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7

ISABELLA

F or a while, I just sit there on the edge of the bed, wired and more than a little irritated.

He locked me in here.

Like I’m a freaking prisoner.

The sensation that I’m trapped, caged, in the house of a madman, immediately rises in my chest like a tide of panic.

Despite our conversation and his relaxed demeanor the past few hours, it confirms everything I knew Alessandro Diamante would be. At least to my sense of fight or flight.

What I never expected is how my body would react to him, a complete betrayal of what I know and what I am here for. He’s magnetic. Domineering, but in a way that draws me in, wants to test the limits of his patience, taunt him into showing me who he really is.

It’s absolutely foolish.

Like dangling myself as a hunk of meat over a lion’s den.

I think back through the conversation; the questions I asked, the way I kept prodding him. “Way to throw caution to the wind…” I mutter, standing to walk off some of my nerves.

And what did it earn me?

A night locked in my room.

But I am here. I made it this far, and he didn’t throw me out or murder me. So I pace my room for a bit, drying my hair and trying to settle down enough to sleep. I’m still wired so I try the door, consider picking the lock. Another door appears to lead to the other guest room, but it too is locked.

The only way out of the bathroom is through the high, small window—my last resort if he decides to keep me a prisoner here for days.

The idea of getting caught sneaking around the house in the middle of the night makes me even more nervous, so I eventually make myself lay down, try to organize my thoughts and plan for tomorrow, reviewing my conversation with Alessandro.

“I’m not married.”

He said it too fast. A flash of something behind his eyes.

Pain, deep sadness. I know that look when someone is hiding it. My mother’s had it for years, living alone without my father, without my brother. The thought makes me miss her, wondering how she’s doing at the apartment I help her pay for in our small hometown.

I miss her dearly.

Except with Alessandro, I know that whatever pain he feels must be of his own making. He hurts people.

And yet I still fell for it, ached for him. The monster that I am certain killed my brother.

Any pain that man feels he has coming to him.

That anger riles me up nearly as much as taunting him did, matching his own powerful wrath which I only got a hint of when I pushed too hard.

Well, fuck him.

I’m going to keep pushing.

I just have to ride the line, walk a tightrope for the next few days to keep him from doing away with me, find an excuse to stay and dig deeper. Even if this is a trap that I walked straight into. The thought offers me a tiny bit of comfort as I ease down into the bed, letting the feeling of the fresh sheets and warm blankets distract me.

If this place belonged to anyone else, I would be ecstatic to be here. It’s so cozy, picturesque. A classic wood lodge with all of the appeal and trimmings of a vacation heaven.

Exhaustion eventually wins out, dropping me into a restless sleep, filled with uneasy dreams and disturbing images and feelings.

In the dark a creature prowls, watching me, waiting for me to stumble. It’s harrowing, indistinct, irrational, and fully stressful.

Several times I wake from it, briefly, only to fall back into another variation of fear and anxiety.

It feels like only minutes pass and a knock sounds at the door, startling me awake.

It’s light out, although dim and gray through the storm.

“Miss? I’ve brought your breakfast, if you please?” a warm, matronly voice croons from the other side of the door, the Italian accent rural and thick.

“Uh…I can’t open the door,” I answer, not bothering to get out of bed. “I’m locked in.”

I don’t bother hiding the scorn in my tone. My anger from the night before rekindles, the fact that I’m shamefully locked away.

I’m going to give him a piece of my mind about ground rules and my freedoms if I’m going to stay here any longer. If nothing else, logic says this is no way to treat a guest.

“Oh dear. I'm so sorry!” I hear her mutter as she fumbles with jingling keys. An audible click precedes her entry. “However did that happen! You poor thing. I’ll make sure you have the key so this can’t happen again. ”

“Thank you…”

“Carla, dear. I am the head maid in charge of the lodge.” Her gray hair is smartly styled, framing a round, dark-skinned face. Smile lines crinkle the corners of her mouth and eyes as she sets the tray of steaming food down on the edge of my bed.

“I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so you let me know if you have a favorite beverage to drink with your meals. I brought espresso, if that’s alright?”

The scent of the rich, concentrated coffee rejuvenates me, filling my nostrils and making my stomach growl. “I love espresso, thank you Carla. You don’t need to bring me breakfast in bed, though. I can come down to the kitchen and prepare my own meals…”

“Nonsense. You are our guest! It’s my job to make sure all of your needs and desires are met. The master of the house wouldn’t have it any other way. And as far as breakfast in bed, you are welcome to come to the dining room, but Alessandro told me you came in late last night, frozen to the bone. So forgive me if I wanted to provide a bit of extra care.” She winks, uncovering the plate of fresh bread, butter, and homemade jam. Yogurt and fruit complement the plate. It’s almost exactly what my mother would make us growing up, albeit with a gourmet touch.

