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22

ISABELLA

F or two days, I've been locked in this room.

Two long days, all alone.

There’s a TV, and a few magazines, but I can’t sit still. And I can’t engage myself in anything other than the danger of my situation. Worse, I can’t get an answer to a single question I have about what’s to become of me, what’s going on outside, what Alessandro and his brothers are up to.

So I’ve resorted to keeping track of the movement I can see through my window, overlooking a small courtyard in the back of the house. It’s menial, a small garage for the security and Alessandro’s grunts.

They come in and leave at all hours, a constant stream of grim-looking, dark-haired men in dark suits and streetwear. All packing an arsenal of weaponry.

Clearly, they're mobilizing, sending men out in groups on missions. I've seen some come back to the house, spattered in gore. Sometimes they’re carrying someone with them. Usually in a body bag.

It's horrifying.

A soft knock interrupts my vigil, announcing my lunch, brought by a young woman in a maid’s uniform. She smiles uncomfortably, like always, nodding as she sets out my plate and drink.

Then she’s gone, again.

The same as every other time.

Sometimes it’s a man. Or another woman.

All the same.

None of them will speak to me, clearly under order, possibly under threat. The only thing it has shown me is that they don’t intend to torture me or throw me in a dark cell.

Not yet, anyway.

But it dawns on me that they might very well leave me here, forget about me. Let me rot until I cave and beg to be released. Or tell them what they want to know.

Sadly, I wish I knew enough to be a real liability to them. At least then someone might come give me the chance to explain.

I must be the least of his worries.

Yet I’m still caught up in the middle of this conflict, cast aside and locked away to be dealt with later. The thought makes me angry, furious even. Don’t I deserve for Alessandro to face me?

At least to shout at me and take his rage out on me.

“He really did corrupt you if that’s the kind of attention you crave…” I mutter, sitting down to eat. Speaking to myself feels better than the deafening quiet that I’ve grown accustomed to.

I have thought over and over what I would say if given the chance. How I might sway him. If I should send him a message that I have urgent news.

But then I would have to do it, tell him that I'm carrying his child.

A fact that I can barely face myself.

Worse, one of the other brothers might come, men who don’t really know me and certainly couldn’t care less about me. One of them could harm me, harm the baby.

So every time I hear footsteps in the hall my back straightens, I rush to the door, quietly listening for hints, conversations. Or any sign of who is approaching so that I can be ready.

Honestly, I think I’m going insane.

So much so that I find myself daydreaming of our time together in the lodge. In Aless's chamber.

It inevitably brings me back around to my pregnancy and what I’m supposed to do about it. The smartest thing to do would be to escape.

Disappear.

Not that an organization like the Diamantes couldn’t find me.

But maybe they’d be too busy to care.

Unless I’m here long enough to start showing. Once the morning sickness starts it will be next to impossible to hide for long. My maid has cleaned the bathroom twice already.

My only other option would be to use my baby as a bargaining chip. She’s the child of one of the world's most powerful mafia leaders. Nothing could be more valuable, even just the information. I could use it against him, threaten to go public.

Take him for enough money to vanish, set up a life for us, the baby, my mamma.

I hate myself for thinking of the baby that way, but as it stands that may be the only thing important enough to keep alive. I won’t hesitate to use it if one of the brothers comes to eliminate me.

That’s fine, best-laid plans and all.

It also relies on anyone coming for me at all.

It's mid-morning on the third day when a soft knock announces a visitor. They don’t automatically come in, unlike the maids.

Sitting up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I swallow, debating what to do.

Another knock.

“C-come in.”

I’m still groggy from my nap as I slip out of the covers, keeping the bed between myself and the door.

“Good morning. Hope we didn’t wake you,” a sonorous voice precedes the door opening all the way, revealing two extremely tall, very handsome men. They have to be the twins. “May we come in?”

He’s so polite.

The other doesn’t say a word, and as I get a good look at them, I see how much alike they are.

They're identical in almost every way. The way they stand, their frames. It’s the hair and eyes that set them apart.

