Isaia: Chapter 25

The mezzanine offers a perfect view of the spectacle below—velvet drapes, marble floors, and a dozen glittering chandeliers reflecting off the glasses of top-shelf liquor. It’s luxury wrapped in sin, and every corner of Club Myth hums with indulgence.

There’s a naked woman swaying in a gilded cage overhead, a chain attached to a steel collar around her neck, her movements languid, designed to tantalize the crowd below.

The air thrums with low bass beats, murmured conversations, and the occasional sharp laugh of someone too drunk to keep their pleasure private.

Anthony sits near the center of it all, leaning back in one of the club’s plush leather chairs. A stripper is practically draped over him, her long legs straddling his lap, but his eyes? They’re not on her. He’s watching the stage, his sharp grin barely contained, exuding that insufferable confidence I’ve come to hate. He’s too calm, too comfortable, and it grates against every nerve I have.

This morning after Everly left with Luna, I had one of our guys follow her. I’ve got her under twenty-four-seven surveillance. No one’s going to take her away from me. Of that, I’m fucking sure.

At my side, Caelian swirls his glass of whiskey, leaning lazily against the railing. “You know, for someone you hate, you spend an awful lot of time staring at him.”

I don’t look away from Anthony. “I’m not staring.”

Caelian snorts, taking a slow sip. “Right. Just admiring his charm and good posture, huh? Or is this about Everly?”

I watch him like a hawk watches prey, noting every twitch of his top lip, every movement of his hands as he rests them on the stripper’s thighs without actually touching her. It’s a calculated move, a way to seem in control without committing. He’s playing a part.

I start rolling up my sleeves to my elbows. I hate suits, but the occasional black dress shirt and trousers is something I tolerate. It’s mostly the snug suit jackets and suffocating ties that bug the shit out of me.

“How’d you convince Alexius to let you invite the bastard?”

“I have my ways.”

“Now, see, if I were anyone else, not knowing you’re related, I’d think you’re referring to a nice, slobbering blow job.”

“Fuck off, Caelian.”

“So, let me make sure I’ve got this right,” Caelian drawls, leaning back like this whole thing is an overdone soap opera. “Rinaldi wants Everly to tie the knot with Paladino, but she’s not having it—big surprise. And Paladino won’t go through with it unless she’s all ‘I do’ and starry-eyed.”

“Yes.”

“What a pussy,” he scoffs.

“Just don’t tell Alexius.”

“Goddammit,” he whines. “I knew it. There is no way Alexius would have let you invite the prick if he knew Everly’s supposed to marry the bastard.”

Caelian’s right—which is exactly why I decided not to tell Alexius everything. If he knew about the deal between the Rinaldi and Paladino families, he’d tell me to back off. Doesn’t matter if Everly and Anthony refuse to marry under forced circumstances, the only thing Alexius will concern himself with is keeping the Dark Sovereign out of Rinaldi-Paladino business.

I get it. I do. They are two of the most powerful and influential families in New York. No one wants to fuck with any one of them, not to mention two.

But I’m not no one, and I don’t care whose business I fuck with and who I piss off. Not when it comes to her.

“Wait a minute.” Caelian frowns. “So, when you said ‘I have my ways,’ you meant lying.”

I shrug. “It’s not lying. I just chose not to tell him everything. There’s a difference.”

“You sly fucker.” He slaps me on my shoulder. “I’m so fucking proud of you right now. You finally got your balls. Next comes the hard part. Puberty.”

I glare at him. “I will cut you.”

Caelian’s cheeky grin is that of a seven-year-old fucking child, so I make a conscious decision to be the adult in this conversation by focusing my attention elsewhere. On my guest.

Anthony takes a sip of the scotch he ordered—it’s the most expensive brand in the club, and I grit my teeth at how effortlessly he splurges, like he’s here on his own terms and not by invitation.

“I don’t trust him,” I grit out.

“Of course you don’t. He has permission to fuck your girl since they’re practically walking down the aisle already.”

“Caelian, I swear to God I will lock you in my yellow car and make you sit there for hours.”

My brother gasps, clutching his chest like I’ve mortally wounded him. “You wouldn’t, you fucking maniac. I always knew you were capable of cruel and unusual punishment, but that? That’s twisted shit, you fucking psycho.”

I don’t respond, and we both stare down at Anthony in silence for a full five minutes before Caelian finally blurts, “Maybe he’s not scared of you.”

“He should be.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re terrifying.” He grins, teeth flashing in the low light. “But let me ask you this. Is he the problem? Or is it the fact that Everly doesn’t exactly slam the door in his face?”

My jaw tightens as I glance down again. The stripper leans in, whispering something in Anthony’s ear, and he laughs—easy, light, as if nothing about this situation bothers him. It’s deliberate. Everything he does is calculated. And every second he’s here feels like a challenge.

“Shall I send her away?” The question comes from my right, a woman dressed in barely-there black lace, her red lips curling as she watches me watch him. She nods toward the stripper in Anthony’s lap. “Or maybe she’s serving a purpose?”

