Page 19 of Dark Desires (Chicago Bratva #1)

ISABELLA

M ario’s hot on my heels as I step out of the car, the glass facade of Omar’s office building glittering in the morning sun.

“Not a good idea,” he mutters. “In fact, it’s a terrible idea.”

I tune him out.

“I just don’t see the point of this, Isa,” Mario says. We pause, and he glances up at the sleek skyscraper. “The wedding’s scheduled. You’re only going to cause trouble. And after what your dad said…”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” I give him a smirk over my shoulder as I head toward the entrance. “Let me work my magic. Trust me—you’ll see my brilliant plan before too long.”

Mario says something else under his breath, but that’s the end of it. We head inside.

The lobby is all polished marble and big, open spaces. It screams money and power—Omar’s clearly done well for himself straight out of law school. I approach the front desk.

“Hi!” I say, sounding extra chipper. “I’m looking for Omar Rose. Tall, handsome, fresh out of law school.”

“Uh huh.” The receptionist seems to sense that something’s up. “Your business?”

“I’m his girlfriend’s cousin. We’re planning a big surprise party, and he told me to come here so we could chat about it. Wait, these aren’t going to be billable hours, are they?”

I wink, but she’s not amused.

She sighs, turning to the computer.

“Let me call him to see if he’s expecting you.”

“Of course.”

She picks up the phone, and Mario pulls me aside.

“ Is he expecting you?” he asks quietly.

“I mean, no . But come on—he’s got to talk to me when he hears who it is.”

Mario sighs, shaking his head at the realization that this whole plan of mine could be rendered null and void with a simple no from Omar.

“He says he can meet,” the receptionist says. “But only for a few minutes.”

“That’s all I need.”

“Come this way.”

The receptionist escorts me to the elevator, as if wanting to make sure I don’t sneak off somewhere I shouldn’t. Mario and I get in, and she presses the button for the appropriate floor.

“Please don’t do anything crazy,” Mario says. “Let’s just talk to this guy and get out.”

“Do you think I’m planning on doing a striptease in the middle of the offices?”

He laughs. “With you, who knows?”

The doors open to reveal a bustling, open space with dozens of clerks zipping here and there. The receptionist on this floor directs me to Omar’s office, and I’m soon on my way.

“Fancy,” I say as I approach the door with his name on the front. “Barely out of law school, and he’s already got a private office.”

“It’s… odd,” Mario replies.

I knock, and a voice calls out to enter, so I do.

I can’t help but take a mental note of the space as I open the door. It’s modern and minimalist, with a huge window overlooking the city and shelves lined with thick law books. It seems too grand for someone who’s not even been practicing law for a full year.

Omar stands to greet me. He’s in his mid-twenties, wearing a sharp suit and a disarming smile. His dark, wavy hair and deep brown eyes give him a brooding Colombian vibe that’s impossible to ignore.

“Isabella Mancini,” he says. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” His tone is polite, but wary.

“I came to talk about Stephania.”

The warmth in his expression fades, replaced by something heavier. “Stephania?”

“Yes, Stephania. You know, my cousin, who’s madly in love with you?” I take a seat without waiting for an invitation, crossing my legs and leaning back. “Figured it was about time we had a chat. This is Mario, by the way. He’s my bodyguard.”

Mario utters a quick “Hello” as he takes a position behind my chair.

Omar hesitates, his hands resting on the edge of his desk. “Isabella, I?—”

“Isa. Everyone calls me Isa. And don’t try to brush me off. I’ve seen the messages. You two are obviously crazy about each other.”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, he looks like he might argue. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Stephania means everything to me. But it’s not that simple. I mean, she’s marrying someone else!”

I lean forward, raising an eyebrow. “It’s never simple with love. But you’re not seriously going to tell me you’re just going to let her marry someone else without a fight, are you?”

Omar’s face darkens. “If I could, I’d give her the world. But this… it’s dangerous, Isabella. My father—he’s not a man to cross.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Fear?

I’m confused. “Your father? What does he have to do with this?”

Omar shakes his head. “My father sees everything as an opportunity. If he found out about Stephania and me, he’d use it. Against her. Against your family. I can’t let that happen.”

I don’t even know where to begin. “Why would he use his son dating someone against her? I don’t get it.”

My mind is swimming with questions, but there’s a sudden knock at the door. The sound might as well be an explosion for the way it makes us all tense.

