Page 53 of Dark Desires

I sigh. “Shit.”

CHAPTER 17

ISABELLA

“And there’s my wayward daughter.”

Dad’spissed. I can tell because his face is totally blank.

My father is not a normal kid of guy, where he turns red and angry when he’s really upset. No. He getscalm. Mario is at his side, his hands folded behind his back.

“Sorry, Mar,” I say sheepishly. “Just needed a little time to myself.”

Mario glances at Alexei, a look passing between them, but says nothing.

Alexei approaches my father. For a moment, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Then, Dad extends his hand and Alexei takes it.

“Thank you,” my father says. “Someone needs to keep an eye on her.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Mancini.” Alexei lets go of Dad’s hand. “We’re soon to be allied, which means that our families need to look out for one another.”

“Indeed they do.”

Alexei smiles. “I’ll leave her to you, then. Would you like my men to stay stationed around the property?”

Dad shakes his head. “No, we should be fine. I thank you again.”

Alexei glances over his shoulder at me as he turns to leave. There’s the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. “If you need anything else, please—don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Listen to your father, Is. He cares about keeping you safe.”

“Noted.”

Alexei climbs into his car and drives off. I watch him leave, my eyes on the missing window. God, I’d come so close to dying. Maybe Dad’s right about just staying put in the house. If Alexei hadn’t been there…

I don’t even want to think about it.

“Any chance you can stick around?” I ask Mario. “Might need a buffer.”

“Cute,” he replies. But it’s clear he’s not happy in the slightest.

“Mario, I’d like to talk to my daughter,” Dad says.

“Understood.”

Mario shakes his head at me and walks off.

“Come with me, Isabella.”

I follow Dad into the house, my stomach tied up in knots. He’s going to rip me a new one, and the worst part? He doesn’t know about the secret I’m carrying.

“Den.” The single word booms through the entryway.

We make our way to the room, and I sink into one of the oversized leather armchairs, the warmth of the fire licking at the edges of the space. Dad takes his usual seat across from me, his expression unreadable.

But he doesn’t yell. He leans back, rubbing his temple, and then fixes me with a steady gaze.

“Isabella, you know I don’t ask for much.”