“No,” I say and hand her my empty glass. “Let him play. For now.”

She saunters off, and I keep my gaze locked on my target. “I invited him for a reason,” I say.

“Ah.” Caelian downs his drink. “The old ‘bring your enemy closer so you can glare at him more efficiently’ move. Genius.”

“I wanted to see how he’d act. See what he’s really after.”

“And?” Caelian leans in, genuinely curious now. “What’s the verdict, Sherlock?”

“He’s playing the long game,” I mutter. “And I don’t like it.”

Below, Anthony finally looks up, his eyes locking on mine like he’s been waiting for me to notice. He tips his glass in a silent toast, and Caelian snorts.

“You know what’s funny?” he says. “He’s probably thinking the exact same thing about you.”

“Stay here.” I step away from the railing.

“Where are you going?” Caelian calls after me. “Gonna give him a Club Myth welcome gift? Maybe a fruit basket?”

I don’t respond. My shoes hit the marble stairs with purpose, my stride unyielding as I make my way down to where Anthony sits. The stripper, sensing the shift in energy, slides off his lap, giving me a wary glance before disappearing into the crowd.

Anthony doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. He leans back in his chair, his drink resting in one hand, watching me approach like I’m the entertainment for the evening.

“Isaia,” Anthony says smoothly, lifting his glass as if we’re old friends sharing a drink. “Hell of a place you’ve got here.”

“Didn’t think you’d accept my invitation.”

“Are you kidding?” He gestures around the room. “This is Club Myth. People kill to get in here. And me? I get a personal invite from the Dark Sovereign. How could I say no?”

Smug motherfucker.

I don’t sit—not yet—watching him, trying to decide if I want to tear out his throat first or break every bone in his hands so he can’t touch her. “You’re not here for the ambiance, so let’s cut the shit.” I lower my voice, sharp and venomous. “You can’t have her.”

Anthony raises a brow. “You say that like she’s a trophy, Isaia. And I don’t think I like that.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you like. Just stay the hell away from my girl.”

“Your girl?” He slants a brow, and I want to beat that look off his face. “Strange. I don’t see your name anywhere on her.”

There’s an idea. Tattoo my name on her skin. That’s something I need to make happen A.S.A fucking P.

His smirk deepens, every inch of him oozing condescension. “She’s not yours, Isaia. You know as well as I do that the only thing that makes a woman off-limits is a ring on her finger. Right now, Everly has none.”

I’m on him in an instant, my hands slamming onto the table, the wood groaning under the force. His smirk falters, just for a moment, and it’s the most satisfying thing I’ve seen all fucking day. “Touch her, and I’ll rip you apart.”

“Careful, Del Rossa. You’re toeing a line you don’t want to step over.”

“Try me.”

Anthony leans back, his glass cradled casually in his hand. “I’m not the enemy here. She’s my friend.”

“You expect me to believe you have no interest in a Paladino-Rinaldi alliance?”

Anthony shrugs. “I won’t deny that the alliance comes with perks—powerful ones. But despite what you think you know about me, about my relationship with Everly, she means more to me than any alliance ever could.”

“Whatever the fuck this is between you, this so-called friendship—whatever—it ends today.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. I’ll be in her life for however long she wants me to be.”

“I don’t share.”

“Funny.” He slants his head. “That’s not what I heard.”

I lean forward, my knuckles pressing into the table, crowding his space. “She will never marry you.”

“Not unless she wants to. She knows that. But you need to accept the fact that she’ll always need me.”

It takes all my self-control not to beat his face to a pulp. I can already taste it, the rage, the blood, the frenzied fury. I’d fucking do it with a smile on my face, tear his heart from his body through his throat. But I remain calm even though my blood rages, and I take a seat across from him.

“You can’t protect her like I can,” I say simply.

He lets out a mocking laugh. “I assure you, Del Rossa, I am more than capable. I’ve kept her safe for years before you came into the picture.”

“Then I suppose you have no idea about Rinaldi trying to have her kidnapped?” Something flashes in his eyes as he stares at me. “Twice.”

“What the fuck you talking about?”

I scoff. “You’re really going to sit there and pretend you don’t know.”

Anthony’s grip on the glass tightens until it looks like it might shatter. His jaw clenches. “You’re lying.”

“Believe whatever helps you sleep at night. But know this,” I pin him with my gaze, “I’ll protect that woman with a ferocity you can’t even fucking fathom. I’ll burn cities to the ground for her. Carve out the spines of motherfuckers like you and lay them at her feet.”

“And that right there,” he states. “That’s exactly why you’ll lose her. You’re impulsive, reckless, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Everly wants and needs the one thing she’s never had in her life, the one thing you can’t give her.”

I glare at him.

“Stability.” He exhales the word like it’s a bitter truth. “Her dad cheated on her mom. When the dust settled and it was just her and her mom, her mom married Michele. Obviously, that didn’t go well, since she despises the man. So Everly left to live with her dad—until he died. And then she was sent right back to Rinaldi.”

