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CHAPTER 9

ISLA

I t’s been days since I saw Vincent—days since he came here to the penthouse, my gilded cage , to see me. It’s been days since that kiss .

The memory of that kiss has been the first thing on my mind every morning when I wake up and the last thing I think of at night before I close my eyes to sleep. Never has such an intense kiss consumed me so instantly.

I kissed Vincent to prove that he can’t control me. He can’t control me, regardless of his attempts. But it backfired spectacularly. Instead of gaining the upper hand with that unexpected power play, I now feel completely helpless, as all I can think about is wanting to kiss him again.

“There must be something wrong with me,” I say, shaking my head as I pace the penthouse and wait for the espresso machine to finish brewing. I haven’t been sleeping well and need the extra jolt of caffeine today. After dark, I lay in bed, replaying the feeling of Vincent’s mouth on mine in my mind.

“Are you ill?” Zara asks as she walks in and overhears me mumbling to myself.

I don’t have the courage to tell her that the only “illness” I’m suffering from is the longing that I feel toward her violent boss.

“No,” I say. “Just unsettled . Do you know why Vincent hasn’t come by?”

Zara shakes her head and pours us both a cup of coffee from the pot. She’s been checking in on me a lot over the past few days during Vincent’s absence. I’m growing fond of her simply because it’s nice to have a female friend around, although I’m not sure she’d consider us “friends”.

“Not sure,” she says as she sits down at the table with her laptop. She stays for a while sometimes just to keep me company, which is nice. But it’s easy to see when she’s lying, like now , because her eyes dart from side to side. “I think he’s just been busy with stuff. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Zara,” I say as I sit to join her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She closes her laptop and looks at me. Zara’s tone is always casual and maybe even aloof, but I’m seeing that she has an empathetic side that she keeps close to her chest. I connect with her more deeply than those around me. There’s a familiar look deep in her eyes that resonates with me, one that hints at the same emotional trauma I once went through—a kindred spirit, perhaps.

“Do you think Vincent is a decent man?” I ask.

Confliction plays out across her face almost instantly. “What do you mean by decent ? You realize who he is, right?”

“Yes,” I nod. “Vincent Moretti, notorious mafia don and lethal killer .”

Her eyes widen a bit in shock at my bluntness.

“I realize you work for him,” I say, stating the obvious. “And I’m sure your loyalty to Vincent is unwavering, but woman to woman, I’m asking you to tell me the truth. Please .”

Zara takes a slow sip from her coffee cup. She’s reluctant to be seen as befriending me, and I can understand why. Everyone around this place knows that Vincent demands unadulterated loyalty from each of them. Consequences for disloyalty are dire, as one dancer backstage at the ballet discovered—the night my life changed. But conflicted or not, Zara is the closest thing that I have here to a friend. Even if her answer is cryptic.

“Even the Devil was a good man once upon a time,” she says. “All of us have moments with wings and moments where we fall from grace, Isla. And all of us like to keep the worst versions of ourselves private. But privacy is an illusion, and you should trust no one— including me .”

With that, she stands up from the table, leaving me to wonder who, if there’s anyone here, I can actually trust. I still want to believe it could be her.

“Morning, ladies,” Vincent’s consigliere says as he strides into the penthouse.

I can see Marco close the door behind him after letting Luc in. It is a bit of reassurance knowing that Marco is always lingering nearby. As my personal bodyguard, he’s the second most vested person committed to keeping me safe. Some others I’m not so sure about, especially ones like Alonzo.

I watch as Luciano comes in to talk to Zara for a moment, and I eavesdrop on their conversation. Him, I’m not so sure about. I think his careful rule-following makes him potentially deadly or restrained, depending on the rules he follows.

“Any news on that small project I asked you to look into, Zara?” he asks as I go to stand by the window and pretend to be uninterested in their conversation.

“The Conti Family hack?” she asks. “Not yet. Leonardo Conti keeps his computer servers tightly monitored. Hacking into that is going to take some time. It might help if you tell me exactly what information it is that you want me to find in there.”

“Anything he’s got on Valentina Ricci,” Luc answers.

The abrupt silence causes me to turn and glance over at them. Zara has one eyebrow raised and her jaw dropped as she looks at him.

“Luc,” she says finally. “You know that heiress is off-limits, right? You’ll start a war between the families if you even so much as think about?—”

Vincent’s arrival interrupts her vocal concern. Instantly, the two of them drop their conversation and greet their boss as if they hadn’t been talking at all. It’s a small hairline crack in what is otherwise a perfect facade of obedience. But my attention is no longer focused on them. It’s immediately redirected to the man that I’ve been longing to see for days now.

“Vincent!” I call out without meaning to sound so panicked. “Where have you been?”

He looks straight at me but says nothing. He goes to Zara and Luc, addressing them both. Their conversation quickly turns to one of business, spoken in coded words so that I can’t quite follow what they’re saying as I stand there being ignored.

He’s punishing me with his silence. The kiss enraged him, leading to my punishment via his absence; alternatively, Vincent’s response to it might explain his wrath. When he gets ready to leave, I call out to him again.

