Our lips met hesitantly for a heartbeat, then fiercely, desperately.
It tasted like danger and devotion, like every warning she ignored, but she pushed me back against the desk, our breathing uneven.
"I hate that I want you," she whispers against my lips.
I gave a faint and dangerous smile. "Then want me anyway."
Her reply is a broken whisper. "You'll destroy me."
My hand slid into her hair, and my voice was low and final. "Not if I can help it."
Our mouths were still tangled when it happened, a sharp, violent knock that sliced through the silence. Isabella flinched, and her breath caught, but I cursed under my breath, pulling away just as the door swung open.
Roman storms in. His face was pale, and his chest was heavy. "We have a problem."
My voice dropped to a cold and clipped sound. "Talk."
He didn't hesitate. "Marco's moving fast. He's trying to bring the Italians into Manhattan. Offering them territory–" his eyes flick to Isabella, then back to me. "–and her."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
Roman exhaled hard. "He's offering you as leverage, Isabella. To Antonio Caruso."
I froze. "He's out of his mind."
Roman's tone darkened. "Caruso's been wanting a reason to step into our turf. Marco just handed him one. If we don't move first, this city will burn before morning."
Isabella stepped forward, shaking. "Why me? Why the Italians? What do they even want from me?"
Roman hesitated, glancing at me before saying it. "Antonio Caruso has taken a liking to you, and he wants you."
She blinked, disbelief twisting her voice. "He wants me?"
Roman nodded once. "And the Italians want the Lobanovs gone. You're their ticket in."
The room felt smaller, the air too thick to breathe. My jaw tightened. "Over my dead body."
Roman looked at me like he was waiting for the explosion. "Then you'd better make sure it's theirs first. Marco's building alliances. They're planning to move before the week's out."
I stepped closer to him, speaking in a low voice. "Find every man still loyal, every contact in Little Italy. I want names, addresses, and routes. If anyone whispers Caruso's name, I want them silenced."
He nodded sharply. "Already on it."
Behind me, Isabella whispers, "They'll come for me."
I turned with my eyes locked on hers. "They can try."
Her voice trembled. "You can't protect me from everyone, Mikhail."
I took a step closer. "Watch me."
Roman ran a hand through his hair. "This isn't just about you anymore, boss. Marco's giving the Italians a reason to declare war. We're standing on the edge of it."
"I don't care," I said. "He made it personal the moment he said her name."
Roman exhaled in frustration. "You can't let anger run this, Mikhail. Think strategy. We strike smart, not loud."
I glared at him, but he was right. My pulse felt like a storm under my skin. I dragged a hand through my hair, pacing once before stopping by the window.