He flicks his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating the hard set of his jaw as he lights a cigarette. Smoke curls lazily from his lips as he continues.

“The first chance she got, she left. She’s been drifting ever since. Says she hates the idea of settling down, but it’s not that. She’s terrified of finding stability and then losing it all over again. That’s what keeps her running. Of course,” he takes a long drag then exhales, “if you knew her at all, you’d know this.”

There’s a smug look on his ugly motherfucking face—as if he’s laid out the last hand in a poker game and already knows he’s won. But my stone-like glare remains steadfast.

“Congratulations,” I mock. “You’ve regurgitated Everly’s life story. You think you have some claim over her because she’s shed some tears on your shoulder? You’ve been friend-zoned, motherfucker, clinging to every scrap you can get of her.” I lean closer, my glare burning through his goddamn forehead. “You’re nothing but a footnote in her story. So do yourself a favor, Paladino. Back the fuck off while you still have some dignity left.”

I let the words hang, watching him closely, gauging his reaction.

His eyes narrow as he takes another drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke in like it’s the only thing keeping him from lashing out, then lets the smoke crawl past his lips in tendrils.

“You want to play this game, Isaia? Fine. But don’t pretend you’re the only one willing to burn for her. Yes, I made her a promise, one I intend to keep. But let me make it abundantly clear.” He pauses for dramatic effect, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “If the day comes when she decides she wants me as a husband, I will marry her in a fucking heartbeat. And not you, or anyone, will be able to stop me.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” I sneer. “If you so much as breathe in her direction, I will come for you and everyone you care about.”

“You don’t scare me, Del Rossa,” he grits. “I will destroy you for her.”

And there it is. The declaration of love. The signature that just signed his death warrant.

He stands, and so do I, then I move in close so I’m all up in his ugly motherfucking face. “You’re not the one she’ll choose.”

“We’ll see, won’t we? Because unlike you, Isaia, I’m not trying to own her. I’m trying to be what she needs.”

The words rattle in my skull like a slap, reverberating with a bitterness I can’t shake. But he doesn’t understand. He couldn’t. He doesn’t know what it means to crave someone so entirely that they become a part of you, that their very existence feels like it’s stitched into your fucking soul. He talks about needs and friendship like those things even come close to what I feel for her.

Ownership isn’t the word. That’s too shallow, too hollow to capture this.

It’s not possession—it’s devotion. A devotion so absolute, it burns. A need so consuming, it eclipses every other thought, every other ambition, until she’s all that matters. And I’ll prove it, one way or another. Not to him, and not to anyone else—just to her. Because she’s the only one who matters.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he says, dropping a few hundred-dollar bills on the table. “I need to go find out what the fuck Rinaldi is up to.”

“Let’s pretend for a minute that I do believe you—which I don’t. Then why is Rinaldi so hell-bent to drag her ass back to New York if it’s not to marry you?”

“I don’t know.” He straightens his suit jacket. “But I can assure you, I’m going to find out.”

I don’t watch him go. Instead, I let my eyes wander back to the mezzanine where Caelian is leaning against the railing, his whiskey glass dangling from his fingers, watching the scene unfold like it’s his favorite drama.

“Did you two boys have fun playing who has the bigger dick?” Caelian quips as I make my way back up the marble steps.

I shoot him a sharp glare. “You enjoying yourself, or are you just here to be a pain in my ass?”

“Both, obviously.” He takes a lazy sip of his drink, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Though I’ve gotta say, watching you puff up like an overprotective peacock is quickly becoming the highlight of my evening.”

I stop next to him, planting my hands on the railing as I look out over the club.

“Let me guess. He’s in love with her, too.”

I grind my teeth, but I don’t reply.

“Jesus, Isaia.” He whistles low, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see the day, you being all pussy-whipped. You want my advice?”

“No.”

“Good. Because I’m giving it anyway.” He downs the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass on the railing. “You can mark your territory all you want, but if you don’t get out of your own head, someone else is going to walk off with her.”

My glare sharpens. “There’s a lot of hearts I’ll rip out before I let that happen.”

“Yeah, yeah. Big, bad Isaia, leaving a trail of bodies for love.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Just make sure you don’t end up one of them.”

“I’m out.” I grab my car keys from my pants pocket, tossing them in the air and catching them with a snap.

Caelian doesn’t even look up. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“None of your business.” I stop at the doorway and turn. “Oh, and you know that fundraiser Alexius is forcing on us?”

“You mean the slow, torturous death masquerading as a charity event?” He finally glances up, his expression already bored.

“That’s the one. Tell him I’m bringing a plus-one.”

That gets his attention. “You’re bringing the girl?”

I nod, my smirk widening.

He groans, loud and dramatic. “You know he’s not gonna like that.”

“I do,” I reply, spreading my arms wide with mock enthusiasm. “His disapproving glare can be the highlight of the night.”

“Christ, Isaia.” Caelian shakes his head but doesn’t bother stopping me. “You live to be a fucking pain in the ass.”

I wink, spinning my keys once more before heading out. “And don’t you forget it.”