Isaia: Chapter 11

There’s something about the way she moves—quiet but intentional, like she’s trying to be invisible but doesn’t realize she’s the brightest fucking thing in the room.

It’s not just her face, though God knows that’s enough to ruin a man. It’s the way her hands brush the counter, the way she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, the slight bite of her bottom lip when she thinks no one’s looking.

Except, I’m looking. And I can’t stop.

It’s like she’s got this gravitational pull, and I’m the idiot who can’t resist getting dragged in. Every little movement she makes is a fucking symphony, and I’m stuck on the front row, watching, craving more.

When she leans over to grab a tray, the curve of her neck is exposed for just a second—just long enough to drive me insane.

My fists clench at my sides, the itch to close the distance nearly unbearable. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. Or maybe she does.

Maybe she’s aware of the chaos she stirs every time her lips twitch in that almost-smile when a customer says something dumb.

Maybe she knows that when she tilts her head just so, letting her hair fall over her shoulder, it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to reach out and feel its softness between my fingers.

Fuck, even the way she wipes the counter, her movements precise and rhythmic, feels intimate, like I’m intruding on something private. There’s a fire simmering beneath her surface, and I want to be the one to stoke it, to see what she looks like when she finally burns.

And that mouth. Jesus Christ. I was so fucking close to kissing her the other night—in my head, I was already two steps ahead with my tongue down her throat.

Being that close to her, feeling her pulse beneath my fingers, it did something to me. It made me want her in ways I’ve never wanted any woman before, made me want to see how fast I can get her heart to beat for me.

Fucking dog. I could have sat here knowing exactly what she tastes like if it weren’t for the four-legged menace. Instead, I’m sitting here driving myself fucking insane by not being able to tear my eyes off her. The way her teeth catch her bottom lip, worrying it like she’s lost in thought, drives me out of my goddamn mind.

She’s completely unaware of what she does to me, moving through the café like she’s just another cog in the machine. But she’s not. She’s the whole damn thing—the reason the place feels alive, electric. She’s the one who’s got my pulse racing, my mind spiraling into places it shouldn’t go while I sit here, pretending to give a shit about the coffee in front of me.

I should stop watching. But I know I won’t.

She missed her shifts for the past two days. I’ve been watching her ever since she walked in here this morning, not missing a beat, not hiding in the shadows like I did for the past two nights.

Of course, I kept an eye on her, staking out her house, making sure she didn’t run. I half-expected her to be long gone by sunrise after that night I found her gasping for air on her porch.

Fuck, that was a risky move, rushing over to help her like some lovesick freak, a stalker on a stakeout. But when I saw her collapse, nothing else mattered. The only thought pounding in my head was reaching her, consequences be damned. No plan, no viable excuse for why I’d be there. Just the need to make sure she was okay.

But once I crossed that threshold, I didn’t want to leave.

I wanted to stay, to explore every inch of her—the house, sure, but her most of all. My mission should’ve been to snoop, to pick up clues, anything that could tie her to her stepdad’s schemes. But the second the door closed, everything changed. It was just us, removed from the rest of the world.

I wanted to trace my fingers along her pale, moonlit skin, watch her shiver under my touch. I wanted to taste the secrets hidden in those mismatched eyes, mysteries kept buried beneath layers she guarded so carefully. I wanted to kiss her. I still do.

The thought of her haunts me, a question that gnaws at the edge of my sanity.

What would her lips taste like? I picture them, soft and warm, a hint of defiance mixed with the unmistakable heat I know she feels too.

How would she react? Would she pull away? Or would she let me in, surrender to the intensity between us, welcoming the pressure of my lips?

Crave my special kind of twisted?

I shift in my seat, trying to get my dick under control when Alexius strolls in, and like magic, my cock deflates immediately.

I swear to God, it’s like the entire room forgets how to breathe. Heads turn, conversations falter, and for a second, all you can hear is the quiet hum of anticipation. He moves like he owns the air around him—every step calculated, effortless, like gravity bends just to keep him grounded.

The bastard looks like he walked straight off a magazine cover. Sharp jawline, piercing eyes, suit tailored so perfectly it’s practically a second skin. His presence isn’t just commanding; it’s goddamn magnetic. People can’t help but stare, their eyes trailing him like he’s some untouchable force of nature.

He stops just inside the door, surveying the room with that cool, detached gaze, and it’s clear. Alexius doesn’t enter a space. He owns it.

