Part 2:

The broad set of his shoulders blocking out the sun, dark hair lifting in the wind off the sea, and the hand wrapped around her wrist, large sunbrown, the hand of a man who’d done violence. And yet the nails clean, the grip controlled, almost careful where it held her. She hated that she’d noticed. She looked away.

By the time the ground leveled out at the top, her sandals were half torn from her feet, and her arm achd to the shoulder where his grip had never once loosened. The cars came into view ahead. He didn’t slow until they reached them. The second car was already pulling away, climbing toward the Conte estate behind a wall of dust.

A man waited beside the car that had stayed, hands folded in front of him. Mr. Svino. His eyes moved to Isabella asking a question. We sent Miss Ki up to the estate. Mr. Svino. Isabella’s breath came faster. So this was Eeros Sino, the mafia boss. The man whose name her father had screamed through the helicopter noise. The man who still hadn’t let go of her wrist.

His thumb stayed against the bones of her wrist, light and deliberate, while his eyes moved over her face. When he spoke, the words came slow and edged with mockery. So the woman I came for is in that car on her way to the estate. His gaze sharpened on her. “Which makes you who exactly?” Her heart slammed hard enough that she thought he could feel it through her pulse, but she lifted her chin. Shrinking had never been in her.

“Anita,” the name came out steady. “Miss Kant’s assistant.” Her eyes cut to the dust trail of the car already gone. Whether they’d hurt Anita was the only question in her head, and she couldn’t ask it. Aeros caught her chin on one finger and turned her face back to his own. An assistant. He studied her like a thing he hadn’t decided about.

Too pretty for a housekeeper. Too proud for an assistant. The man by the car spoke up. Boss. Veto Ki’s helicopter touched down in Sicily. Our people there have eyes on him. The corner of Iris’s mouth lifted. Good. He runs. He pays for it either way, he murmured, his eyes never leaving her. He took her by the arm and walked her to the open car door. “Get in.

” A short, furious laugh escaped her. “Why are you taking me? I’m no use to you.” He pressed a hand to the back of her head and folded her down into the seat, his gaze still on her face. “You know the house. You’ll serve in it. You’ll serve for me.” When he slid in beside her, the whole air inside changed.

His height, the weight of him, that scent that was only his. It filled the space until there was no part of it she could breathe that wasn’t him. The car pulled out toward the estate where she’d grown up. The driver glanced at the mirror. Boss, does it make sense for us to stay here? Aos was looking out the window.

His answer came hard and low with no room in it for argument. We stay until I find another place on this island. He kept his gaze on the road, the hard line of his jaw catching the passing light. Veto Ki took something that wasn’t his. Now he’ll learn what it feels like. Beside her, the quiet grew heavier, pressing on her skin.

Then he looked over at her slow enough to make her pulse trip. The house is mine. The daughter is mine. His gaze dropped to the wrist he still hadn’t fully released, then came back to her face, cold and dangerously calm. Even the maid. Isabella kept her eyes on the window. Ahead. The other car carried her name up to the house where she’d grown up, a place that had never once felt like freedom.

The ring had left her hand minutes ago, the name only moments after. Strange how little fear came with it. A woman with nothing left to lose was a harder thing to hold than either of them knew yet. The car rolled to a stop at the main gates of the Conte estate. Isabella searched the grounds out of habit. the gate house, the long drive, the terrace where her father’s men always stood, not one familiar face.

Her father’s guards were gone, every last one of them. And in their place moved men she had never seen, carrying themselves like the place already belonged to them. Os stepped out and took his time with the mansion, a man measuring something he had already decided to keep. He spoke to the driver climbing out beside him.

Put the girl in one of the rooms, Tony. His attention came back to her through the open door. I’ll get her story later. He walked toward the mansion the way he had moved everywhere since the cliff, certain in no hurry, as if nothing here could touch him. Tony reached in and hauled her out by the arm. Out you come.

She wrenched against his grip. Get your hands off me. Don’t touch me. Aos stopped. He didn’t turn right away, and when he did, there was nothing quick about it. “Leave her to me, Tony.” She gave him the full weight of her glare. His fingers closed around her wrist again, the same hold, as if he had never quite finished the one from the cliff, and he started toward the house, drawing her along with him.

“Come, show me the place.” The edge of a smile sat at his mouth. “Since you’re the help around here, let go of my arm.” She kept her feet under her and refused to be towed. I’m not running anywhere. No. He looked almost entertained. Given where I caught you, running clearly isn’t your strong suit.

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