hands together, rubbing the one Ronin had shaken as if nursing a wound. “What a surprise. I didn’t know Isabella was dating. I didn’t realize she’d been out of the house for the past two weeks since she’d returned home.”
“It’s a long story,” Isabella said. She took Ronin’s hand and led him toward the door. “Right now, I’d like a shower and fresh clothes.”
“Perhaps you could tell me the story sometime. And also, why are you all wet?”
“Perhaps I would, if it were any of your business,” Isabella muttered under her breath as she dragged Ronin from the room and up a winding staircase he seemed to recognize.
Ronin stopped halfway up and frowned. “Isn’t this the place where I met you?”
He could picture her in her bandit costume, standing on the landing above, her hands on her hips, her eyes alight with daring and challenge.
“Your father is the man who hosted the masquerade ball?”
She nodded and continued up the stairs, urging him to follow. “Yes.”
“I understood the man who sponsored the annual ball was a billionaire shipping tycoon.”
She nodded. “Yes. That would be my father.”
“Holy hell.” As he put it together, Ronin pulled free of her hand and stood still on the stairs. “Pisano.” He said the name, rolling it around on his tongue. “Marcus Pisano?” He stared up at Isabella. “The Marcus Pisano who had an entire spread about him in that tabloid magazine? The self-made millionaire?”
Isabella sighed. “Billionaire. So, he’s my father. I am not my father.”
No, she wasn’t. But she was the daughter of a billionaire. Hell, way out of his league. What the hell could he offer her that she didn’t already have?
Nothing.
5
Isabella’s heart slipped into her belly as she saw the shock and anger slip across Ronin’s face.
“Oh, do what you like. I’m tired, wet and I want a shower. I don’t feel like answering questions about my father. Marcus Pisano is my father. I am his daughter. But that’s not all I am. I am a woman in charge of my own destiny. And right now, my immediate future includes a shower. Come along, or stay here. I don’t care.” She turned and marched up the stairs and into the bedroom that had been hers for most of her life.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
She would have smiled, but her heart hurt. Even Ronin had been affected by the knowledge she was the daughter of a very wealthy man.
Well, what had she expected? All her life, she’d been judged based on her father’s wealth. Everything about her had been made public until she’d disappeared into what everyone assumed was the wilds of Africa.
In Syria, she had been the Angel of Mercy, not the daughter of a wealthy man. She’d made differences in lives, not fashion. No one cared what designer dress she wore or what gala she attended. She was the gun-toting woman on a mission to save other women from fates worse than their own deaths.
And she had made a difference.
Isabella grabbed clean panties and a dress from her closet and entered the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Let Ronin think what he liked. She wasn’t her father. She could make it on her own. Hell, she’d fought her way out of enough tight situations she’d proven to herself she could survive without her father’s money and status.
The only reason she’d come back to Venice was the simple fact she loved her father, despite his overbearing attitude toward her. And Venice held memories she wasn’t ready to leave behind. Namely, her memories of Ronin and their time together during Carnival.
Yet, that time had been a masquerade. Ronin hadn’t known who she was. She could have been any guest at her father’s ball. He’d treated her like a woman, not a rich debutante. That was part of the reason he’d captured her attention and held it for so long. That and his incredible body packed tightly with muscles, and the way he made her come alive when he made love to her. She also loved his chuckle that seemed to come from deep inside him. The man had a sense of humor, despite what he’d witnessed in war.
When Isabella had returned to Venice, she’d needed a lighter look on life. After a year in Syria, fighting for women who didn’t know a better life, she’d seen some of the worst of human nature. Her heart was heavy with the loss of those she couldn’t help and those she’d left behind to defend themselves.
Seeing Ronin in Piazza San Marco had been an uplifting breath of freedom and fresh air all wrapped up in one strong man’s presence.
Now, he stood on the other side of that door, grappling with the fact she was a tycoon’s daughter. Would he walk away because she’d kept that little secret from him? Or would he want more of what her father could give him?
Isabella shook her head. She couldn’t imagine Ronin wanting to profit off her association with her father. No, he wasn’t that kind of guy. He fought the good fight for what was right. He wasn’t a gun for hire, and he wouldn’t be lured by money to do something against his code of ethics.
At least, that’s the Ronin Isabella remembered. Two years could change a person. She knew, because her time in Syria had changed her. For the better, she hoped.
Isabella peeled the damp clothing from her body and stepped into the large, spa-like shower surrounded by glass tile and white marble. She turned on the water and stepped underneath the spray before it warmed, loving the cool water washing across her warm skin. In the desert, she’d gone days, sometimes weeks without a shower. When possible, she’d bathed in streams in the dead of night to avoid detection by the enemy. The water had been frigid, but welcome as it was now.
Perhaps the cold temperature would chase away the heat she’d felt at Ronin’s touch.