“Um…yes.” Like I can tell them no.

“I’m Ciro Diamante. So nice to meet you.” He’s got Alessandro’s hair, Adriano’s skin tone, his lighter eyes. But his features are more feminine, prettier. Women probably go insane at the sight of him.

“Isabella Rossi.”

“Sorry, my brother is a barbarian. This is Fiero. Or Ero if you have a reason to speak to him. I don’t suggest looking for one.”

“God, you're an asshole.” The words are silky smooth, deep, barely audible. Yet they pack a punch, making me strain to hear more from him.

Until I catch him staring at me, no expression on his pristine features.

Jet black eyes bore into me like a shark watching its prey. Jet black hair sweeps back, long and luxurious. But the effect is chilling. He looks like he was bred to be a killer.

Still, he’s stunningly handsome.

In a deadly way.

Ero tilts his head to the side, analyzing me, before looking back at his brother expectantly.

“Well, Isabella Rossi, be welcome in our home.”

I almost laugh in his face.

“Ero”—he waves, making a face—“like we practiced…”

“Welcome,” Ero says in a deadpan voice.

“Sorry, again. He likes to think he was the first one out and that means something, like he’s older than me. Anyways, how’s your stay been so far?”

They saunter in, and the family resemblance is startling. Each carries himself so much like their eldest brother, their boss. The swagger, the way they play off one another.

Ciro tucks his hands in his pockets, slouching his shoulders forward, waiting for me to say something. Ero just stares at the wall.

“Oh, I, uh…it’s been fine. For what it is.” I try not to let my voice quiver with fear or anger. “Was there something you needed?”

Get on with it, is what I really mean.

“Yeah. We wanted to see if you would like to go for a walk.”

“A walk,” I repeat, a chill shivering down my spine. This is it. They've come for me.

I stop my hand from instinctively drifting to my belly.

“You know, with your legs. And feet. Outside. We figured you've been cooped up in here for almost three days. You could use a little exercise. Adriano said you worked out a lot in Italy.” Ciro catches himself, his eyes darting away as they begin to scan down my body, still dressed in a simple, somewhat revealing nightgown. There hasn’t been a reason to really get dressed.

“And he said we had to, so.” Ero shrugs.

“Besides, it’s really sunny outside. Maybe it’ll make you feel better; you don’t look so good.”

“ Thanks ,” I snap, the snarky way Ciro insults me riles something up in me. “My own fault really. I’ve kept myself locked up in here for three days, you know.”

If they’re going to take me away and kill me, the least I can do is fight back a little. Show them that I’ve got spine.

A ghost of a smile flickers across Ciro’s face. He’s fucking with me.

I’m his brother's prisoner and he’s teasing me like I’m a visiting cousin.

“Well?” Ciro asks, pointing his thumb towards the door.

I look down at what I’m wearing and open my palms at him. Ero palms his face.

“Oh! Yeah. Get dressed, of course.” Ciro nods like he came up with the idea.

“In private…?” I point to the door, not just suggesting that he step out. Ero is already in the hall. “I'll be out in just a moment.”

“Take your time!”

“Ciro.” Ero smacks his brother’s arm.

“I mean, not too long, we do have stuff we need to do, so…” The door closes, muffling Ciro’s tirade. “You’re such a nag! What do you have going on that’s better than escorting a pretty lady around? It’s the most action you’ve seen in weeks!”

I explode into motion as soon as the door shuts, pulling out a pair of pants and a blouse, finding some flats. All to buy me some time to find something, anything to use as a weapon. Anything to use to defend myself.

If they think I’m going down without a fight, they’ve got another thing coming.

Polite or not, I won’t let my guard down. Not that I think I stand a chance against either of them.

A sharp nail file is the only thing I manage to find in the back of an old drawer. Someone must have overlooked it when searching the room and preparing it for my stay.

That, or they're not used to keeping prisoners at their compound.

“I open the door, trying to look composed. Pleasant. “Okay, I'm ready to go.”

“Don't you look just lovely?” He means it, too.