I stand, and he sees me. Without a word, I nod toward the back, my office.

He follows, his footsteps echoing in sync with mine, cutting through the lingering stares like a knife. People part instinctively, clearing a path for us without realizing they’re doing it. He doesn’t acknowledge them, doesn’t need to. His mere presence demands attention, commands respect.

I push open the office door, stepping aside as he walks in. His sharp gaze sweeps the room, assessing it like he’s cataloging every inch, every exit, every weak spot. He moves with the ease of a man who knows he’s untouchable, and he is. So am I. Perks of being a Del Rossa.

The door clicks shut behind me. “You’ve got everyone out there acting like they just saw a goddamn god walk in.”

There’s a slight curve of his lips. “Let them stare.” He shrugs off his coat, draping it over the back of a chair, then goes to stand by the window, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the street below with that stern, calculating gaze.

“A coffeeshop,” he starts, then turns to face me. “Different from our usual setup.”

“By different, you mean not a sex club?”

He lets out a laugh. “Exactly. But I’d say you picked the right place. Low-key. Quiet enough for our needs. A smart purchase.”

“Thanks, brother. But as much as I’d love to have you blow some smoke up my ass, the low-key factor isn’t why I bought it.”

“Oh, I know.” He turns, his gaze steady. “It’s about her. The girl with the dog.”

“Of course, it is.” I don’t even try to deny it.

I pick up the phone, and Molly answers before the first ring has finished. “Sir?”

“Two black coffees.”

“Right a⁠—”

I hang up.

“It’s a good thing you came by this morning,” I say, leaning back in the new leather chair behind the desk I had delivered yesterday. “I think Caelian and Nicoli need to show their faces around here too.”

Alexius raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“If Rinaldi has eyes on us or Everly, showing a strong presence here might remind him who he’s up against.”

“Intimidation tactic? I like it.” He adjusts his tie as he takes a seat across from me. It must be exhausting, being that perfect all the damn time. His suits are always flawless—immaculate lines, not a wrinkle in sight. He’s a shark in a school of goldfish.

His gaze shifts to my leather jacket, his eyes narrowing, and I don’t miss the assessment. “If you’re set on being a businessman, maybe start dressing like one.”

“I didn’t buy this place to play dress-up. And you know as well as I do I’m not one for monkey suits. They don’t quite go with my lifestyle.”

“And what lifestyle’s that?”

“The kind that doesn’t give a fuck about suits.”

A soft knock sounds and the door opens, framing her—Everly, carrying a tray with two steaming cups. Her gaze finds mine, her mismatched eyes capturing my full attention, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us. The rhythm of my pulse shifts, each beat echoing her name.

She glances at Alexius briefly before her gaze returns to me, lingering for just a second longer than it should, and I know she feels the weight of my attention.

Every movement she makes is smooth, almost hypnotic—the way her lips press together as she balances the tray, the grace in her posture. She doesn’t know it, but everything about her pulls me in, harder and deeper each time.

“Your coffee,” she murmurs so softly it barely reaches above a whisper.

She sets the cups down, and I can’t help myself; I reach for the cup just as she pulls back, letting my fingers brush against hers. It’s an intentional move, a selfish one, but that fleeting contact is a flare of heat that’s got my cock rock-hard and my mind racing with every dark, filthy thought I’d push into reality if given half the chance.

Her gaze drops to my lips, and something raw flickers in her eyes before she looks back up, reconnecting with my stare. A second later, she pulls away, breaking the connection, but not before leaving a trail of heat in her wake.

As she reaches the door, I call, “Everly?”

She stops, glancing over her shoulder.

“Don’t go far,” I say, watching her lips part at my words. She hesitates a fraction of a second, then slips out, closing the door behind her.

“Isaia,” Alexius’s voice snaps me out of the haze, pulling me back to the cold reality of the room, “whatever you’re thinking about that girl, don’t.”

I shift, unwilling to let him get under my skin. “I’m not thinking anything,” I reply, pulling open a drawer and grabbing a flask of whiskey, pouring more than a reasonable amount into my coffee.

Alexius slides his cup closer, and I empty the rest of the flask into his coffee before he drags the cup back, raising an eyebrow. “Your mind might not be thinking anything, but your dick sure is.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious. You’d have to be blind not to see how you two practically vanished into each other just now.”

I scoff, brushing him off. “I’ve got it under control.”

“Do you?”

I level him with a stare. “Is there a reason you’re here, or are you just here to piss me off?”

