Page 17 of Wild Heart
“Where are your guards?”
She bites her lower lip and looks up at me. It’s the most adorable guilty kitten look, and my heart softens even though I know she’s playing with me.
“I climbed over the wall yesterday,” she admits.
“God damn, Isabella.” I run my hands through my hair.
“Don’t send me back.” She grips the front of my t-shirt, and there’s no faking the desperation in her eyes. “Please, Raiden. Don’t send me back.”
My name on her lips makes my dick ache. The scent of gardenias fills my nostrils and takes me back to that night two years ago.
My blood heats, and my cock twitches. I’m going to have sore balls tonight.
But the desperation on her face is all real. I’ve never known Isabella to beg before. Two years ago may have been the only time I’ve talked to Isabella, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping an eye on her. Watching her jog in the woods, following her to the climbing gym.
It was clear to me to see she was planning something; I don’t know how Carlo didn’t pick it up. But maybe he’s not as observant of his daughter as she thinks he is.
My hand closes around hers, and I gently pry her fingers off my shirt.
“I won’t send you back, Isabella, but you have to tell me the truth.”
She nods and swallows hard. “You got anything to drink?”
I’m not letting her out of this room, so I go to the small fridge in the corner. It’s full of beer and soda, and she choose a Diet Coke.
She takes her time opening it and swallowing a few large gulps. The drink seems to settle her, and when she’s finished, she places the can carefully on the table.
She swishes her hair off her shoulders and sticks her chin back out. The scared girl is gone, and the mafia princess is back.
My cock positively aches for her.
“I wanted to ruin my reputation,” she says. “That’s why I went to the strip club.”
Her eyes are steady on me, and I believe her. “Why would you want to do that?”
“My father keeps me guarded because I’m his weakness. He thinks someone will snatch me because I’m such a prize. That’s why I have no freedom.” I nod, catching on. “Italians are an old-fashioned bunch. If I ruin my reputation, I lower my value. I am no longer such a prize.”
“And you thought that would earn you more freedom?” It sounds like a stupid hare-brained scheme to me. But maybe that’s how desperate she is. Isabella is wild and passionate; it must drive her crazy to have restrictions on her.
She raises an eyebrow. “I had to try.”
“Why didn’t you just run away? You got out of the estate somehow.”
She looks away. “Because I couldn’t do that to my father. Despite it all, I love him, and I didn’t want to never see him again.”
She frowns, and I wonder what she’s thinking about. If there’s a soft side to Carlo that only his daughter and late wife have seen.
“Your father must be looking for you.”
She sighs. “Yes. I’ll have to go back eventually, but now my reputation is still intact.” She gives me a flirtatious smile. “Unless you know anyone who wants to ruin it for me?”
A growl rumbles out of my chest. There’s nothing I want more than to throw her on the table, rip off that ridicules skirt, and ravish her until she’s screaming my name. To wipe that mask off her face and watch her come undone.
But she’s Carlo Berone’s daughter. That would be suicide.
“I won’t send you home,” I tell her. “You can stay here tonight until you figure out what you need to do.”
Her shoulders sag in relief, but only for an instant before she pulls them upright.
