Page 117 of Isabella

Pushing myself up from my desk, I say, “He’ll be up here any minute. I’m going to meet him at the elevator. Head into the room next door. I’ll make sure to leave the door to my office open so you guys can hear when your services are needed.”

“Services,”Enzo laughs out before he and Matteo push themselves up to a stand. “Man, I didn’t realize I was going to have such a show tonight.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “But I’m fucking here for it.”

“We’ll be right next door,” Matteo says, giving me a nod. “Good luck.”

As I make my way to the front of my penthouse, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“In the elevator,” my dad says before hanging up abruptly.

“Great,” I mumble to myself, then shove my phone in the pocket of my slacks.

I approach the elevator and wait for it todingbefore the metal doors slide open, revealing my dad on the other side of the threshold.

“Son,” he says.

“Dad…”

68

ISABELLA

“Ugh, that looks like shit,” I mutter to myself before erasing the belt I just drew on a new bridal sketch I’ve been working on. I set my iPad down roughly, and the sound causes Liana to draw her attention up to me.

“Everything okay over there?” she asks.

I run my hands through my hair in a way that makes it seem like I’m about to pull it out in absolute frustration. “Not really,” I say before slamming my arms down on the desk in front of me. “I can’t stop thinking about what’s going on at Nicco’s apartment.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Izzy. Look,” she says, setting her stylus down next to her iPad. “You don’t have to force yourself to work. We can talk about it if you think that’ll help.”

“I’m just worried, which I know is unreasonable because what is there to worry about? He’s going to have my brothers there, and they have backup stationed outside his apartment. He seems to think this is going to be an easy thing to do, but I don’t know. I feel like things are never that easy.”

“Sometimes, they’re not, you’re right, but I have to agree. They have the numbers in this situation. They’re going to be fine. I really believe that.”

“Yeah,” I mumble while picking at my Chinese food. Why did I even pick this stuff up on my way over here? There was no way I was going to be able to eat under the circumstances.

I throw the barely touched container of cashew chicken in the to-go bag it came in and walk over to Liana’s desk. Pointing at her empty beef and broccoli container that just has remnants of rice in it now, I say, “Are you done with that? I’m going to throw this in the dumpster out back so it doesn’t smell like stale Chinese food in here.”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, throwing the carton into the bag I’m holding open for her.

As I head down the hall toward the back door, my mind drifts off to what’s happening right now at Nicco’s apartment.

Our apartment?

Our apartment.

That still sounds so weird to say, but it brings a smile to my face.

Pushing the door open, I prop it open with the door stop so I don’t get locked out.

The cold winter air is a stark contrast to the heat from inside, causing goose bumps to form along my skin.

I should’ve put my coat on.

I quickly scuttle over to the dumpster, unlock it, and throw the bag of food away, but before I’m able to lock it, the sound of gravel crunching behind me has me whipping around. My attention is drawn to a shadow that causes me to gasp.

“This couldn’t have worked out any better,” the man laughs out, and it only takes me a few seconds to realize who it is as he walks out of the dimly lit area against the wall of the building.

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