His smile is so similar to Alessandro’s that I could weep. Hiding the pang of heartache, I stride into the hall, heading back toward the stairs as Ciro leads the way, Fiero noticeably falling behind to bring up the rear.

Despite their casual natures, their training comes through—years of practiced soldiering, security detail. It reminds me of my dad, his fellow cops.

The walk through the house is eerily quiet. There doesn't seem to be anyone here at this time of day. But more than that, there's a stillness to the place, like everyone is waiting for something.

I can relate to that anxiety, the anticipation of worry to come. Until recently, I never truly understood what real fear was.

Not like I do now, for the life growing inside me.

Unfortunately for me, it’s integrally tied to the love in my heart for the father of the child. A longing that’s hard to differentiate between, torn between the two of them, yet one and the same.

Unless I am forced to choose.

If so, I’m confident Alessandro would support my decision…if he knew.

“This way, out through the sunroom.” Ciro’s been gabbing all the while, commenting on the decor, the weather. “We used to play out here all the time as kids. Games, toys. All waiting for Alessandro to come home from some wild adventure.”

“It’s beautiful,” I offer. Focusing on anything but the end of this little walkabout or an opportunity to make a break for it has me on pins and needles.

“Yeah, Aless had it redone a few years back. He can be such a priss sometimes, believe it or not. Loves his colors, his textures. Moody bitch.”

I almost crack a smile at the jab. My mind jumps back to Aless’s secret chamber, the carefully curated ambiance.

“This coming from the peacock who likes dressing in the most gaudy colors imaginable,” Ero grumbles.

“Hey! Just because a guy likes to dress to kill and likes a little color…haters gonna hate. And I dress this way to woo the ladies.”

“Nobody says that. Ever. Especially if they want to woo anyone.”

“Jealousy is the only color you ever wear, Fiero! You could take a lesson, a page out of my book. When was the last time you got laid?”

“When was the last time you stopped talking?”

A snort lodges itself in the back of my throat. They’re completely childish and absurd. Like average, normal siblings. I find myself relaxing, just a little, to their playful demeanors.

These two don’t seem to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

A gift that I can only assume was provided by a strong parent.

The man I love.

I blink rapidly to force back tears as we step out into a vibrant, lush garden. Green, purple, bright red, and marigold assault my senses, along with sweet scents and the glare of magnificent sunlight bathing the scene. It’s enough to distract me for a moment, a brief respite from my circumstances.

“Wow…” I gasp, savoring the warmth, the chilly and refreshing breeze. Every shrub and bush is manicured, carefully maintained. “This is incredible. Does Alessandro garden too?”

“Ha! That I’d like to see. Preferably in a flowery apron and a straw hat, right bro?” Ciro guides us along a stone path, basking in the fresh morning.

“Don’t call me bro. Ever.”

“Sourpuss.”

“Dickweed.”

“Anyway, our great-uncle Giancarlo had this designed for his wife. Aunt Eva spent hours out here, trimming, singing. One of my favorite memories as a little kid.”

Ero is conspicuously silent, not offering any jabs.

I feel his eyes on me, though.

“Not that you need to know any of that…” Ciro catches the look, clearing his throat.

“I’m your prisoner,” I state, feeling bolder in the sunlight. “What does it matter what you say in front of me? What’s the difference?”

If there’s a chance they’re going to kill me anyway, I may as well show them who I really am. And find out anything that could buy me a few more minutes of life.

“Hmm. Ballsy. I like it. This way.” Ciro leads on, growing quiet the farther we get into the maze of trees and flowers.

As we round a bend in the walkway, I see a picturesque gazebo out in the center of the garden. Pausing to lock the memory in my mind, I have a second of heartache, a flash of a life that could be.

A wedding, on this lawn. Kissing the man I love, taking his ring.

Children running, playing together in the grass.

Alessandro chasing them.

“You alright?” Ciro asks softly.

“Yeah. Just overwhelmed.”

“He thought you’d like it out here,” Ero mumbles behind me.

I turn, my brow furrowing. “He knows I’m out here?”

