Page 27 of Devil’s Gambit

"Assignments." My voice cuts through the smoke.

"Marco, you're on mansion security. Full assessment, new protocols.

And brother?" I meet his eyes. "No thinking with your dick this time.

I want background checks that go back to kindergarten.

Anyone who's so much as gotten a parking ticket near FBI headquarters gets flagged. "

"Jesus, one federal agent slips through?—"

"One is too many. Paulie, I need your crews ready to deploy. Sal's estate, his businesses, anywhere he might run. When he moves, I want to know before his feet hit the ground."

Paulie grins, that pretty face lighting up with anticipation of violence. "My boys are getting restless anyway. They'll love this."

"Vito." I turn to the big man. "You and Jeff handle the legal side. Shell companies, asset transfers—anything that makes our money invisible to federal eyes."

Jeff starts to pour another drink, but Vito takes the bottle and sets it aside. "We'll need at least two weeks to?—"

"You have one." I stand, pulling Isabella up with me.

She stays pressed to my side, the gun disappearing into her purse.

"Gentlemen, let me be clear. We're not just going to beat the Calabrese family.

We're going to burn them to the ground. Every business, every connection, every memory of their existence in this city. "

"Fuck yes." Marco's grin turns savage. "Do we get to keep the women? You know, spoils of war and all that?"

"The women, the cars, the gold teeth from their fucking mouths if you want." I let my voice carry the promise of absolute destruction. "Everything they have becomes ours."

The room erupts in dark laughter, in promises of violence, in the kind of energy that builds before armies march. They're ready now. Ready to follow this insane plan because I've promised them what they understand—complete annihilation of our enemies.

"Now get out. Make it happen."

They file out, voices overlapping with plans and preparations. Vito's hand stays on Jeff's lower back, guiding him toward the door. Paulie's already on his phone, calling his crews. Marco throws me a mock salute before disappearing.

Isabella and I are alone.

The moment the door closes, she sags against me.

"I'm scared," she admits, muffled against my chest.

"You don't have to do this." I tilt her chin up, making her meet my eyes. "We can find another way."

"No, we can't." She tries to look away, but I hold her face gently. "This is necessary. The FBI needs an active victim. Someone in immediate danger. It's the only way to make them move fast enough."

Before I can respond, the phone in her purse rings. The FBI phone.

The sound cuts through the room like a blade. Isabella freezes, staring at her purse like it contains a live grenade. The phone rings again, shrill and demanding.

"I don't think I can do this," she whispers, hands shaking as she reaches for it.

"You can." I steady her hand with mine. "I'm right here."

She pulls it out with trembling fingers, the phone enormous in her small hand. She stares at the screen, breathing fast and shallow. Third ring.

"Answer it," I tell her softly. "I've got you."

She answers on the fourth ring, just before it would go to voicemail.

"Hello?" Her voice cracks, then transforms, becomes smaller, more frightened. Playing the victim but barely playing—the fear is real. "Agent Martinez?"

I can hear the federal agent's voice, tinny through the phone. Isabella's free hand finds mine, gripping it like an anchor.

"Yes, I... I can meet tomorrow." Her voice shakes. "I'm scared. What if someone sees me? What if—" A pause as Martinez says something reassuring. "Noon?" Another pause. "The Chinese restaurant in Chinatown? Golden Dragon?"

Her eyes find mine, wide and terrified. I nod, squeezing her hand.

"Okay. Okay, I'll be there." Her voice drops to barely a whisper.

"Agent Martinez, I... what if he finds out?

What if Dante—" She lets the fear bleed through, sells it perfectly because she doesn't have to pretend.

"No, you're right. I need help. I need..

. thank you. Tomorrow. I'll try to be brave. "

She ends the call with shaking fingers, the phone clattering as she sets it down. Her whole body trembles now, the reality of what she's agreed to hitting full force.

"Tomorrow," she says, voice so small it aches my chest.

"Tomorrow," I agree, then take the phone and toss it aside. "But tonight, you're mine."

"I'm so scared, Dante." The words come out as a sob. "What if something goes wrong? What if Sal?—"

"Look at me." My voice is commanding but gentle. When she doesn't, I tilt her chin up with one finger, making her meet my eyes. "Nothing will happen to you. I won't let it."

"You can't promise that."

"I can. I do." My hands frame her face, thumbs brushing away tears. "You're mine, Isabella. Mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine to worship."

She shivers at the possession in my voice, and I pull her against my chest. Her small body fits perfectly against mine, like she was designed to be sheltered here.

"Feel that?" I murmur against her hair. "You were made for my protection. Made to be mine."

"Dante..." Her voice is breathless now, fear transforming as I back her slowly against the table.

"You're so fucking brave," I tell her, hands sliding down to span her tiny waist. "Walking into that room full of killers. Standing up to Vito. Pulling out that gun."

"I was terrified?—"

"And you did it anyway." I lift her onto the table effortlessly and step between her legs. "That's what makes you magnificent. My beautiful, terrified, brave girl."

She looks up at me with those storm-gray eyes, tears making them shine like silver. The red dress has ridden up her thighs, and she looks small and vulnerable and absolutely perfect perched on my war table.

"I need you to make me forget," she whispers. "Just for tonight. Make me forget everything but you."

"Isabella..." I growl her name, hands tightening on her waist.

"Please." Her small hands clutch at my shirt. "I need to feel yours. I need?—"

I kiss her, swallowing her fears, her needs, her everything. She melts against me instantly, soft and pliant, letting me take complete control. My hand tangles in her hair, tilting her head to the angle I want, deepening the kiss until she's gasping against my mouth.

"You’re mine," I tell her between kisses. "Every inch of you. Every breath. Every heartbeat."

"I know," she gasps, wrapping her legs around my waist and pressing closer.

I lift her from the table, and she clings to me, trusting me completely with her weight, with her safety, with everything. She's so light in my arms, so fragile, and the need to protect her, to possess her, to claim her completely overwhelms everything else.

"You're stunning like this," I tell her, carrying her toward the door. "Terrified and brave and absolutely mine."

"Where are we?—"

"Somewhere I can worship you properly." I kick the door open and stride toward the stairs. "Somewhere I can make you forget everything but my name."

Tomorrow, she walks into danger. Tomorrow, she risks everything.

But tonight? Tonight, I'm going to hold her, worship her, and make her feel so safe, loved, and possessed that she'll carry my strength with her into whatever comes next.

The war can wait.

My woman needs me.