“This looks wonderful.”

“I’m relieved. If you have any other favorites, do let me know. I’ll go get your bath ready while you eat.”

“I can?—”

“Shush! What else am I to do? We haven’t had guests in far too long, let alone a lady in this house. Frankly, we’ve been bored to tears for ages.”

The spread before me overwhelms any misgivings I have and I dig in wholeheartedly. Before long I catch myself humming along with Carla as she sings an old folk tune over the splash of the bathtub filling.

Again, I’m drawn back to thoughts of my mother, living alone, and thoughts of my brother and his widow. I never got the chance to meet Angelica. She moved back to the United States after he was killed. I was supposed to visit, but never managed to get it together.

My appetite fades away as I think about it, forcing my mind back to my mission.

“Come now, my dear, the bath is ready for you!” Carla sings, stepping into the doorway. “I’ll have your things brought in while you bathe. Vincenzo retrieved your luggage from your car this morning.”

“You’re too kind, Signora Carla, you’ve gone to such trouble for me.”

“No trouble at all. We will all see to it that you have a wonderful stay with us. No blizzard will ruin a relaxing stay at our lodge, no ma’am.”

Her attitude and demeanor warm my heart, allowing me to relax a bit. At least Alessandro’s staff seem to be kind, working folk.

I wonder what they do when no one is visiting the lodge as I ease out of my slip and test the piping hot water.

“Oh…perfect,” I practically purr as I slide into the tub. Prickles tingle all over me, loosening my muscles.

After a moment, I open my eyes, running my hands through the water. Along one side of the tub, I’m delighted to find soaps, bubble bath, a fresh pumice stone, and several options for body wash and shampoo. All of them are brand new, as if they knew I was coming.

The thought of my stay being anticipated sends a shiver through me.

“Silly. They’re probably just very demanding of their staff.”

I let all of my worries fade away for a time, soaking in the bubbles and sharp herbal scents of the bath bomb. If I am to stay for the duration of the blizzard, I may as well enjoy some of it.

And I need time to gather my courage. Steel my resolve.

I need to spend as much time with Alessandro as possible, to find out anything I can. Likely, I’ll encounter his brother as well.

But which brother did he bring?

Rumors and gossip all agree that there are four Diamante brothers. Not much is known about any of them.

Aside from the fact that they are dangerous, and notoriously secretive.

The few articles and stories I was able to dig up suggest that two of them are twins, both of whom have gotten into loads of trouble with the law. Each offense conveniently swept under the rug, every charge dropped.

Even the alleged burning down of a nightclub in Turin.

Outside of that, fleeting gossip says one is completely insane, a globe-trotting fighter. The other is a daredevil. Fast cars, women, a nonstop party animal.

Leaving the other brother, who no one seems to know anything about. I’ve speculated that he might be Alessandro’s right-hand man, in charge of assets, numbers. Behind the scenes.

If he’s here …

I might actually find some evidence, documented accounting, names.

After drying off and draining the tub, I step into my room to find all of my things set out on the bed. My heart stutters at the idea of Carla, or worse, one of the Diamantes going through my bags.

“Please, don’t let them have found…” I unclip the secret compartment at the base of the suitcase. A sigh of relief slips out; it appears undisturbed.

Micro cameras, voice recording devices, and a backup laptop and hard drive.

My very own spy and surveillance kit.

I almost laugh at the spread of gear as I pack it carefully back into the case. Isabella Rossi—I mean Bianchi—international woman of mystery. Not so foolish now that I'm neck-deep in a dangerous situation.

If nothing else, maybe gathering intel will buy my way through this, or at least someone will figure out what happened to me if they decide to do away with me.

I'm dressed, patting down the front of my outfit when I hear Alessandro in the hall, slamming his door and walking out into the main room. I crack the door to voices.

“Any washing, Signore Alessandro?”

“Please. I left the basket by my door. Grazie , Ava.”

Another one of the maids shuffles toward me, nodding as I ease the door open to avoid looking like I’m snooping.

“ Buongiorno ,” I say softly, heading out to see what the day holds for me.

Immediately, a deep-voiced, hushed conversation perks my ears up. Slowing down, I try to catch what they’re saying from just outside the den we sat in last night.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn't thinking. It was late and I was drunk as fuck.”

