“Don’t—” Dante starts.
“Shut up.” Her voice is ice. Cold, steady, lethal. “Don’t touch me again.”
Her finger tightens on the trigger.
For the first time since I saw her unconscious and bleeding, she’s not the one shaking.
Dante is.
“Izzy,” I say, cautiously, slowing my pace as if approaching a wounded animal, my hands spread placatingly.
She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t react at all. Her gaze is locked on Dante. It’s then that I realize how unfocused they are. She’s not seeing Dante. She’s seeinghim.
Knowing this could go badly very quickly, I keep my steady but slow pace until I’m next to them.
“Izzy,” I repeat, holding out my hand. “Give me the gun.”
Her eyes lift to mine and she sucks in a breath.
“He’s not here,Cuore mio.You’re safe.” I plead with her to believe me. “I’m here.”
Finally, her body deflates, and she sags against me, the gun loosening in her hand enough for me to grab it and pull it away from her. I pass it back to Dante, who looks like his life just flashed before his eyes.
A sob bursts out of Izzy, and I lift her into my arms, one hand on her back, the other under her thighs. She buries her face in my neck as she trembles.
Not wanting to attract more attention, I carry her back to my office, sitting us both onto the sofa so she’s straddling my lap.
After what feels like hours, she finally quiets, her breath turning even.
She’s asleep.
My hand strokes over her hair as I try to make sense of what just happened.
I’m not sure she was even aware of what she was doing. But that just leaves me with more questions.What spooked her?
The lock clicking has my hand resting on my gun. But of course, it’s only Dante. He’s the only one with access.
He takes in Izzy sleeping on my chest and appears to relax,leaning against the door behind him.
“Gio left, but he said he’ll be in touch.”
Goddamn. I forgot he was even here.
“Thank you.”
“What the hell happened?” Dante asks, keeping his voice low.
“That’s what I want to know. She was fine when I left her.”
He shakes his head. “How the fuck did a woman so small manage to disarm me so easily?”
“I think there’s a lot we don’t know about her.”
“Who even is she to you?”
I look down at Izzy in my arms, watching her shoulders rise and fall with each breath. “The love of my life.”
Izzy doesn’t wake up on the journey home, or as I carry her to my room. I should take her to the spare room, but I can’t bear to be away from her. Instead, I place her under the covers, strip down to my boxers, then crawl in beside her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