“Who is it?” Omar calls out.

The door creaks open, and my eyes dart toward it. A man steps inside, and the energy in the room shifts so fast it nearly gives me whiplash.

He’s tall, with salt-and-pepper hair that’s perfectly styled, a neatly trimmed beard that gives him an air of authority, and a suit that probably costs more than a year’s rent at a penthouse in the Loop. His presence is magnetic, the kind that makes you sit up straighter whether you want to or not.

But it’s his eyes that get me—dark, calculating, like he’s already dissecting the room and everyone in it.

Omar shoots to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor.

“Dad!” He’s totally surprised. Speak of the devil, I suppose.

Omar’s dad raises a hand, a smooth smile spreading across his face. “I apologize for interrupting, but there’s something I need to discuss with you, Omar.” His voice is rich, silky, like he’s used to stepping into rooms and taking control of them.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Omar says.

His dad only chuckles, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You mean I can’t just drop in and speak to my own son?”

“It’s just… I’m busy.”

I glance past Omar’s dad, spotting two hulking men in suits just outside the office. Bodyguards? I glance over to Mario to see that he’s moved closer to me, as if anticipating danger.

Omar’s dad’s gaze shifts to me, and that smile widens just a touch. “And who might this lovely young woman be?”

I stand, not liking having my back to this guy. “Isabella,” I say, offering a polite nod.

His expression doesn’t falter, but I swear I catch the briefest flicker of something in his eyes. Recognition? Amusement? It’s hard to tell.

“Ah. A pleasure, Miss Isabella. I’m Christian de la Rosa.” His tone is light. He even winks as he speaks.

My heart skips a beat. Christian de la Rosa? De la Rosa is Omar’s father ?

My brain scrambles to process this while Christian moves closer, his attention still fixed on me.

“I see my son’s law firm attracts the most intriguing clients,” he says.

“I’m not a client,” I reply, forcing a small smile. “Just an acquaintance.”

“Ah, well, my son has intriguing acquaintances then,” Christian says with a chuckle before turning his attention back to Omar. “Anyway, we need to speak, son.”

Omar stiffens, but nods. “Of course, Dad. Give me a moment.”

I blink, my brain catching up. Rose . That’s why Omar’s last name isn’t de la Rosa. He changed it, probably to avoid being associated with his criminal father. It all makes sense now and is also ten times more alarming.

Omar looks at me, his expression almost apologetic. “I’ll catch up with you later, Isa.”

I nod, forcing myself to keep it together. “Sure. It was nice meeting you, Mr. De la Rosa.” My voice comes out polite, though every instinct is telling me to get the hell out of this office.

Christian gives me one last charming smile. “The pleasure was mine.”

Without saying a word, Mario places his hand on my upper back and guides me out of the room.

As soon as we’re out of the office, the door shut, Mario leans close.

“We need to go. Now.”

The moment we’re in sight of the elevators, I exhale, realizing I’ve been holding my breath.

“Mario,” I whisper, gripping his arm. “Was that?—”

It’s a stupid question. I mean, who would it be—some other Christian de la Rosa?

He nods, his expression grim. “Yeah. It’s him.”

“Do you think he… does he know who I am?”

Mario’s jaw tightens. “I don’t know for sure. But we’re not taking chances. Let’s get out of here.”

My mind is spinning, the pieces clicking into place. Omar’s warnings, his hesitations, everything suddenly makes sense. And now I’m caught in the middle of something so much bigger—and more dangerous—than I could’ve imagined.

The car hums along the quiet downtown streets. Mario’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his usual stoic demeanor barely holding together.

“That man,” I say, breaking the silence. “That’s the guy who wants to go to war with my family. That’s the guy who attacked the party.”

Mario nods. “Looks that way. And I can’t shake the feeling that his being there at the same time as you wasn’t a coincidence.”

I swallow hard, the knot in my stomach tightening. My mind races. Omar didn’t seem like a guy caught up in cartel business—he seemed sweet, normal. But then, sweet, normal guys don’t usually have Christian de la Rosa as a father.

Before I can press Mario further, the SUV suddenly jerks to a stop. A sleek black car pulls across our path, blocking the road. My heart jumps into my throat as two men step out, dressed in sharp suits, their expressions unreadable.

Shit. Not again. Are these more of Christian’s men coming to finish the job?

No. They’re tall men with dark hair and blue eyes—Ivanov people, through and through.