“Great excuse. I told you not to drink that last shot.”

“Probably shouldn’t have had more wine after we got home.”

“Fucking idi—” He stops short, to a growl from Alessandro. “You let a stranger into our safe house.”

“Not like we could’ve known she was following us. Couldn’t see shit in that blizzard.”

“ Merda! ” the brother hisses.

“What would you have done, Adriano? Let her freeze to death?”

Adriano, huh? Good to know.

“Yes! I would have said tough shit. She had no business coming here.”

My excitement at finding out which sibling is in the other room is cut short by the statement. I swallow hard.

“She got lost. It was an accident.”

“Ha! You sound as gullible as Ciro. You believe her?”

“I do. At least about that.”

“You should have consulted me, should have woken me up.”

“I locked her in the guest room. And I’m consulting you now,” Alessandro huffs and I hear him slump into a chair. “Take her back to town.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just go hop in the truck and drop her off. Never mind the piles of snow.”

“You’re being a fucking drama queen.”

“You’re being a scemo , fool,” Adriano snaps.

“Gah, you’re an old grandmother trapped in a grown man’s body.”

“Fine. You want me to be Nonna? She doesn’t wander around. Give her the rules. Make sure she follows them.”

“I already did.”

“Do it again!” Adriano intones, sounding put upon, more annoyed than mad. “I hate this.”

“You hate everything.”

“No, just you destroying my peace! You’re worse than?—”

“The twins?” Alessandro mocks.

“A thousand times, yes.”

I hear a deep, rumbling chuckle from Alessandro, a shocking sound that curls my toes. Their brotherly banter humanizes them, as if they were any other siblings. It’s an odd contrast to my imagination, the idea that they should only be scheming criminals.

It makes me blush, realizing that I’m openly eavesdropping.

My logic brain argues that I have to do whatever I can to listen in.

Still.

I let my footsteps announce my presence in the foyer, drawing them up short.

Adriano whispers a final warning, “You take too many chances, Aless. No talking in front of her. Deal with this.”

He storms out of the den, barely giving me a second glance as he barrels through the east wing door and slams it behind him.

“Sorry about that.”

I look back to find Alessandro leaning in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He looks like a cologne ad. Button-up left open haphazardly, linen pants, his hair styled but casual.

He shaved, and the result is breathtaking.

“Sorry for what?”

“My brother is a worrywart.” He smiles charmingly, disarming.

“Is he your only family?” I skirt the issue.

“The only family with me. My other brothers are back home.” He waves dismissively. “You'll meet him eventually, if he cools down and stops being a nag.”

So far, it seems that Alessandro has accepted that I’m staying. Or decided that I am.

“Only if he wants to. I feel bad, intruding.”

“Don’t. As of now, you’re our guest.” I notice he doesn’t apologize for locking me up last night. “Come to the kitchen. I'll introduce you to the staff, give you a tour of the house.”

I follow along in his wake, eyeing the wall hangings as we head down the stairs to the landing. “Library is upstairs, and the theater room is down there. Other door is the gym and sauna.” He gestures vaguely.

“And that one?” I point to the only other door off the lower landing.

“My office.” The way he says the words is clipped. Unwavering.

“Ah. Off-limits. Right.”

He lets out a soft sound that might be a laugh. “I’m not used to entertaining guests.”

It’s as close to an admission of anything as he’ll likely give. The man comes across like a stoic, marble statue.

“I understand. And you don’t need to entertain me. I can look after myself.” The last thing I want to do is invite scrutiny. I need them to let me wander freely, let their guards down.

“Noted.” He looks back, those deep, hazel eyes seeing through me. I hate how much I like how it makes me feel. I hate how much I like looking at his face.

The staff is lined up in the kitchen when we enter, like we’re royalty. I feel my face flush with embarrassment at the presentation.

“Too formal?” Alessandro smirks at my expression. “You’ve met Carla. Ava is her niece. Vincenzo is Carla’s husband and our groundskeeper.”

The older man chuckles at the announcement. “When there are grounds to keep! I guess I’ll be a glorified snow shoveler for now.”

The mood is calm, familiar. “They’ve taken care of this place for my family for years.”

“Do you all live here year round?” I find my curiosity getting the better of me.

“No, no, signorina . We live in the village.”

“Oh.” I try desperately not to continue the line of questioning.

Alessandro picks up on my direction, however. “They are on retainer for when we need them.”

Carla winks at me as they go about their business, an unspoken dismissal happening somewhere in the interchange.