“He’s the one who told Adriano to make this happen, so yeah.

“Make what happen?” There’s more to this than I thought.

“It's easier if we just show you.”

“Always so dramatic…” Ero huffs, shaking his head.

I notice someone sitting inside the gazebo as we approach, a woman with golden blonde hair. A puzzled look sweeps across my face and I look to either of the brothers for a clue.

Both of them are smirking. Well, Ciro is. Ero is…

Making a face that could give children nightmares.

Their mischievous behavior conflicts with the menacing reputation I know they’ve earned. “You two must have driven Alessandro nuts,” I can’t help commenting.

“Only what he deserved.” Ciro gestures for me to go on alone.

Stepping into the cool confines of the white wood pillars, I startle as I hear a tiny, cute voice exclaim, “Mama! Mama! Look. I draw a pity flower!”

“Pretty flower, Gigi. And it’s beautiful.”

“Tha’s what I said,” the little girl pouts.

My eyes lock onto her, her dark curls, her blue eyes. Something about her captivates me, catches my attention. Something hauntingly familiar.

Ciro taps the pillar behind me, announcing my presence before he steps back, wandering off a short distance.

The woman glances up, her tan skin and golden hair accenting a round, pretty face. Her eyes lock on mine, a sort of surprise and sadness shadowing the deep green. Her smile, though…

It lights up the shady confines of the gazebo.

“Oh, my…” She swallows, tears filling her eyes as her hand shoots to her mouth.

“It’s you,” I gasp, an image flashing through my head of a photo my brother sent of his wedding. They eloped in the States. My mother never let him hear the end of it.

“You're her, you're really her.” She sobs through her hand.

I can’t make my brain work right. The shock. The impossibility of this encounter.

“I-Isabella Rossi,” I hear myself say.

“Angelica Rossi.” She thrusts out her hand and I take it.

There's a moment frozen in time, where we just stare at each other, our hands intertwined. Then she looks down, beaming. “And this, is Gigi, Giorgina.”

“Your hair is pretty, lady,” Gigi grins.

“Th-thank you,” I stifle a sob. “I’m…”

“Your Aunt Isabella,” Angelica finishes for me. Gigi bounces over to wrap her arms around my legs. I can barely move. Gigi loses interest in hugging me in a second, bounding back to her crayons.

“How?” I manage to choke out.

Angelica looks back at me, gazing into my eyes for a few seconds before we embrace, throwing our arms around one another. It’s the instant closeness of family, of shared loss.

“He really is gone?” I ask, still clinging to her. It dawns on me that I have secretly held out hope, some abstract idea that he might be alive.

“Yes, he is.”

“I need to know how.”

“Sit, sit. I'll explain that soon, I promise. It's just so wonderful to finally meet you. He told me so much about you.”

“I was supposed to come visit you, meet you.”

“I know. Things have been complicated since then. Otherwise, I would have reached out.”

“And your daughter, I mean…”

“Giorgio wanted to surprise you with the news I was pregnant. I named her after him.”

“I'm so sorry.” I stare at the miracle sitting next to me, absorbed in her coloring. “She's beautiful. She must be?—”

“She'll turn three next month.”

I spin back to Angelica. “His birth month, too?”

“I know. It was hard and special.”

Pieces fall into place, my situation and hers. It suddenly occurs to me what she's doing here, the meaning behind this. I still have to ask.

“What are you doing here?”

“That is a bit more complicated.”

“They're not holding you prisoner. Are they?” Panic claws through me.

“No, no!” Angelica pats my hand. She searches my eyes for a second, seeing a shift there. “But they are holding you prisoner, aren’t they?”

“Yes. It's also complicated.”

“Oh, what a mess!” She half laughs, turning to the table. “I brought us some tea; Ciro told me I had a guest, so I thought I was just entertaining one of their family members.”

“I’d love some.” This feels right, like we’ve known each other for years.

We sip the hot, herbal brew for a few moments, gazing out over the garden.

“Why would you be entertaining one of their family members?” The question slips out before I can think it through.

