Page 83 of The Beast's Broken Beauty

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm in the middle of their makeshift dance floor. Elena's balanced on my feet, her giggles vibrating through me as we move. Isabella's hand finds mine, and it's like a jolt of electricity straight to my core. The scent ofher perfume hits me, and I have to resist the urge to pull her closer.

For a few minutes, we're just... us. No mob shit, no danger lurking around every corner, no impending separation hanging over our heads. Just me, my kid, and the woman who's got me tied up in knots. Elena's laughter rings out, sweeter than any symphony I've ever heard.

As the song winds down, I catch Isabella's eye over Elena's head. There is warmth there. Warmth and is that happiness? This is what I'm fighting tooth and nail for. What I'm fucking terrified of losing.

"Time for bed, principessa," I tell Elena, planting a kiss on her forehead. My voice is rougher than I intended, thick with emotions I can't even begin to name.

As Isabella tucks Elena in, I'm struck by how natural this feels, how right. And how fucking scared I am of it all slipping away.

Once Elena's asleep, Isabella steps closer, and for a moment I think she might kiss me. Instead, she squeezes my hand. "We should go. We’re going to be late for dinner," she whispers, her breath warm on my neck.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

As we head to dinner, I reach for her hand. My fingers intertwine with hers, and it's like a fucking time machine. Suddenly I'm that idiot kid again, wanting nothing more than to hold her hand as she talked about her dreams of dancing on the biggest stages. The memory hits me like an uppercut to the throat - how fucking blind I was back then, not seeing what was right in front of me. We were meant for this, for each other. I was too stupid, too caught up in the bullshit, to realize it. But now? Now I know. And I'll be damned if I ever let go again.

This dinner's a fucking breath of fresh air compared to the last one. For a few precious hours, we're not drowning in talk of blood, revenge, and all the shit that usually weighs us down.

For once, we're sitting at the smaller table. Isabella is next to me, so close my leg brushes against hers as we chat.

Because we're shooting the breeze about movies and, of all things, interior decorating. Who'd have thought?

"I'm sorry," Naomi pipes up, "but who's decorating those mansions you all have? Do you just hire some random person and hope for the best?"

Isabella damn near chokes on her water. "I know, right?" she says, eyes dancing. "I mean, don't get me wrong, some rooms clearly haven't seen a living soul in years, but others..."

"Are you talking about your room?" I cut in, unable to help myself. "Because I orchestrated that..."

"Piano player and interior designer..." Isabella quips, and fuck me if her laugh doesn't do something to my insides.

Connor leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Speaking of hidden talents, Antonio, why don't you tell them about that time in Monaco?"

I groan, knowing exactly what he's referring to. "Really. Do we have to bring that up?"

Isabella perks up, curiosity written all over her face. "Oh, now you have to spill."

I shoot Connor a glare, but he grins wider. "Our boy here," he starts, ignoring my warning look, "managed to charm his way into the most exclusive casino in Monte Carlo by posing as a world-renowned classical pianist."

"You didn't," Naomi gasps, clearly delighted.

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "What can I say? Chopin’s Waltz in A-flat major, Op. 69, No. 1 can open a lot of doors.”

Isabella's looking at me with a hint of pride. “You do play like a magician sometimes. It’s like you only think about the music when you play.”

“Well, Chopin wrote that one to say goodbye to someone he loved. Maybe, I relate every single time I play those notes.”

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, it's like we're the only two people in the room.

Naomi clears her throat, breaking the spell. "Alright, my turn for an embarrassing story. Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally set off the fire alarm at a gala?"

As Naomi launches into her tale, I feel Isabella's hand find mine under the table. I give it a squeeze, savoring this moment of normalcy.

But the peace doesn't last long. Connor's voice cuts through the laughter, bringing us crashing back to reality.

"Speaking of rooms," he says, his tone suddenly serious, "the safe house in Athens is ready. My contact there did an additional sweep like you asked."

The mood shifts, reality crashing back in. Isabella's smile falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly. "Thank you, Connor. I appreciate that."

There's a moment of heavy silence before Connor clears his throat. "Right then. Let's enjoy this meal, shall we? God knows when we'll all be in the same room again without someone trying to kill us."

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