“Now that is …”

“A bit ridiculous?” Aless mutters softly.

“I mean, most people don’t have servants waiting for them at their mountain getaway homes.”

“You’re right. I am not most people.”

Something about the way he says it makes my hackles go up. The audacity of this man. Not to mention the arrogance and the smile that make my blood boil in all the right ways.

“Think of it this way,” he offers over his shoulder, heading back upstairs, “You’re on vacation, and for as long as you are here, this is your home. Treat it as such. When in Rome, as they say, right?”

“Minus the strict rules and off-limits areas,” I mutter under my breath.

If he hears me, he lets it slide. “I have some things to take care of. Do you think you can occupy yourself for the rest of the day?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“Good.” He turns back to me at his office door, standing far too close for comfort. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

It’s a statement, but something in the way he says it makes my stomach flip, like he’s asking me out on a date.

“I-I’d like that. I mean, I would love to have dinner with you.”

And I'm kicking myself. Idiot!

Flirting with the enemy.

And just like that, he's gone into his office, shutting the door and I'm left on the landing feeling out of place.

The dining hall extends off the main entryway of the lodge near the stairs leading down to the landing and the kitchen. It’s clearly meant for large gatherings.

“Will the staff or your brother be joining us?” I ask, raising my voice just a bit to make sure Alessandro can hear me from the other end of the table.

“No. It’s just us tonight. Adriano is…private. And rather sour at the moment.”

“He’s still mad that I’m here?”

Alessandro gives me a look, trying to decide how I figured that out. “He always takes a while to accept things he can’t do anything about, or things I insist on that he doesn’t agree with.”

“So…he stays mad all the time?”

The loud scoff of laughter that pops out of him is surprising and endearing. “You have no idea.”

“I’m sure he’s just protective of you. I assume his primary duty is doing that, keeping you safe, right?”

“And offering me sage advice. Or at least questioning my decisions, tempering my choices.”

“I’ll try to impress on him that I mean you no harm.”

“He's right about one thing: you certainly present a certain amount of danger.” He eyes me, tilting his head in a way that’s both flirtatious and cunning.

“In what way?”

“You’ve already gotten me to let my guard down better than anyone has in a long while.”

“‘Better than’ makes it sound like a good thing.”

“That has yet to be seen.” His eyes smolder.

“Well, I hope you like what you see. And Adriano can keep his eyes to himself.” I smirk, taking a bite of the appetizer, a rich balsamic bruschetta on crisp toast.

“Don’t worry too much about him. He’s just protective. Sometimes, I think he believes he’s the elder brother.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You have a brother, too?”

“I did.” It slips out, softly, but loud enough to carry.

“I'm sorry, Isabella. I didn't mean to?—”

“No, it's okay.” I shove down the rage and anguish that bubbles up thinking of Giorgio. It’s a force of will to make myself remember that Alessandro has no idea, and that I can’t let him know.

It’s getting easier to be around him. To forget in the moment.

And yet, if I asked him, point-blank, would he even remember killing my brother? Or would it just be another faceless law enforcement officer who got in his way? Would it even matter to someone like him?

I paste on a smile. Press the emotions down.

I can’t let anything ruin our dinner together. Compartmentalize.

Gazing across the table, I let my own guard down, allowing myself to enjoy the company of a beautiful man, candlelight, and an amazing meal.

It's truly amazing what the mind can do when forced into a corner.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

“I’d love one. Red, preferably.”

“I thought we might try this vintage port I’ve been saving, but now I'm thinking I’m in the mood for a cabernet. Something a little drier, a little sharper .” His eyes flare when he says it, approaching my side of the table with a bottle in hand. His swagger is bold, seductive.

Any woman would melt at the sight of him in his dark, navy slacks and white button down. The way his sleeves stretch over his biceps, the pull of the fabric across his broad, sculpted chest.

The tight fit of his pants over muscular legs and a taut, perky ass.

Dammit, Isabella. I haven’t even had anything to drink yet and I’m feeling hot and bothered.

The splash of wine he pours fills my nostrils with a rich, smoky aroma—tobacco, and a hint of chocolate.

“Mmm…” I hum as I swirl it, sip it, letting it linger on my tongue. The taste is remarkable.

Alessandro watches me lick my lips, leaning on the edge of the table, his posture relaxed. He’s truly a king in his domain.

“Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s bold .” I pin him with a stare as I say it.

“An unforgettable body , to be sure.”

“It almost bites , but the finish is smooth.”

The little game we’re playing makes my legs tighten, my core heating.