She lifted her face to the spray, letting the little drops pummel her face and wash away the stench of the canal water. When the water warmed, she reached for the shampoo only to run into a thick, muscular arm.
Isabella spun, ready to fight only to find Ronin standing naked in the shower with her.
“Tell me to leave and I will. But I’d rather stay.” He lathered a handful of shampoo between his palms. “Your choice.”
She drew in a deep breath.
His gaze never left hers, though she stood before him as naked as they’d been only an hour before.
She sighed and nodded. “Stay.” Then she turned away from him and let him apply the shampoo to her hair.
He rubbed the suds into her scalp and massaged her head with firm, yet gentle strokes. Once he’d finished her hair, he moved his hands over her shoulders and down her arms.
The tension of the fight and flight from the bodyguards melted from her body and sluiced down the drain to be replaced by a different tension. One that built at her core and fanned out to the rest of her body in a heat that flowed to her very fingertips.
Ronin slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close to his body. His cock nudged her bottom.
“Do you know what you do to me?” she whispered.
“Sweetheart, it can’t be half of what you do to me.” His hands came up to cup her breasts, his fingers tweaking the tips of her nipples.
Isabella moaned and leaned against him. “Why can’t I resist you?”
He kissed the side of her neck, just below her ear. “Why would you want to?�
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“I’m a woman who likes control over her life.”
“And I make you lose that control?” He chuckled. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever heard.”
“Don’t you understand?” Isabella turned in his arms and cupped his cheeks between her hands. “I don’t want to be dependent on any man for anything.” She stared into his eyes, her heart beating so fast it made her dizzy. “Ever.”
“Darlin’, I don’t want a woman dependent on me for anything. I need a strong woman who can stand on her own, especially when I’m not around. Because, face it, I’m not around a lot. My gig with the Navy takes me away more than I’m home.”
She frowned as his words sucked away some of her internal argument. “I know that.”
“My buddies who married women who depended on them are all divorced. Those women needed men who came home every night. I’m not one of those men. That’s why I’m so attracted to you. You don’t need me.”
“But I want you.” She wanted him in a way that scared her more than an ISIS fighter with a machine gun pointed at her face. She wanted him to come back to her when he wasn’t out fighting the bad guys. She wanted him to make her forget all the horrors she’d seen in the desert. She wanted him to hold her, love her and make her remember what they had together.
“And I want you,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Not just for great sex—because, Bella, the sex is great—but because I can see in you a woman who knows her mind and isn’t afraid to use it.”
Isabella laughed, the sound choking on a sudden sob. “I want you so much, but I can’t do this.” Even if she hadn’t gone to Syria and incurred the wrath of a powerful ISIS leader, she still had the stigma of being a billionaire’s daughter. Wherever she went, she’d be hounded by media and opportunists looking for a way to make money off of her. If it wasn’t asking for her father to donate to their causes, they might take the less savory route of kidnapping her and holding her for ransom.
Ronin would just be a person standing in the way of those kinds of people getting to her. He’d be expendable. They’d kill him without batting an eyelash.
She pushed against his chest until she could look up at him.
Water droplets clung to his tanned face, making him even more handsome and irresistible.
“We can’t be together. My life is far too complicated, and it would put you in too much danger.”
His bark of laughter made her frown.
“Bella, I live for danger. It’s what I do.”
She shook her head. “Your kind of danger usually has a known enemy associated with it. The kind I’m talking about could be anyone walking down the streets of Venice, or New York City or anywhere else in the world. I never know who will try to grab me. My father has so much money, I’ve been pretty much imprisoned in this house since the day I was born. I get out on occasion, but usually accompanied by half a dozen bodyguards.”
“What about today?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I escaped from my babysitters and made a run for it.” Isabella waved a hand. “But they found me. And I’m lucky they did. If I hadn’t run into you, someone else would have kidnapped me and held me for ransom. Since my return to Venice, my father insisted I be injected with a GPS tracking device. He doesn’t want to lose me ever again.”
Ronin gripped her arms. “What do you mean? Where did you come back from?”
She glanced away. Now was the time to be frank and tell him the truth. If not for her own sake then to keep him safe from potential hitmen intent on collecting the bounty on her head.
Isabella took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t let my father know. He won’t like it and will forbid me to ever leave this house again.”
“Isn’t that where you are with him now?”
She shrugged. “He’ll let me out with bodyguards, but I mean it. You have to promise.”
Ronin held up a hand as if making a pledge in court. “I promise.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then leaned close in case listening devices had been installed in her bathroom since she’d been gone. One never knew, and it didn’t hurt to be cautious in this situation.
“Have you heard of the Angel of Mercy?” she whispered into his ear.
He frowned. “Maybe,” he hedged. “Tell me more.” His hands rested on her hips, holding her naked body close to his.
