Page 10 of Isabella

I let out a sigh. “Yes. I was doing it to?—”

“Protect my daughter,” she murmurs, her gaze teetering between the two of us.

“Yes,” I say. “I couldn’t put her life in danger. My dad—he’s not exactly the best man in the world.” I lean forward, hovering over the edge of the table, and lower my voice. “He would’ve seen her as a distraction—a weakness—and he would’ve taken her away from me.”

Cece’s right eyebrow twitches. The movement is so subtle anyone would’ve missed it, but not me. I’ve been trained to read people, to catch even the smallest movements. Most of us in our world have to be, and even though Isabella’s mom tries to remain calm and passive, she’s starting to understand why we kept it a secret for this long.

“So if your father is as terrible as you say he is, you’ve been putting my daughter in danger for this relationship?” she says, causing my stomach to hollow out. I’ve always known this is what I’ve been doing, but when Cece says it out loud, it makes me feel like a selfish fucking prick.

I regretfully give her a nod.

I knew what I was doing when I fell for Isabella, but I was in way too deep to end things with her. That was never an option.

“Let me ask you both something,” she says.

Isabella and I are silent as we wait for Cece to speak. She slides her gaze between the two of us and says, “Do you love each other?”

Our answers are immediate. “Absolutely,” Isabella says at the same time as I say, “With everything I have.”

A small smile breaks out on Cece’s face, which has me letting out a relieved sigh. “I can see it in the way you look at each other,” she says. “How my daughter ran into your arms when she saw you, and how neither of you wanted to let the other go.”

“He’s my everything, Mom,” Isabella says, and then turns to look at me. “Now that I have him, I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“Finding lovebeforemarriage isn’t very common in our world,” Cece says. “You know your father and I weren’t in love when we got married.” A smile forms on her face as if she’s thinking of a happy memory. “But we fell in love. I know that doesn’t always happen, and I thank God every day that I was one of the lucky ones.”

Isabella glances at me over her shoulder and smiles.

“I won’t stand in the way of my daughter finding true happiness,” Cece says. “But if your father isn’t as accepting of you choosing your own bride as you say he is, how do you expect to ever be together?”

I glance at Isabella before settling my gaze back on Cece. Taking a deep breath, I say, “I’m not sure yet, but I’m going to figure it out because a life without Isabella is out of the question. I just need a little more time.” I lower my voice because the next thing I’m about to say is more than I should be allowed to ask, but when it comes to Isabella, there isn’t anything I won’t do. “But until I have a plan, I can’t have anyone else knowing about Isabella and I.” I pause, looking deep into her eyes to make sure she understands what I’m saying.“Anyone.”

Cece holds my gaze across the table for a few moments before finally giving me a small nod, and just like that, there’s the hope I’ve been searching for through all this. Because with Cece on board with our relationship, Isabella and I just might make it in the end.

9

ISABELLA

PRESENT DAY

Isabella, 24 years old

Niccolò, 27 years old

Today’s my twenty-fourth birthday.

A day to celebrate.

Yet, here I am, staring out the window. Trying to get my terrible birthday dinner disruption out of my head while also avoiding my sister-in-law Lux’s gaze because I know exactly what’s going through that mind of hers. I saw the unspoken question written on her face as she watched me from across our ruined five-course meal not too long ago.

Every year for my birthday, my family and I celebrate by going to Cartelli’s, one of my favorite Italian restaurants. It’s a tradition my parents started when I was still in diapers, and when they were killed nearly three years ago by a rival don, Giuseppe Silvestri, my older brothers, Teo and Enzo, continued with the tradition.

This is my third birthday without my parents, and no matter how hard my brothers try to continue this tradition, it doesn’t get rid of the hole that burned its way through my heart when my parents were taken away from us.

I thought I was doing better.

Iwasdoing better.

But when my birthday celebration was ruined by the person who broke my family, threatening to come after us if we don’t give him access to our ports for trafficking, how can I not sit here and spiral, letting the past seep into my mind and cloud my special day like a dark storm?

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