He shrugs. “You’ve been scarce these last few days. Thought I’d check in on you.”

“You mean check up on me.”

“Well, that. And of course I want to take a look at our family’s recent purchase.”

I clench my jaw. “I told you I got this covered.”

“I know.” He settles back. “But when you’re hardly home to report back, and not answering calls, of course I’m going to check up on you.”

I lean back in my seat, the sound of traffic spilling through the window. “Remember how Dad used to tell us to follow our instincts, that if we feel something in our gut, it’s probably because it’s right.”

He lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “I do.”

“She’s not a threat, Alexius. Not to us.”

Alexius raises an eyebrow. “She’s close to Michele, and that connection alone makes her a liability.”

“Does it?” I challenge, and my brother studies me, taking a long drag from his smoke before stumping it out in the crystal ashtray.

“Don’t get sentimental, Isaia.”

“I’m not.”

“Then keep your head clear. It’s easy to see what we want to see when we want it bad enough.” His tone hardens. “Family comes first. Protecting what’s ours comes first.”

I nod once. “Always.”

“Good.” He finishes his coffee and straightens his suit jacket. “You gonna be home tonight? Mira’s cooking.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. “In that case…no.”

He lets out a laugh, then strides toward the door. “Word of advice, don’t lose your head.”

“What kind of advice is that?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully let you keep your dick in your pants.”

As Alexius leaves, Everly steps into the doorway, nearly bumping into him.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she says, cheeks flushing a shade of pink that instantly grabs my attention. Alexius gives her a polite nod and disappears around the corner, leaving us alone.

She glances at me. “Sorry. I just wanted to see if you and your brother needed a refill.”

“Close the door,” I demand, watching her expression flicker with a hint of discomfort.

She complies, shutting the door softly.

Today, she’s in a beige floral dress, the apron cinched around her waist accentuating every curve the loose fabric tries—and fails—to hide.

Her fingers linger on the doorknob as if grounding herself before she faces me.

“Where have you been?” I keep my voice steady.

“Home.” Her tone’s steady, but those beautiful irises flash fiercely. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

God, I love her brand of fire.

“I’m your boss now, Everly. I at least expect a text if you plan on not showing up for work.”

She bites her lower lip, glancing everywhere except at me. “I needed some time.”

“For what?”

Finally, her gaze meets mine. “It’s personal.”

“Is it about the call you got the other night?”

“My personal life has nothing to do with you, Isaia.” She crosses her arms, a physical display of how she’s shutting me out, but the only thing she’s doing is making me want her secrets so much more.

I rise from my chair, moving toward her, stopping just close enough to feel the charge between us, a current sparking in the air. “You’re my employee. Your well-being is of my concern.”

“Nothing of mine is your concern.”

“Take off that dress, and I’ll have every last bit of you begging to be my concern.”

A flush creeps over her cheeks, and damn, it’s a sight. That little slip in her control makes me want to push her further and see how deep I can make that blush go.

“You haven’t left town.” My words come out low, controlled.

“Why would I leave town?”

I study every reaction, every subtle shift. “After our conversation the other night. You knowing who I am. Me knowing who you are. I’d say you had enough reason to skip town.”

Her eyes flash, a hint of defiance in their depths. “Maybe I don’t scare easily.”

“Maybe you have an incentive to stay around.”

“You think me sticking around is more evidence that I’m spying on you?”

“Maybe.” I take a calculated step closer, leaning in. “Or maybe you’re just too curious for your own good.”

“Curious about what?”

I lick my lips slowly, my tone dropping. “Me.”

Her gaze flickers down to my mouth before snapping back up. “Yeah?” she breathes, an edge to her voice. “You think you’re that interesting?”

“I think you’re that curious.” Another step, and her back hits the wall.

Her breath hitches, and I lean close, careful not to touch her. I want her hungry. I want her mad with desire before I pull her apart.

“Thing is,” I murmur, my eyes tracing her face, “I’m not sure you’re ready for what you’re inviting in with that curiosity of yours.”

“I’m not inviting anything.”

I raise a brow, and inch closer. “Then why can’t you stop looking at me like you want me to cross every line with you.”

That delicate vein in her neck is going apeshit again. I’m affecting her, and she’s trying so fucking hard not to show it.

Hmm, my little troublemaker needs a nudge.

I bring my elbow above her shoulders, firmly planting my arms against the wall on either side of her face, our gazes locked, my body barely touching hers. “What if I said you should have left town?”

