Page 73 of Stolen By the Don

I slowly peel my hand away, the gun lowering with it as disbelief knots in my chest. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper, more to myself than her.

“Roman?” Her eyes are wide like saucers. “Roman?”

I groan, rolling off her and stashing the gun again. I get out of bed, flicking the light switch and flooding the room. She’s in the middle of my bed, wearing the skimpiest dress known to man. Her hair is tousled, and her skin is flushed.

She scurries into a sitting position as the shock wears off, but it only makes the dress hitch higher, showing off her thighs and a peek of her panties.

God.One minute ago, I thought I was going to make an example out of someone, and now I’m thinking about sex.

“What are you doing here?” Isabella demands, folding her arms. “Why are you in my bedroom?”

A short, dry laugh slips past my lips as I shake my head. “What am I doing here?Yourbedroom?”

She nods. “Yes. My—” Her gaze sweeps across the room, probably to ascertain dominance, and I watch her expression falter when she realizes she’s in the wrong. “This is your bedroom.”

I nod. “Yeah. It is.”

“Oh shit. Oh shit.” As she tries to scramble off the bed, her foot snags the covers, and she ends up toppling to the floor and dragging the covers with her. Sheets. Isabella. On the floor. I shake my head, sighing in disbelief as I walk over to assess her situation.

She’s crumpled by the side of the bed, half buried. “I’m sorry,” she mutters, lowering her gaze. “I’m going to get up and allow you to go back to sleep.”

Crouching, I wait in silence until she lifts her head, meeting her gaze with a sterner version of mine. “How drunk are you, Isabella?”

Guilt flashes in her eyes, with a nervous lip bite before she shakes her head vehemently. “I’m not drunk. Why would I be drunk?”

I’m not sure which I find more endearing, her ability to lie when shereeksof alcohol or the fact that she’s lying tomyface.

“You went out with Leo, didn’t you?”

Her lips press into a tight, bitter line. “How did you know?” she snaps. “Did you have him spy on me? Of course you did.” She scoffs, arms crossing tightly over her chest. “That’s whyhe’s been hovering. That’s why he returned today after you both vanished like ghosts. You’ve been spying on me.”

“If you’re trying to change the subject, printsessa,” I murmur, the word slipping out as I lean close enough to feel her breath on my face, “it’s not working. I don’t need to spy to know what you’ve been up to. You reek of alcohol.”

And she looks like a vivid picture—flushed cheeks, tousled hair, legs for days. She might be a hot, angry mess, but I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t want to back her against the wall and kiss the venom off her tongue.

At least now I know she didn’t spend the night in another man’s arms. That knowledge alone settles something inside me. Something I didn’t even realize was clawing at me.

She lifts a part of her dress to her nose and gags. “Ugh.”

“See?” I gesture, a dry smile tugging at my lips.

Isabella shrugs, eyes meeting mine with a fire that’s anything but apologetic. “That’s what happens when you have fun,” she spits out. “I had fun. Sue me.”

That’s the story we’re telling now?

She uses the bed to lift herself off the floor, wobbling slightly before catching herself and straightening with that same stubborn fire.

Her hands thrust onto her hips, and her chin lifts in challenge. “You’ve been gone for weeks, Roman. No calls, no texts. Just disappeared, forgetting that you have a captive wife. Forgive me for thinking I deserved one night to pretend I still have a life that doesn’t revolve around my husband.”

“I’m not judging, Isabella.”

“Really?” she bites out, voice splintering. “Because it sure as hell sounds like judgment to me.” Then, softer, as she looks away, “But whatever. I’m tired. I’m sticky. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to take the hottest shower known to man and pretend this conversation never happened.”

“No.”

She turns sharply, her nose scrunching and her brows drawn. “No?”

I nod. “No.You’re going to spend the night here. You can use my bathroom, and I’ll give you clothes to wear.”

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