Angelica sits her cup down, meeting my gaze again. “Because this is our home.”

My teacup clatters a bit as I place it on the table. “Oh.”

“Gio was working for Alessandro when he died.”

“No. But my brother was a police officer. My brother was a cop.”

“He was. And he was undercover. He was sent to infiltrate a rival of the Diamantes. That’s how he wound up in the States.

“Problem was, the department was corrupt. His liaison was on the take, his captain, too. When he asked to be brought out, brought home, they told him to keep his head down so they could keep collecting. Gio threatened to out them, but the commander was in on it. They sent someone to kill him.”

“Gio always knew how to piss off people in charge, huh?”

“This was on another level. And it gets so much more crazy. The night the cop’s hit man tried to kill him, the Diamantes attacked to wipe out the gang, get them off their turf. Alessandro saw it happening, saw the guy aiming for Gio and took him out.”

“Why would he do that if Gio was with their enemy?”

“I’ve asked him many times. He said, ‘Just did what I felt was right in the moment.’”

“So he saved Giorgio. He was still an undercover cop.”

“Which he confessed to Alessandro. He confessed everything, not knowing what else to do. Alessandro offered him a job and he took it.”

“How could he turn like that?” I see the problem with the question as soon as I ask it. How could he?

How could I?

“You have to understand. Gio lost everything. He was being hunted by the leftovers from the gang, his own department. They declared him a criminal in Italy. And Alessandro offered us a place in his family, made us feel like family. They kept us safe.”

Too many puzzle pieces fall into place at once. Added to my own peril, it’s mind-numbing, impossible to wrap my head around it all. “How did you and Gigi come to live here?”

Angelica waits for me to blink, watching me process before she answers. “Gio swore his life to Alessandro after they took down the corrupt officers in Giorgio’s squad. In return, the Diamantes swore to watch over his family if anything ever happened to him.”

Her eyes drift, fading into a painful memory.

“He took a bullet for Alessandro. An assassination attempt a few years ago. There was nothing they could do. Gio wasn’t wearing his vest that day because we were at a family gathering.”

Tears stream down both of our faces, hers for grief, mine for anger, grief, blame.

It's not the news I was expecting. It feels like a betrayal, all the same.

Like Alessandro might have pulled the trigger himself.

“You know him well, don’t you?”

I nod.

“And you love him.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I know it must be hard to hear all of this. And I don’t know what you thought before, or what happened to you. But Alessandro saved your brother, the love of my life, and Giorgio died defending someone he truly believed in. He'd lost everything, Isabella, everything he believed in had been taken away. He couldn't return to his job, to his country. He couldn't do anything. This gave him a second opportunity, a purpose. Even if it was part of a life that we never believed we would lead.”

“But …”

“The Diamantes aren’t who you think.”

I can’t help raising an eyebrow.

“Well…” She smiles sadly. “Okay, maybe they are who you think in some ways, but they're good people. They're a good family. Alessandro leads with a fair hand. Maybe if you explain to him?—”

“No. There’s no way. I betrayed him. And you know what that means to him,” I fumble out.

“I know. Loyalty is everything. But so are love and family.”

We chat through the afternoon, playing ball with Gigi, sharing a light lunch. Ciro and Ero are circling in as the clouds start to gather in the early afternoon.

Our time is up.

“Would you stay? If you could?” Angelica reaches for my hand.

“I don't know. I need time to think…”

But there is no time. They're about to go to war.

Angelica checks over her shoulder to make sure that Ero and Ciro are still out of earshot. She leans in. “There's something else, isn’t there?”

It's a risk.

A huge risk, gambling on her loyalties to me as her dead husband's sister or her loyalty to the family that rescued her and has preserved her and her daughter's lives.

But she’s family.

“I-I’m pregnant,” I whisper. “With his child.”

Her eyes widen, but her hand stays firm, gripping mine, anchoring me.

“You’re sure?” she asks calmly.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Our eyes meet for a second. Without a second thought, she pulls me in for a hug.

And before I even have a chance to ask, she whispers, “Your secret's safe with me.”