Page 18 of Wild Heart
“Thank you.”
“I’ve got a room upstairs. You can shower, and I’ll have food brought up. You’re safe while you’re here, Isabella. You have the club’s protection. But the fewer people who know, the better if you don’t want your father to find you too soon.”
She smiles and throws her arms around me like a little girl, and I inhale her scent, my body responding to her sudden closeness.
“Thank you, Raiden.”
She pulls her head back, and for the briefest moment her lips brush my cheek. It’s an affectionate kiss, a thank you kiss. But the heat of her lips travels all the way down my body and straight to my cock.
I’ve invited a mafia princess to stay in my club, and I’m in big trouble.
8
ISABELLA
Raiden leads me out of the meeting room and up the stairs of his clubhouse. The low rumble of men’s voices carries in from outside. Delicious smells waft down the corridor, and the sound of women’s laughter comes from the kitchen.
“It’s a club dinner tonight,” he explains.
It’s relaxed here, like a casual family gathering and nothing like the quiet tense halls of my father’s estate.
Upstairs is a corridor with several doors leading off it, and he takes me to the one at the end of the hall. It’s furnished plainly but comfortably with a large double bed and a bathroom adjoining it.
“This is my room when I need to crash. You can stay here.”
The furnishings are navy blue and masculine. It needs a woman’s touch, but I’m grateful to have a place to stay.
Raiden strides to the bathroom and opens cabinets before returning with a bowl of hot water.
“Sit.” He indicates an armchair near the bed.
I’m used to my father barking orders at me, and the defiance in me bubbles to the surface. I hate being told what to do, butRaiden holds up a medical kit and fixes me with a look that brokers no argument.
“I’m going to patch up your leg.”
I’d forgotten about the scratch on my leg, and when I look down there’s a tickle of blood on my shin. I sit in the chair, and he kneels before me with the bowl of hot water.
“Does the President of the club play doctor to all his guests?”
My father would never do this, get down on his knees before anyone. But Raiden wears his power with casual confidence. He doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone.
“Only the pretty ones.”
I roll my eyes at the easy compliment, because I don’t want him to see how much it pleases me. I’ve been thinking about this man for the last two years. And even though I’m a mafia princess and used to compliments, the fact that he thinks I’m pretty has my tummy doing double flips like a schoolgirl.
Get a grip, Isabella.
“May I?”
Raiden indicates my leg with the scrape on it, and I nod. He’s polite, or maybe he knows no one touches a mafia princess without permission.
I nod, and his hand gently grips my shin as he lifts my leg to rest upon his knee. He studies the cut and I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t see the goosebumps that prick my skin at his touch.
“It’s not deep,” he says. “I’ll clean it up and put a bandage on it.”
His hands are rough, callused, and dirty with bike grease. I’m used to the carefully manicured hands of my father’s associates. I can’t pull my gaze away from his rough knuckles as he dips a towel in the bowl of water and brings it to my leg.
“This may sting.”
