She scanned our surroundings before adding, “Or is this your personal re-enactment of prison break?”
Jemma Donnelly barely hid a gasp, but my attention stayed on the Salvini twin. The way she positioned herself—slightly forward, protective—spoke of an awareness and training.
She was ready and prepared to fight my access to her laptop.
I took a step closer, testing her reaction. She didn’t yield an inch but instead lifted her chin in subtle defiance.
“To be honest,” she continued, “if I were in your shoes, I would make a run for it. My brother’s not known for his good manners or for giving second chances.”
I chuckled, genuine despite myself. “Indeed, he’s not.” I moved closer still, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. “However, I find the company far too intriguing to just run.” I let my gaze drift between them. “What brings you two lovely ladies out to such a secluded spot? Sharing secrets?”
A flush crept up the Irish mob princess’s neck, but the Salvini girl didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you know how it is,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Wedding preparations can get a bit overwhelming. We needed a breather.”
I stepped closer, invading her space deliberately. The air between us was charged with tension. She stood her ground, and I caught another glimpse of that steel beneath her silk façade. “Is that so?” My voice dropped lower. “And does wedding planning typically involve such intense focus on a computer screen?”
“We were looking at dress options.” The lie rolled off her tongue, smooth as silk. She shut the laptop behind her, then handed it to Jemma, who pressed it against her body as if I was about to rip it out of her hands.
I took a closer look and caught sight of a sticker on the laptop’s lid—the Egyptian goddess Isis. A jolt of…something…shot through me, some snippet lodged somewhere in my memory, some detail I couldn’t get a grasp on. As if I found a key but had no idea which lock it would fit. My pulse quickened, and I tensed.Why does this feel significant? Have I seen this before? Why did I even know it was a depiction of Isis, when I knew next to nothing about Egyptian history?
The sensation was maddening. Something about that sticker, about the Salvini girl herself, triggered all kinds ofthings in my mind. My instincts screamed that this was important, even if I couldn’t piece together why.
Whatever. Time to put it aside. If everything went to plan—and I was good enough to ensure it would, I would have more time to find out anyway.
“The devil’s in the details. And we can’t have the bride wearing just anything, can we?” she said, with a sassiness in her voice.
My lips curled into a smirk as I dragged my gaze from the laptop—that damned Isis sticker still tugging at my memory—back to her. We were close enough now that I could see the flecks of gold in her dark brown eyes, the way her pulse fluttered at her throat.
Not so cool and unfazed after all.
“Of course not.” I leaned in slightly, pitching my voice for her ears alone. “Though, I must say, I’m surprised to see you so involved in the planning, Isabella?”
I caught her tensing, her jaw tight for a moment before she forced it to relax.
It had been a shot in the dark since I had no idea if she actually was Isabella, but I guessed right.
And there was something about saying her name that felt significant though I couldn’t grasp why. “I wasn’t aware you and your soon-to-be sister-in-law were so…close.”
She shifted almost imperceptibly, blocking me. But our eyes stayed locked in silent challenge. “Family is everything, Mr. Zotov.” Her voice was honey-sweet, but her eyes flashed a warning. “Surely you understand that?”
I moved closer still, using my height to my advantage. Nothing beat a little intimidation to keep the enemy on her toes. Though it wasn’t difficult to tower over her. She was one sweet little package. With curves in all the right places.
Maybe coming this close was a mistake.
For a split second, the tip of her tongue brushed over the lush curve of her lower lip and arrested my gaze before I forced it away and back to meet her eyes.
She tilted her head back and maintained eye contact. The perfect seductress.
Tension crackled between us like lightning before a storm.
And what a storm this would be.
Her lashes fluttered, like the wings of a butterfly, before she straightened, and her eyes changed right before my eyes. She narrowed her brows and glared at me, refusing to be intimidated.
There it was, the intelligence and sharp wit she was hiding beneath that seductress persona.
“Family,” I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. “Is that what we’re calling it? Because from where I’m standing, princess, you seem to be playing a much more…interesting game.”
Her eyes narrowed fractionally. “And what game would that be, Mr. Zotov?” She matched my tone, quiet and dangerous.
