Isaia: Chapter 19

I don’t like the look on her face—secrets and shadows written into every delicate line. Her eyes, those perfectly imperfect irises, flicker with conflict. She’s wrestling with something, and every instinct I have tells me I’m not going to like where this is headed.

“Talk.” My tone is low, rough. Threatening.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” There’s a tremor in her voice, and my fists clench.

“You’re keeping something from me, Everly. And you’re going to tell me what the fuck it is.”

Her arms cross over her chest, her chin lifting in defiance. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

I’m on her in a heartbeat, my hand gripping her jaw, fingers pressing firmly but not enough to hurt.

“Tread real fucking lightly, woman.” The warning vibrates between us, and I let go, my hand dropping away, but my eyes stay locked on her. “Now, talk.”

There’s a heartbeat of hesitation before she finally says, “Anthony’s a friend. You heard him. He just came to check on me after the news of my mother.”

A sharp, humorless laugh escapes me. “A friend? Anthony fucking Paladino is a friend?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re telling me he crossed state lines, walked into my city, just to check in on you?” I lean in, crowding her space, my body a looming wall of heat. “This is the part where I caution you not to fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, Isaia. I have no reason to.”

My hands find her shoulders, and I push her down into the leather chair, my grip firm but not harsh. I lean forward, my palms flat on the armrests, boxing her in.

“You’re going to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on. No more secrets, no more half-truths, and definitely no more dodging my questions with vague bullshit.”

“It’s not⁠—”

“You’re not leaving this chair until I get answers. Do not fuck with me, Everly.”

Her bottom lip trembles and her eyes glisten with tears she’s clearly fighting to hold back. For a second, it tugs at something deep inside me, but I can’t let it soften my edge. Not now.

“I didn’t want this,” she whispers, her gaze falling to her lap. “You. Anthony. Any of this.”

“You think I want this?” I growl, leaning in close enough that my breath fans over her cheek. “My life has been nothing but complications since I met you. Now I’ve got two of the most powerful New York families circling my city, and every single sign points back to you. Rinaldi shows up out of nowhere. Paladino acts like he owns a piece of you.”

Her breath catches, and I can see her defenses crumbling. She’s close to breaking, and I press harder.

“Tell me, Everly. Why is Rinaldi on you like a goddamn vulture? Why do you hate him so much? And why the fuck is Paladino acting like he has some claim on you?”

“Because I’m supposed to marry him!”

The words hit like a gunshot, and for a second, the air freezes.

“What did you just say?”

Her tear-filled eyes meet mine, and her voice cracks as she repeats it. “Michele wants me to marry Anthony. He’s been trying to force it since I turned eighteen.”

Everything around me blurs, fades to static. My breathing slows, controlled only because I’m barely hanging on.

Images flood my mind—her in a white dress, saying yes to him in front of God, wearing his goddamn ring.

His mouth on hers.

Her body arching under his on their wedding night.

A sick twist of rage and something darker claws at my spine.

He’ll never have her. Not while I’m still breathing. If he so much as looks at her like she belongs to him again, I’ll make sure he never looks at anything else.

I push off the chair and pace, my thoughts racing, fury building in my chest. “A Rinaldi-Paladino alliance.”

She nods, wiping at her face. “First, Michele offered me money—more than I could ever spend in a lifetime. When that didn’t work, he turned to threats.”

My jaw clenches so hard it aches. “What kind of threats?”

Her fingers twist the orange scarf around her neck, pulling it tight. “If I don’t agree, he’d sell me to the highest bidder. He’d make sure I spent my life locked away, being nothing more than a—how did he put it?—fuck doll to some psycho.”

“Motherfucker.” Anger ripples through my veins as I grab the bottle of bourbon from my desk and pour myself a glass.

It’s all starting to make sense now, Rinaldi trying to kidnap her and take her back to New York. He’s in a hurry to marry her off. Son of a fucking bitch. My hand shakes slightly, a rare tell I don’t bother hiding.

“Make that two.”

I glance at her, her eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks streaked with tears.