“Vincent, wait. I need to talk to you,” I say as I walk toward the door and stand in front of it, using my body to block him from leaving.

He could easily shove me aside. Instead, he glares at me with a sort of unchecked vehemence that makes my hands shake. Still, I don’t budge.

“Leave us,” Vincent commands over his shoulder to both Zara and Luciano.

I step away from the door as the two of them walk out. Zara hesitates, her look conveying sympathy, as though sensing my imminent scolding. It makes me feel a little bit reassured, thinking that maybe she really is forming a slightly protective friendship with me. With them gone and the door closed, it’s only Vincent and I left in the room filled with palpable tension.

“What is it that you need to talk to me about, Isla?” he says with a carefully controlled tone.

“Where have you been?” I ask, taking a step closer to him. “Why haven’t you been back here to see me in days? You can’t just keep me locked up in here like some sort of doll on the top shelf that you take out to look at every once in a while? You can’t just ignore me, not after what happened between us.”

His blue eyes flare with anger, like the hot, brilliant blue centers of a flame.

“ Us ?” he asks with a cruel smirk and strained voice. “There is no us , Isla. What do you think this is, some kind of twisted fairytale in which you walk away with a happy ending? You have no idea who I am. You don’t understand what I am. I destroy what I love.”

One word, “love,” dominates his statement. Admittedly, I’m taken by surprise and it knocks me off balance.

This man is a monster, and I can’t forget that I’m trapped here in this place against my will. This one overly powerful man has essentially taken my life and holds me in this purgatory, determining my entire future. I should hate Vincent Moretti with every fiber of my being. I shouldn’t believe anyone, not even him, would choose me. In the past, whenever I’ve allowed someone in, I’ve ended up disappointed. It’s hard to trust that anything is real anymore. But even as I stare into the danger of his eyes, it’s hard not to see that the Devil himself might have beauty buried deep inside his soul somewhere.

I struggle against my emotions as I wrestle with my ability to trust a man who is nothing but red flags and warning labels. And as soon as I open my mouth to question him, Vincent pushes his body toward mine, pressing me up against the wall and pinning me there as he kisses me again.

This kiss feels unlike the previous one. It’s hungry , forbidden, and not at all gentle. His chest presses against mine so tightly that I can barely breathe, and his hand grabs the side of my hip so hard as it roots me in place that I know it will leave a bruise.

I’m not afraid of getting hurt, though. Right now, my desire for Vincent outweighs any fear I might have. His tongue pushes into my mouth, wrapping around mine as I try to catch my breath and kiss him back. I can feel the hardening bulge at the front of his pants pressing against my pelvis and it sends sparks throughout my body as if I’m suddenly coming to life for the first time. I reach my hand up to twist my fingers in his hair and in response, he kisses me harder.

I couldn’t move even if I wanted to escape from him at this moment. He’s strong and commanding and has complete control over my body now. But there’s also something new about Vincent that I can taste on his tongue as it sweeps inside my mouth—a frantic, feverish desperation , as if he’s trying futilely to gain control over not just me but also himself , and he can’t. He breathes raggedly through his open mouth, his chest heaving. The throbbing in his groin is so palpable that I can feel it against me. When I reach down, touch his pants, and tug at the button, I challenge Vincent’s carefully practiced control.

For a moment, he moves his mouth from mine and puts his lips to my ear. His entire body is trembling, muscles flexing as he threatens to crush me with his weight against the wall.

“Do you feel this, Isla?” he asks with a strained and sultry voice. “Do you feel how I can wield power over you and control every inch of your body?”

I try to speak but can’t, so I nod instead, feeling my cheek rub against his face as I do.

“ Good . Then you can feel the beast inside of me that you’re threatening to release.”

“ Please ,” I say in a heady whisper. “Vincent, I want?—”

He stops me before I can finish. “Be careful, my ballerina,” he warns as the stiffening of his cock against my body presses like steel between my thighs. His voice, though never raised or loud, remains terrifyingly tempting. “Be careful walking the fine line that you’re on—tempting me, resisting me, enraging me. You’re playing with a fire that will burn us both.”

When he brings his face back to mine, his narrowed eyes have a darkened depth in them that hints at a storm brewing within him. He stays pressed against me but lessens his weight against the wall to allow me a deep breath, which I drink in greedily. Vincent traces his fingers up the side of my neck and along the curve of my cheek, holding my face to his as he kisses me one last, lingering time. It’s slow, strong, and not-so-subtly dominant before he pulls away from me and leaves me unsteadily perched against the wall. A shot of cold runs through me as I place my palms on the cold, flat surface to quench my shaking.

“Next time you beg, Isla. I won’t stop,” he says before opening the door and walking out of the penthouse.

A few seconds later, Marco steps inside the open doorway and stares at me. I still haven’t moved from my spot.

“Are you alright?” he asks with a look of mild concern.

The truth is that I don’t know if I will ever be alright again. Not as long as I have this burning desire for my captor raging wildly out of control inside of me.

“Yes,” I lie as I take my hand off the wall and walk toward my bedroom. I know now that Vincent wants nothing more than to possess me. I want nothing more than to survive him. Maybe there’s a way that we both win.