Was that Grey’s motivation for bringing my fam here? Because the Salvini sisters would be more comfortable with Mila and Nina around? Not that they were the only female operatives within the organization.
I zeroed back in on Shorty. She acted like someone who was well trained in handling social situations, reading and responding to subtle cues. She didn’t act like that when we were alone. Not at all. There was nothing of this polished façade present, not when she glared at me, not when she curled into me, searching for my body warmth, and not when she kicked me on the plane.
Grey watched it all from his position by the bar, that same unsettling smile playing at his lips.
Fuck.
Maybe I was nothing more than a dog on a leash—not knowing who held the other end of it and what their intentions were.
Did I really know Grey?
Maybe keeping an eye on the twins, preferably in isolation, would be the smarter choice to maintain control of the situation until I knew what was really going on.
Only, with my sisters already forming connections and my brothers showing clear interest, that plan might be borderline impossible to execute.
Nina said something that made Shorty burst into laughter.
And I was momentarily paralyzed.
I hadn’t witnessed her laugh before, but whatever I’d expected from the short, curvy, Italian beauty, it wasn’t thatdeep, guttural belly laugh that made me think of silk sheets and hot, steamy sex.
Grey rose from his bar stool and crossed the space, that predatory smile still in place. “Isabella, perhaps we could discuss some matters in private? You must be exhausted from your journey.”
My muscles tensed before my brain fully processed his words. The way he looked at her—like a collector eyeing a prized acquisition—made my skin crawl.
Shorty must’ve picked up on it, as well, since she positioned herself between her sister and Grey.
“Actually, sir”—I stepped forward, keeping my tone neutral but firm—“I recommend allowing both sisters time to rest and recover. The flight was quite turbulent and long.”
Grey’s eyes flickered to mine, something dangerous glinting in their depths. “Always so concerned with the welfare of our guests, Ivan. I wasn’t aware your duties extended to…caring for our guests personally.”
“Just being thorough, sir.” I met his gaze steadily while positioning myself between him and Shorty. “We wouldn’t want any complications from rushing things or creating antagonism before we even get the chance to talk.”
A tense moment passed before Grey inclined his head slightly. “Very well. Tomorrow then.” He bowed before them. “Isabella, I can’t wait to chat.” Then he turned around, but the look he gave me spoke volumes—my interference was highly unwanted, and he wouldn’t tolerate or forget it.
My chest tightened as he walked away. I’d chosen to protect her over maintaining professional distance, andthat decision would have consequences. My mission parameters had been clear—get close to Salvini and bring him into the fold, and when that didn’t happen fast enough, Grey stepped in with a new plan and ordered me to step back and let him handle the rest.
Now that the kidnapping had gone sideways, and it made him look bad, he couldn’t be too happy. Because even when he’d tasked me to deliver the sisters, I had almost heard his clenched jaw through the phone.
I should’ve just brought them here, turned around, and had the private jet fly me back to Italy. That would’ve been the smart decision.
Instead, I’d just painted a big fat target on my back, and I knew perfectly well how friendly fire was equally lethal.
Fuck. I shared a glance with Nina, who surprisingly could read me the best of all of them. She nodded in agreement.
So at least my little sister didn’t think I was a complete fuck-up.
I locked eyes with Shorty, who stared at me while holding hands with her sister. She knew they’d just dodged a bullet—thanks to my interference.
Professional distance be damned—I couldn’t leave Shorty or her sister unprotected. Because something told me I couldn’t just hand them over to Grey’s mercy. Not when I didn’t exactly know what was going on. Not when every instinct screamed that Grey’s interest in Isabella Salvini went far beyond normal operational concerns. Not when Shorty had no sense of self-preservation when it came to protecting her sister.
I watched Grey’s retreating form. I’d made my choice. Even if it meant compromising everything else.
“Let’s take a breather,” I said, and Nina immediately understood and showed the twins the way.
The guest quarters were usually in the main building—a labyrinth of connecting suites, deliberately designed to keep “guests” closely under surveillance. But that wasn’t where my sisters, with the twins in tow, were headed.
I tracked Shorty’s movements as we walked. She hung slightly back, positioning herself between her sister and me and my brothers, whom she apparently perceived as a bigger threat than my sisters.