I pour another glass and hand it to her silently. She takes it without a word, downing it in one go, her face scrunching slightly at the burn. The heavy silence that follows presses against my skull like a vise.

Finally, I break it. “I know how this shit works. Arranged marriages, alliances, power grabs. But what I don’t get is how you’ve managed to dodge this arrangement for so long.”

She sets the empty glass on the table with a soft clink, her fingers lingering on the edge. “He’s been helping me.”

I cock a brow. “Who?”

“Anthony.”

The way she says his name, soft and familiar, makes me want to end him. Not because I’m afraid he’ll take her—he won’t—but I hate his fucking name on her lips.

I want to erase him, wipe him from her memory. Does she trust him that much? Does she run to him when she needs someone?

The thought twists in my gut, sharp and unforgiving.

Fingers gripping the glass, I let the edge bite into my palm. “That makes no fucking sense, Paladino helping you.”

She stands, pacing, her scarf twisted between her hands. “We’ve been friends since I moved in with Michele and my mom. Anthony promised he’ll only marry me if it’s what I want and not because I’m forced.”

Marry her? Over my bleeding, rotting, decomposing fucking corpse.

“He made it clear to Michele that it’s the one and only condition he has. I have to agree to a marriage willingly, or else he won’t do it.”

The way she speaks of him, soft and full of trust, sends a jolt of rage straight through me. Heat pools in my chest, dangerous and uncontrollable.

“How fucking noble of him,” I spit out. Piece of shit motherfucker.

“He’s not like the others,” she continues, and I roll my eyes, my chest burning.

“Don’t kid yourself, Everly. They’re all the same.”

Her head snaps toward me, her eyes blazing. “You mean you’re all the same. You’re from the same world, so how are you any different?”

It’s a challenge. One that digs under my skin like a blade.

I shift in my seat, fighting the urge to put my fist through the nearest wall. Images flash in my mind—Anthony’s smug face, bloodied and broken under my hands while I cut off his motherfucking ring finger and feed it to him.

“So, you expect me to believe that you and Paladino are…friends?” I can barely choke out the word without sneering. Can a word be poison? Can a word taste like goddamn bile? “That your free will is more important to him than a power move for a Rinaldi-Paladino alliance?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything. Believe what you want.”

“It makes no fucking sense, Everly. An alliance like that will tip the balance completely in their favor. They’ll be fucking untouchable.”

“Anthony is my friend.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I scoff.

“You think I can afford that house on a waitress’s pay?” Her eyes flash as she continues, her words spilling out like she’s been holding them in too long. “Think I can outrun a man like Michele on my own?”

My jaw tightens, and I drag a hand down my face, trying to rein in the storm building inside me.

“Anthony’s the only reason Michele hasn’t sold me off yet.” She says it like it’s some badge of honor. Like Paladino’s the white knight who rode in to save her. “He made it clear—if Michele so much as touches me or follows through on any of his threats, it’ll mean war between the Rinaldi and Paladino families.”

My grip tightens around the glass in my hand, the image of that smug bastard playing protector lighting a fire beneath my skin.

“So now Paladino’s your fucking savior?”

“He’s the only one I trust. The only one who’s ever tried to protect me.”

“Yet I was the one who protected you when your psychopath stepdad tried to kidnap you.” It’s only after the words leave my mouth that I realize what I said. The bomb I dropped.

Everly’s eyes widen, her cheeks pale. “What?”

“The other night at the restaurant. His men were outside waiting to grab you the second you stepped out.”

She stares at me in disbelief, instantly pale. “What are you talking about?”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “Why do you think I got you out of there so fast? Michele wants to take you back to New York, and my guess is it’s not for high tea with your mother.”

I watch her carefully as she digests it all, purposely not telling her about the guy I killed practically on her fucking doorstep. She doesn’t need to know about that.

Everly takes her empty glass and silently pours herself another drink, this time to the brim, then locks eyes with me. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The leather of the chair creaks as she sits back down, taking large gulps of bourbon. “It doesn’t make sense. Even if he gets me back in New York, Anthony won’t marry me because I will never consent to it.”