Isabella’s breasts rubbed against the taut muscles of his chest, stirring feelings she didn’t have time to act upon. But, oh, she wanted to. “The Angel of Mercy Abu Ahmad al-Jahashi has announced he wants captured or killed at any price?” She leaned back and waited for the recognition in Ronin’s eyes to hit.
He nodded, still frowning. “Yes. So?”
Isabella jabbed her chest with her thumb. “You’re looking at her.”
Ronin took a moment, letting her words sink into his head. They didn’t make sense. Isabella was a society princess, not a gun-toting mercenary whose mission was to free the women enslaved by ISIS.
Yes, she was strong. He could feel how sinewy her muscles were under her silky-soft skin. And her body was leaner, her beautiful face slightly weathered with fine lines showing around her mouth and eyes. And there were scars.
He ran his thumb along the scar beside her mouth and stared into her eyes.
She didn’t blink. This wasn’t a joke to her. Isabella was serious.
“Is that where you got this?” he asked about the scar he brushed his thumb across.
Isabella cupped his hand and leaned her cheek into his palm. “Yes. An ISIS leader backhanded me. He was wearing a ring he’d stolen off a Syrian he’d killed that day.”
Ronin raised his hand to the scar on her cheek. “And this?”
Her lips thinned. “That was from a rather mean man who tried to rape me when I’d allowed myself to be captured in order to get inside the compound where they’d taken a dozen women to be used as slaves.” Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “I killed him.”
Ronin thought he’d known this woman, but there was so much more to her than he’d given her credit for. “You’re the Angel of Mercy everyone has been talking about?” he said, needing to say it out loud so he could believe.
She nodded. “I don’t call myself that. The women I helped to rescue gave me that title.” Her lips quirked upward. “I don’t know that I deserve it.” Smile fading, Isabella leaned her forehead against his chest. “When al-Jahashi put that price on my head, he also made a promise that whosoever helped me in my mission would be punished. One of the women who’d hidden me during one of my raids was found out. She was paraded naked through the streets, then raped and beheaded.”
Ronin touched a finger beneath her chin and raised her face to his. Tears mingled with the water from the cooling shower spray. “You did not kill that woman. Al-Jahashi did. You couldn’t save them all.”
“I wanted to.” She sniffed. “He killed three other women who’d had nothing to do with me. Just to show his commitment to finding me. That’s when I knew I had to leave.” She drew in a deep breath. “So, you see, my life is very complicated. I never know if someone will attack me to get a ransom out of my father. Or if someone will kidnap me to take me back to al-Jahashi. Or if someone will just kill me. I’m sure al-Jahashi will pay the price for my body, dead or alive.” She gave him a weak smile. “Now, are you as interested in a relationship with me, knowing what a mess my life is?”
He released a breath and gave her a tight smile. “Even more so,” he said, his voice husky.
“Oh, dear. That was not my intention.” She laughed, the sound coming out more as a hiccup. “I was trying to scare you away.”
“I told you, I’m not easily scared.”
“Not even by my blustery father?”
Ronin shook his head. “The man is only trying to keep you safe.” He gathered her close, reached behind her and shut off the water. Silently, he toweled her dry, squeezing the water out of her ha
ir.
Isabella used another towel to absorb the water from his skin. By the time she worked her way down his torso, he was hard and ready for what could come next. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to make a sexual move on her. Not when she’d just told him she had a price on her head. The woman had to be nervous, jumping at shadows.
ISIS had many followers all over the world. Communication could have been spread through the computer network, and every terrorist in every country could be on the lookout for her. She might as well remain holed up in her father’s mansion, surrounded by bodyguards and security cameras.
“Why did you escape your bodyguards today? Especially, knowing how dangerous that could be.”
She nodded. “I needed air. I was missing my partner, Asaf, the man who’d taught me everything I needed to know before I went to Syria. He was with me through most everything until the last.” Her breath caught, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “He was killed as we attempted to cross the border from Syria back into Turkey.”
Ronin’s chest tightened. He wrapped the towel around Isabella and tucked the end in between her breasts. “Did you love him?”
She smiled. “Yes. I did love him.” Then her gaze met his. “Like a very dear, older brother.” Isabella shook her head. “Are you jealous?”
He shrugged. “Yes. You spent a year or more with this man. That’s long enough to fall in love.”
“I spent a little over a week with you. I didn’t need a year to know my feelings for you.”
His gaze locked with hers. “And what are those feelings?”
She turned away, lifted a brush off the counter and dragged it through the tangles. “That I want you. That, if things were different, I could spend my life getting to know more about you. But my world is too…
“Complicated,” he finished for her.
She nodded, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I can’t ask you to be a part of the chaos. This is my world. I have to live in it. You do not.”
“What if I want to? What if I choose to be in your world?”
