Page 383 of Rosetti Family New York
"Then why won't you look at me?"
She does look at me then, something desperate in her green eyes. The morning light catches the gold flecks I've memorized from watching her sleep. "Because looking at you makes this harder."
Before I can ask what she means, the landline starts ringing. Sharp, insistent. The sound cuts through the peaceful morning like a blade.
Isabella goes completely still. Color drains from her face, leaving her pale as the marble countertop. Her coffee cup rattles against the saucer, and I notice how her fingers tremble as she sets it down.
"I'll get it," I say, pushing off from the counter. But she's already shaking her head, backing away from the sound.
"Don't. Please don't."
"It's just a phone."
"It's him." She backs toward the doorway, and I catch the way her chest rises and falls rapidly beneath the silk. "I know it's him."
I walk to the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. The phone sits on an antique side table, its black surface gleaming. I pick up the receiver, the plastic cool against my ear.
"Hello?"
"Matteo Rosetti." The voice is cold, controlled, absolutely furious. Chase Callahan. The sound makes my jaw clench so hard I'm surprised my teeth don't crack.
Isabella appears in the doorway, and when she sees me holding the phone, she wraps her arms around herself. The movement presses her breasts together, and even through her fear, I notice how the silk clings to every curve.
"Chase." I keep my voice calm, casual. The coin continues its steady rhythm between my fingers. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Where is my niece?"
"Your niece?"
"Isabella was seen at the gala last night. On your arm. Looking very comfortable." His voice could cut glass. Each word is precise, deadly. "She's been missing for a week. Not answering her phone, not at her apartment, not at work. And then she surfaces at a Callahan Foundation event, hanging on your every word."
Isabella makes a small sound, like she's been punched. Her hand flies to her mouth, fingers pressed against her lips. But I notice how her nipples have hardened beneath the thin silk, visible through the fabric. Fear does things to a body that the mind can't control.
"Sounds like she's living her life," I say, catching the coin in my palm.
"Isabella doesn't make choices like that. She's been raised better. She knows her loyalties."
I watch Isabella sink against the doorframe, her legs suddenly unsteady. The way she leans there, silk riding up slightly on her thighs, makes heat pool low in my gut even as fury builds in my chest.
"Maybe she's growing up."
"If she's there by choice, then she's betrayed everything I taught her. And there will be consequences."
The word 'consequences' makes something dark and violent unfurl in my chest. My free hand clenches into a fist, and I have to force myself not to put it through the wall.
Isabella's breathing becomes shallow, quick. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and I can see the moment panic starts to take hold. Her green eyes go wide, pupils dilating.
"She's not available," I say, my voice dropping to that deadly whisper that makes grown men take a step back.
"Make her available."
"I don't think so." The words come out with enough venom to kill.
"This isn't over, Rosetti. Not by a long shot."
The line goes dead with a sharp click. I set the phone back in its cradle, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. My hands are shaking with the need to break something, to find Chase Callahan and show him exactly what happens when he threatens what's mine.
Isabella is trembling now, her whole body shaking like a leaf in a storm. "He knows," she whispers. "He knows I was with you."