I almost laugh at how much faith she has in this man and their so-called friendship. “Maybe he had a change of heart.”

“No.” There’s steel in how convinced she is. “He promised me, and I trust him.”

There’s that fucking word again. Trust. And now I’m seeing all these images inside my head. Him standing too close, his hand on her back, introducing her as his wife to his associates, whispering things in her ear that make her smile.

The thought alone makes my fists curl, straining the glass in my hand under the pressure.

I clench my jaw, already knowing I’ll regret asking, “Is he in love with you?”

She stares at me, not saying a word, yet her silence screams the answer so loudly my fucking ears bleed.

I’m going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully.

In the meantime, I want to break something, tear the room apart until there’s nothing left but us. If she thinks he’s the only one who cares enough to protect her, then she’s about to find out how far I’ll go to make sure she never speaks of him with that kind of reverence again.

“You think he’s doing all this out of the goodness of his heart, Everly?”

“I know he is.” She sounds so fucking certain. There’s no hesitation. No second-guessing. She trusts him in a way that has me wanting to split the motherfucker’s skull. It makes my skin crawl, my vision blur, and I’m already planning a hundred different ways to make him bleed out all over my goddamn shoes.

“He’s not your protector, Everly,” I grind out. “He’s a fucking Paladino. Everything he does has a price, whether you see it or not.”

“And what about you, Isaia? Your families are the same. Live by the same rules, wield the same power. What’s your price?”

Without thinking, I close the distance between us, my hands gripping her arms as I pull her close.

“You want to know my price?” It’s a harsh whisper, my lips inches from hers. “I don’t want money. I don’t want alliances. I want you. Every fucking inch of you. And I’ll destroy anyone who thinks they can take you from me.”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know enough.” My thumb brushes along her jaw, my grip firm as I tilt her head to meet my gaze. “I’m the only man who knows what this pretty face of yours looks like when you come, remember? I know the way your body trembles when I touch you. What your cunt tastes like.” My lips graze her ear. “No one else will ever fucking know you like I do. I’ll make sure of it.”

A sharp hitch in her breath shatters through the uneven tension as those conflicted eyes lock onto mine. Soft, plump, rosy lips hover close, daring me to take what’s already mine.

I crash my mouth against hers—a rough, desperate kiss that’s as unapologetic as my obsession, as relentless as the fire burning through my veins.

My hands grip her like she’s the only thing keeping me grounded, and I pour everything into the kiss—my frustration, my need, my goddamn fixation on this woman.

Her hands push against my chest for a moment, then curl into my shirt, pulling me closer, and I groan into her mouth, loving the way she loses the fight to whatever the fuck this is between us.

She’s got my blood pounding like a goddamn war drum, the brutal clash of jealousy and obsession fueling a storm I don’t even want to control. I want to let it tear through everything, rip the world apart piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but her—bound to me, completely and utterly mine, in every way that fucking matters.

Her lips part, and I can tell she’s about to push back, throw up one of those walls she loves so much. But not this time, little troublemaker.

I grip the back of her neck, drawing her close, our mouths a collision of teeth and tongues, a brutal claim. She needs to understand, deep in her bones, that there’s no one else for her but me.

Not Paladino. Not anyone.

I don’t care how long they’ve known each other or how many late-night conversations they’ve had. I don’t care if he’s been her so-called savior, her friend, or her arranged fucking husband-to-be.

None of it matters.

Not his promises, not his protection, and sure as hell not his loyalty. Whatever history they share, whatever bond they think they have—it ends now.

Paladino can go fuck himself.

Their friendship? It means jack shit.

I’m the one who knows her every breath, every fucking sound she makes when she’s on the edge, and I’m the only man who will ever push her over it. No one else will ever touch her like I do, make her lose herself the way I can. I’m in her blood, her soul, whether she admits it or not.

She gasps into the kiss, and I take full advantage, sliding my tongue against hers, claiming her the way I’ve been dying to since the second Paladino walked into my place of business.

My café.

My fucking woman.

Her body softens, yielding to me, but I don’t ease up. This isn’t about comfort—it’s about possession. About embedding myself so deep in her flesh, her bones, her soul, she’ll never be able to scrub me out.