“It’s Alexei’s people,” Mario confirms, already reaching for the door handle. “Stay here.”

“What’s going on?”

“No goddamn idea.”

One of the suited men approaches, leaning down to the window. “Miss Mancini,” he says, “Mr. Plushenko requests your presence immediately.”

“You’re serious?” I ask. “He’s just going to fetch me like some servant?”

The man doesn’t respond, just gestures toward their car. Mario stands by, looking torn between intervening and following orders.

“You’re under no obligation to talk to him,” he says. “Say the word, and I’ll send them off.”

“Mr. Plushenko says it’s important,” one of the men adds.

I sigh. “Fine. Mario, tell Dad I’m with Alexei’s men.”

“Got it,” he replies.

With that, I open the door and step out, and the two men flank me. We head to the car, and one of the men opens the door for me. I slide into the back seat.

The ride is silent, the tension suffocating, and when we pull up to Ivanov Holdings, my nerves are already shot.

I’m escorted to an office where Alexei is standing by his desk, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up. He looks every bit the intimidating mob boss.

“Care to explain why you were meeting with Christian de la Rosa?” he asks.

“Care to explain why your people are stopping me in the middle of the street and demanding I come with them?” I shoot back, crossing my arms. “How did you even know that I met him?”

“Because the Ivanovs have been tailing De la Rosa for the last week. Imagine my surprise when you ended up in the same building.”

“You could’ve called me to have this meeting, you know. That is, unless you were somehow determined to make me relieve the trauma of the last time a car pulled in front of me like that.”

Alexei doesn’t smile. Instead, he gestures to the chair across from his desk.

“Sit.”

I don’t like being ordered around, but I sit anyway.

“It wasn’t a meeting,” I start. “I went to see someone I know. It ended up being Christian’s son.”

Confusion spreads across Alexei’s face. “I don’t get it. You went to visit Christian’s son? But you didn’t know he was his son?”

Shit. I decide the only way forward is honesty.

“He’s the guy Stephania is in love with.”

He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t appear hurt or betrayed in the slightest. I didn’t think that Alexei was actually into Stephania, but his muted reaction to this little bombshell answered the question anyway.

“Stephania’s in love with him?”

“They’ve been together for a while. Well, as together as they can be in their situation.”

He glances away for a second, clearly trying to process.

“OK, so Stephania’s been sneaking around seeing none other than Christian de la Rosa’s son. But she doesn’t know he’s his son.”

“There’s no way she knows. Christian’s only been a name in our lives for the last few weeks. And his son goes by a different last name.”

“And you went to talk to him, why?”

“Because I hate this.” The words shoot out of my mouth.

Silence hangs in the air.

“Hate this?”

“Yeah. I hate that my cousin is marrying a man she doesn’t love, who doesn’t love her, when a guy she’s crazy about is right there.”

“So, you figured you’d go behind everyone’s back and try to ruin our arrangement?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. It’s just that none of this feels right to me. Not to mention…” I trail off and place my hand on my belly.

“That’s a whole other issue, Devotchka . And one that we’ll discuss later. For now, we need to figure out this thing with Omar and Stephania. Is he in her life for a specific purpose?”

“I don’t think he is,” I say quickly. “He doesn’t appear to have anything to do with his father’s business. He’s a lawyer, fresh out of law school. Works at this big firm, seems legit. And he probably changed his last name to get out from under Christian’s shadow.”

“And yet his father walked into his office like he owns the place. That’s not a man who has let go of his son.”

I frown, the pieces swirling in my head but refusing to come together. “Christian said he was there on business—like he’s a client of the firm. But something doesn’t add up. Omar was nervous. Like, really nervous, after his dad came in.”

“And you said Stephania is in love with him?”

I nod. “Yeah. And he’s in love with her, too. But obviously, he’s scared of his father.”

Alexei straightens, his entire body going tense. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

He meets my gaze, his expression dark and serious. “Christian de la Rosa doesn’t make moves without a reason. If his son is in love with Stephania, and he knows who she is, this isn’t just about Omar.”

“It’s about my family,” I finish, my stomach dropping.

Alexei nods. “Christian’s trying to get close either to manipulate your family or destroy it. And he’s using his son to do it. I’d bet you anything that’s what’s happening.”

The realization sends a chill down my spine. We’ve been looking at this all wrong.

And there’s a damn good chance we might be playing right into De la Rosa’s hands.