He sips his own glass, easing off the table and sauntering back to his side. “So. What will you do to pass the time, Isabella?”

“I’m not sure. It’s only the first day. Maybe the storm will clear.” I try to sound nonchalant.

“Unlikely, from all reports. What would you normally do, if you were on your own. At home, or on vacation?” It’s hard to decide if he’s actually interested or indulging me. He’s impossible to read.

“I love to read. Sightsee. Learn about historic locales,” I admit, finding the truth easier to divulge than making up a lie. “And you? If I hadn’t invaded your respite, what would you do to pass the hours?”

“Hmm. I love to read, too. A bit of Sartre. Something dark, stimulating. Anything that makes me question my way of life, way of thinking.” It’s a provocation as much as a confession. Like he wants me to challenge him.

“Since I am here, what do you have planned?”

His eyes flare like they have before, but the intense heat in his gaze has me nearly sweating. Foolish girl.

“Well, I suppose I have to think of things for us to do. There’s bound to be plenty to keep us busy.” The implication hangs in the air for a split second before he snatches it back, shifting gears and grinning at the flush in my cheeks.

“We have a theater room, just about any movie you can think of. Maybe you’d care to watch a double feature with me?” His smile is disarming; straight, white teeth and pure arrogance. Worst of all, his lips are way too kissable.

“As long as you have a popcorn maker to go along with it. I’d love to catch a show with you sometime.” I laugh softly into my glass, playing along with his diversion.

“Otherwise, we have a game room. Pool. Darts. The gym. And of course, there’s the library. One of my favorite places in the house. I’ll show you after dinner.”

“Please…I’m very curious what sorts of books you have.”

“Oh, it’s extensive. Decades of titles gifted by generations of my family. What do you like to read?”

“Romance, mostly. Classics, too.”

“I haven’t had much use for romance in a long time.” It almost sounds like a mistake, like he didn’t mean to say it.

“Well, perhaps you can indulge in a bit of romance while I’m here,” I say before I can stop myself, rising to cross the room, mimicking his stance from a moment before. A little grin and a raised eyebrow grace Alessandro’s face at the comment as he looks up at me. “Books, I mean.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t even know where to start romancing a woman like you.” He winks.

“Somehow, I find that completely impossible to believe.”

“I haven’t had that sort of relationship since…” He slips up, the sentence soft and distant.

I see his gaze falter, drifting through memories. “What was her name?

Alessandro freezes.

“I shouldn't have asked that. I'm sorry.”

“No. That's fine, I shouldn’t have said that. Her name was Catalina. We were young. She was lost at sea with both of my parents.”

“Oh …”

My hand is at his cheek before I realize what I’ve done, the ache on his face is more than I can bear to see. Maybe it’s the wine, the candlelight. Or maybe I’ve lost my damn mind. But I feel the pain written all over his face, practically radiating off of him.

He looks up at me from under those dark, bold eyebrows.

Not quite a glare. Not quite a scowl.

It’s … longing.

A sigh escapes my lips as my hand grazes down along his jaw, my thumb caressing the corner of his mouth. His eyes slide closed, his jaw clenching softly beneath my touch.

My fingertips pull just under his chin, raising his face to look at me.

The moment slows to a halt.

Quiet. Tense, but in a way that makes my blood heat.

It shatters in an instant as his face contorts, his mood shifting. He snatches my hand with his, rising faster than I can blink, shoving me across the space to the wall. His entire body shakes, his palm gripped at my throat, pinning me with unbelievable force.

I barely manage a gasp of protest, my eyes bulging in terror.

Alessandro stops dead, dread clouding his expression, like he just processed what happened, the way he snapped. Those raging eyes soften, dropping from my eyes to my lips. His hand loosens, letting me slip back down the wall from my tiptoes.

My breath is short, fast.

My heart is pounding.

He’s horrifyingly, exquisitely close, our bodies inches apart.

I’m terrified, yet my entire body is on fire. Torn between fear and longing, the need to flee, and the need for comfort.

I can barely breathe as he dips his head, catching his breath. His lips are right there, so close that our breath mingles. With a subtle shift he drags his bottom lip along mine, not quite a kiss. I almost lose myself, give in to the moment and kiss him.

But he stops short as he feels the prick below his chin, the knife I instinctively grabbed, pressed right into his throat.

And then he has the audacity to smile, just slightly, before stepping back.

The opening has me staggering, glancing one last time at his smoldering eyes before taking my chance and dashing from the room. I don’t stop until I’m across the foyer, down the hall and into my room, slamming the door and locking it.