I walk her backward until her thighs hit the desk, and with a firm push, I lift her onto it.

The soft thud of her body against the wood ignites something primal, the air between us electric, and the tension so thick it feels like a living thing pressing down on my chest.

With everything in me, I want to fuck this woman right here, right now. I want to penetrate this sweet body of hers and rock her into oblivion, fuck her until she screams, until everything she’s ever known is erased and all that’s left is me.

Just. Fucking. Me.

“Beg me to fuck you,” I bite out, my cock straining, balls pulled tight. “Beg me to make your pussy mine.”

“No,” she whimpers, and something red-hot rushes through my veins, burning through my control. “Not today.”

“Fuck!” I jerk her thighs apart, rough, spreading them, and she gasps. And while her lips form the perfect fucking O for me, I sweep my tongue through her mouth, deep and desperate, needing her taste to sink all the way into my fucking soul.

“You think Paladino knows you?” I hook my fingers under the edge of her panties. “Think he can ever make you feel like this?”

I rip the lace down her legs and toss it aside, watching as her chest rises and falls in rapid succession.

“You’re mine, Everly,” I grunt, and she moans as I shove a finger into her soaked cunt. “He has no fucking right to look at you the way he did. And if he does it again, I’ll cut out his liver and feed it to the crows.”

“Isaia…”

“I’m going to eat you out,” I growl, gripping her thigh and bending her knee, placing her foot on the desk to spread her wide. “And you’re going to look at me while I bury my face in your pussy, so you know exactly who you belong to.”

I drop to my knees, and the second my tongue drags over her slick cunt, she gasps, her head falling back.

“Eyes,” I bite out, my hands tightening on her thighs. “On me.”

She forces her gaze down, her pupils blown wide, and fuck if that doesn’t light a fire in my motherfucking balls.

I hold her there with my stare, my tongue gliding over her clit in slow circles, each movement meant to make her squirm. I vary the pressure, teasing her with featherlight strokes before pressing firmer, dragging out every shaky breath and quiet moan.

Then I switch, licking the sensitive bundle of nerves with quick, sharp motions before returning to those maddeningly slow circles.

I want her teetering on the edge, to drive her to the brink of madness with me.

Her body trembles, her legs trying to close, but I grip her thighs harder, keeping her open for me.

“You don’t move unless I say so. You take what I give you, and once I’m done, you’ll fucking thank me like my good little girl.”

My hands tighten on her inner thighs, my thumbs spreading her pussy open, and I lick at her entrance, then drive my tongue inside her. She gasps, her hips jerking, but my grip holds her steady.

Her hands fly to my hair, fingers tangling, pulling, and I thrust my tongue in and out, fucking her with it, my nose brushing against her clit with every movement.

God, her scent, citrus with a hint of flowers—it’s intoxicating. It cuts through everything else, grounding me right here, between her legs, where I belong, where I’ll gladly suffocate.

Every flick of my tongue is deliberate, every movement designed to break her down inch by inch. The way her body reacts—the sharp jolts of her hips, the tremble in her thighs—drives me further into this unrelenting need to claim her.

A broken moan slips past her lips, and I can’t help the grin that tugs at mine.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmur against her swollen pussy. “Let me hear you.”

“Oh, God,” she whimpers, her mouth open as she tries to breathe, her gaze glued on me, watching as I tongue-fuck her cunt, deeper, slower, then faster, curling inside her, dragging against every sensitive inch.

Her walls tighten, a perfect squeeze around every thrust of my tongue, and the way her body clenches in anticipation fuels the raging lust while her taste floods my senses—heaven and sin—my cock aching against my jeans. I want every drop of her juices, taste it on my tongue for days.

A growl vibrates from my throat to her pussy, and her grip tightens in my hair, desperate to pull me closer, deeper.

Those beautiful, plump lips part as she pants loudly, rapidly, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts as I relentlessly suck her clit and plunge my tongue into her again and again.

Her control slips, and I can feel it—the shift, the way her body starts to shudder, her legs shaking as those soft, supple thighs pull taut beneath my grip.

