Page 384 of Rosetti Family New York
"So?" I move toward her, slow and deliberate. She presses herself harder against the doorframe, but I catch the way her eyes drop to my mouth for just a second before snapping back up.
"So?" She stares at me, her green eyes wide with panic. "He thinks I chose to be there. He thinks I betrayed him."
"And that scares you." I take another step closer. She's trapped between the doorframe and me now, and I can smell that sweet scent that drives me crazy.
"You don't understand what he's like when he's disappointed." The words burst out, raw and desperate. She pushes off from the doorframe, but that only brings her closer to me. For a moment, we're inches apart, and I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. Her breath catches, and I notice how her lips part slightly.
Then she's moving past me, pacing now. Her heels click against the hardwood in a frantic rhythm, and I watch the way the silk moves with her body, clinging to her ass, her thighs.
"He cuts people off. Completely. From everything."
I pull out my phone to text Milo, forcing myself to focus on business instead of the way she bites her bottom lip when she's nervous. My thumb moves quickly: Need intel on Chase Callahan. What's he been doing this week?
"He's your uncle, not your owner," I say, watching her pace. Every step is graceful, even in her panic. Even terrified, she moves like art.
"He raised me. After my parents died, he gave me everything." She stops in front of the tall windows, pressing her palms against the cool glass. The position arches her back slightly, and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep from going to her.
"You don't owe him your life."
"Everything I have comes from him. The foundation work, the connections, even my apartment." Her breath fogs the window as she speaks, and I notice how her voice has gone breathy, like she's fighting for air.
My phone buzzes. Emilio: Give me 20 minutes.
"And that's how he controls you." I slip the phone back into my pocket, the movement drawing her attention. When she looks at me, her pupils are still dilated, but now there's something else there. Something that makes my blood run hot.
"He protects me. He loves me." But uncertainty creeps into her voice, making it waver. Making it soft and vulnerable in a way that makes me want to cross the room and show her what real protection looks like.
"Does he? Because loving families don't threaten consequences for independent choices."
She turns from the window, silk rustling. The sound goes straight to my cock. "I didn't make a choice. You kidnapped me."
"But he doesn't know that."
"Which is why I need to go home. Explain." She moves past me toward the kitchen, and I catch a hint of her natural scent mixed with something else. Something that tells me her body is responding to me whether she wants it to or not.
"And you think he'll believe you?"
She stops in the doorway, her hand gripping the frame. Her knuckles are white with tension, but I notice how her chest is still rising and falling rapidly. "He has to."
"Does he?"
She opens her mouth, then closes it. Doubt flickers in her eyes, and I can practically see the moment her certainty cracks.
My phone rings, cutting through the tension. Emilio.
"What did you find?" I answer, watching Isabella's face.
"Chase has been calling Isabella's apartment every day. Multiple times. He's also been calling her work, her friends. Had investigators check her apartment yesterday."
Isabella's face goes even paler. Her hand tightens on the doorframe.
"What did they find?"
"No signs of struggle. No signs she packed. But here's the interesting part—he's been doing this for months. The calls, the checking up. This isn't new behavior."
I look at Isabella, who's watching with growing anxiety. Her free hand is pressed against her stomach, and I can see the moment this information hits her.
"How long?"
