I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.
But that wasn’t something I’d reveal in Roman’s presence. Or anyone else’s. Anyone except Mikhail. I had allowed myself to be vulnerable with him, and he was the only exception. I had no plans of changing it. Ever.
So I decided to maintain my composure, answering Mikhail’s questions with firm affirmation and even chuckling at Roman’s remarks.
Hearing that Caruso was after me wasn’t exactly exciting news. If we were being fictional and maybe if I had been younger, I might have found the idea of two powerful men clashing over me flattering in some dark way. But I was a grown-ass woman. A married one, at that. A woman who had recently lost the only family that cared. I knew the true cost of war, and it was something I didn’t want to lose anyone else to. I knew enough about the mafia world to know that clashes likeone never ended in diplomatic handshakes; it was all blood and death and loss.
While both brothers discussed strategy, another train of thought started somewhere between my head and my mind.
Everything in me was softening towards Mikhail. And it didn’t just start; I had just been too fixated on the physical part of our relationship to acknowledge it. His moods rubbed off on me and affected mine in ways I couldn’t explain. Virtually everything about the way he treated me made me feel good from the deepest parts of me.
It wouldn’t be wrong for me to say I cared about him; a part of me had always felt that way. It was one of the things that made the thought of my plan unappealing and, sometimes, painful.
So, now that I knew he wasn't responsible for my brother’s death, the hatchet was buried. It was freeing to know that I could accept how I felt towards him without guilt, anger, or even shame.
But there was a nagging feeling of guilt that pierced my heart whenever I remembered how I had blamed him and plotted his ruin. And that was almost every time I caught his gaze since I found out the truth.
I found myself questioning my care for him on the basis of the fact that I hadn’t come clean to him.
How could I say I might be falling for him when I hadn’t told him the real reason I easily agreed to marry him?
However, the lump that formed in my throat whenever I considered telling him didn’t make it any easier. I was rarely, if ever, scared of anyone or anything. Yet, I dreaded his reaction to the truth. The possibility of him never wanting to see my two-faced self ever again in his life made me want to screw my eyes shut in fearful denial.
But delaying it doesn’t make it easier.
With the impending storm, I can’t hold it off any longer.
I’ll tell him.
So, as we bid Roman farewell, I thought of how and where my confession should take place.
“Isabella? Did you hear a word of what I just said?” Mikhail asked, his eyes glinting with amusement, which told me he knew the answer to his question.
“Sorry,” I answered, chuckling as I looked up to meet his gaze. “What did you say?”
His hands ran the length of my outer arms as he spoke. “I was saying it’s best if we lock in. The Italians are bound to come, anyway. But we’ll let them come. The Lobanov Bratva will be ready to play with them when they do.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
“I was asking what you thought about the plan,” he pointed out, an easy smile on his face.
“Oh, I support it. It’s a strong plan,” I stated.
“Alright, then.”
“And...,” I drawled. “I love how strong you are and how you’re so in charge of the whole situation. Makes it hard for me to feel scared or even unsure. And I love how you only want to protect me.”
“Baby,” he uttered, his voice deep as he brought my hands around his neck and held my waist. “When you say things like that, I almost can’t recognize the man you see. It reminds me of how lucky I am to have you.”
I was about to speak when he added, “And protecting you isn’t all I want to do.”
My eyes followed his to his left, towards the hallway leading to our bedroom.
“Right.”
He kissed my lips and pulled me close as he started peppering kisses down my neck. He lifted me, and I intertwined my feet behind him as he walked down the hallway.
The way he touched and kissed me like I was an unblemished angel made me feel guilty.