The tension winds through her, tight and relentless, and I revel in how she’s falling apart under my control. Every tremor, every quiver is mine. She’s holding on by a thread, and I’m the one pulling it, determined to watch her come undone.

“That’s my good girl,” I praise, my tongue working her into a frenzy. “Come, baby girl. Give me everything.”

I nip at her clit, then soothe the sting with my tongue, and her hips jerk. “Isaia,” she breathes, my name a plea, a curse, a prayer. “I’m going to come.”

“Say it again.” I glance up, my chin slick. “Say my fucking name.”

“Isaia. Please.”

Her control slips further, and it’s exactly what I want.

I thrust two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and she cries out, her back arching as she throws her head back. My tongue works in tandem, relentless, driving her closer to the edge.

“You feel that?” I growl against her wet cunt. “That’s me, Everly. No one else gets to know you like this. You understand? No one. Say it.”

“No one,” she breathes out, and her body tenses, her thighs trembling as I push her closer and closer to the brink. I can feel her walls tightening around my fingers, the way her breath hitches, her moans growing louder, more desperate.

She’s close, her hips grinding against my mouth, chasing the release she knows I control. I suck her clit into my mouth, my teeth grazing just enough to draw a sharp cry from her lips, her body bowstring tight.

“Look at me when you come. Fucking look at me.”

Her eyes snap to mine, the connection searing, and it’s like the whole world narrows to this—her, me, and the storm raging between us as I pump my fingers harder, my tongue working her clit until she shatters around me, her cries raw and broken.

I don’t let up. I drive her through the waves, her body convulsing, her nails digging into my scalp until she’s nothing but a trembling mess, her release gushing over my tongue.

When she finally collapses back on the desk, her breath coming in shallow gasps, I bite her sensitive clit—not hard, just enough to make her entire body jerk, then rise to my feet, towering over her as I lick my lips and wipe her juices off my face.

She’s shaking, her skin flushed, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her face.

She’s never been more beautiful.

The sight of her like this—wrecked, undone, entirely at my mercy—solidifies the truth I’ve known since the moment I first touched her.

She’s mine. The marks of my possession are all over her. The way her thighs tremble, the slight redness where my hands gripped her too tight, the dazed, almost pleading look in her eyes as they flutter open to meet mine.

No one else will ever see her like this.

No one else will ever reduce her to this beautifully vulnerable state.

I own her.

Every shift of her body, every tremble, is a goddamn symphony I’ve memorized. She’s woven into me, and it’s too late to pull her out without breaking both of us.

Watching her now, completely spent, I feel like a king surveying his conquered kingdom.

Her breathing evens slightly, her lips parting as if she wants to speak, but no words come. She looks at me, and in that gaze, I see everything—submission, defiance, confusion, and something deeper, something she’s too scared to admit out loud.

I brush my thumb over her swollen pussy lips, and a shiver runs through her, a reminder of how sensitive she is, how every nerve in her body is still tuned to me.

“You feel that?” I rasp. “That’s what it’s like when you’re with me. That’s what only I can give you.”

Her eyes drop for a second as if she’s trying to collect herself, trying to rebuild the walls I’ve torn down. But I won’t let her.

I lean in, placing a hand on either side of her, caging her in once more.

“I’m going to fuck you, Everly. Soon. Because you’re mine, and you know it.” My lips brush against the shell of her ear. “Every moan, every gasp, every fucking breath—you give it to me. No one else gets that. Not Paladino. No one.”

She doesn’t respond, but her silence speaks louder than any words could. Her body, her mind, her very soul—they belong to me, and I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take them away.

The room is thick with the aftermath of what we’ve done, the tension between us simmering beneath the surface. I straighten, letting my gaze roam over her one last time, memorizing every detail of her in this moment. Because this is what control looks like. What ownership feels like. And I’ll be damned if I ever let it slip through my fingers.

“No one else,” I murmur a dark promise. “Do you understand me? Just me. And if it means I have to drive a knife through your friend’s heart, I’ll do it with a goddamn smile.”