She swallows, the gentle bob of her throat catching my eye, drawing me in. “I’ll tell you that I can make my own decisions,” she murmurs, soft but steady.

I slide my thigh between hers, watching as her lips part, her breath catching. I bite down on my lip, holding back for just a second, then press higher, giving her the exact pressure I know her body needs. “How long will you last before you realize exactly what you’ve stepped into?”

“What did I step into?” She raises her chin, a show of defiance, but her eyes tell tales of sin.

“You stepped into my world, and in case you haven’t figured it out, I’m the kind of bad you don’t walk away from.” I press my body to hers, rubbing my thigh against her pussy, pressing harder, and she parts those thighs of hers just a little more.

Her hands are against my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. Instead, her fingers curl slightly, gripping my shirt as if anchoring herself.

“Isaia, what are you doing?” She’s breathless, and I feel the slightest move of her body against mine like she wants something, but she’s too scared to ask for it.

Lowering my mouth to the side of her neck, her scent floods my senses—an addictive, delicate blend that teases the air around her. It’s fresh and sharp, the green bite of grapefruit layered with something sweeter, softer, with an airy undertone of jasmine. It’s not just a scent; it’s a magnetic, intoxicating thing, each note subtle but irresistible.

My lips brush against the shell of her ear. “You should have left when you had the chance.” She never had a chance. The darkness that clings to me, mixed with the curiosity this woman stirs, wouldn’t have let her get far. If she ran, I would have found her and dragged her back to where she is now. Willing or unwilling.

“Maybe I don’t wanna leave,” she murmurs. “Maybe a walking red flag is my thing.”

“You’ve got no idea what you’re letting in,” I rasp, my hand sliding up her thigh, fingers digging in just enough to leave a memory.

“What is it you call me?” Her eyes are wide, that fire flickering, daring me, begging me. “Troublemaker.”

A fierce jolt of heat surges through me, and I seize her waist, spinning her around, pulling her back flush against my chest. One hand finds her throat, fingers curling possessively, while the other grips her hip, pressing her right into me.

She gasps, her breath hitching, and I don’t hold back, flexing hard against her so she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me. “You’d better be careful, Everly. Troublemakers like you get tangled up in things they shouldn’t.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither the fuck did I. But here we are.” My grip tightens, fingers pressing into the delicate fabric of her dress, my rough hand sliding over the curve of her waist. “God,” I breathe heavily, “why do I want you so much?”

She shudders against me as I move my hand up, cupping her breast, the softness under my palm almost undoing me.

Her reaction is instant, a gasp escaping her that fuels the fire burning between us. It’s like heat and lightning are rolling off her in waves, pulling me under, each sound she makes fanning the flames higher.

“Isaia,” she rasps, and the shiver that runs through her only stokes the heat between us, “what’s happening?”

“What’s happening,” I grit out, dropping my hand to her thigh, winding up the fabric of her dress in my palm, “is that you’re getting under my fucking skin. And all I can think about is what it would feel like to be inside you. How tight you’d be around me. How I wouldn’t be able to stop once I’m in.”

Her breathing is ragged, every exhale a heated crackle of desire, and I move lower, hand trailing between her thighs, and the second I feel that damp spot on her panties, I nearly lose my fucking mind.

A rumble of lust rises in me, low and primal. “Let me inside this body of yours, Everly. Let me make you feel good.”

“No,” she breathes, but it’s not so much a denial as it is a whimper reverberating through her throat, her body thrumming against mine like a charged wire.

I flex against her and press my fingers harder against that wet spot. “Do you feel it? That ache? That need? It’s only going to get worse.”

“Isaia, please.”

“Let me fuck you, little troublemaker.” I’m rubbing my cock up and down her ass, and I swear I can come like this.

“Isaia, no.” She reaches down, sliding her hand over mine that’s still between her legs. Her palm lingers there a beat, then gently guides it higher. “Not like this.”

A raw, guttural groan rips up my throat, the kind that comes from that pure, unrestrained need to fuck.

I let go, then she’s gone, slipped out of the office without a second glance, the door clicking shut behind her and leaving me alone, with this brutal pounding in my cock, aching like a motherfucker.

Dragging a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the fire she just left me burning in, I let out a rough laugh.

There’s a twisted power in her refusal, a kind of control she doesn’t even realize she’s holding. And that refusal, that small taste of restraint, coils inside me like a snake, tightening its grip, making me crave her even more than I’d thought possible.