Page 26 of Prince of Vice

As everyone shuffles out, I steal a glance at Greg's scowling face. His frustration is evident, and a small, wicked part of me revels in his defeat. But I know that even with this victory, the battle ahead is far from won.

As the courtroom empties, I gather my papers and make my way toward the exit. Primo's presence lingers like a dark cloud, but I refuse to acknowledge him. Before I can slip away, his hand wraps around mine, stopping me in my tracks.

"Isabella," he says, his voice low and commanding. I grit my teeth, suppressing the urge to lash out at him.

"Let go of me," I demand, my tone icy. But Primo only laughs, pulling me into a small, windowless side room. He shuts the door behind us with a decisive click, leaving us alone in the dimly lit space. The air is heavy with tension, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Come on, Isabella," he chides, his grip still firm on my wrist. "You should know by now that such demands never work with me."

"Primo, this is not the time," I snap, irritation and exhaustion warring within me. "We have more important things to worry about."

"Exactly," he agrees, releasing my hand as he leans against the table. "Like Greg, for instance. Did you see the way he looked at you? Like he wanted to tear you apart."

"Greg's always been like that," I argue, rubbing my wrist where his grip had been. "It's nothing new, and it's not something we need to focus on right now."

"Isabella, listen to me," Primo insists, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. "I've seen men like him before. They're unpredictable, dangerous when they feel cornered. And believe me, he looks like he's about to do something foolish."

"Instead of obsessing over Greg, consider your own actions," I say, my voice edged with irritation. "You removed your monitor and put us all at risk. Besides, as far as dangerous men go, Greg’s the least of my worries right now,” I say, thinking about the messages I keep getting from the loan sharks. I push against his chest, trying to create distance between us. But he grabs my wrists, easily overpowering me, and pins me against the door.

"Seems we always end up like this," he murmurs, a wicked grin playing on his lips. My pulse races as I struggle to reconcile my attraction to him with my annoyance at his cavalier attitude.

"Let me go," I demand, my breath hitching.

"Isabella," he says, his voice low and husky. His lips barely brush mine as he adds, "You were fantastic in court today. I was particularly impressed with your oral skills." He smirks at his double entendre, and my cheeks burn with indignation.

"Primo, you need to stop—" but my words are swallowed by his sudden kiss, his mouth hot and insistent on mine. For a fleeting moment, I give in to the desire that's been simmering beneath the surface. His lips move against mine. I open my mouth and his tongue invades me greedily. I can feel myself falling into him as arousal courses through me. But then reality crashes in, and I remember that this is just another one of his games.

I bite down hard on his lip, a metallic taste flooding my mouth. He yelps and pulls away, freeing me from his grip. I take advantage of his momentary shock and wrench open the door.

"Isabella!" he calls after me, but I don't look back. Fear and adrenaline propel me through the courthouse, each step pounding out a frantic rhythm in time with my heart. When I finally reach my car, I fumble with the keys, my hands shaking.

As I slide into the driver's seat, the seriousness of what just happened begins to settle on my shoulders. Primo Maldonado, the man I'm supposed to be defending, has once again left me breathless and conflicted. And as much as I want to deny it, I can't help but feel that I'm in way over my head.

My heart hammers against my ribcage as I merge into traffic, the sleek purr of the Lamborghini a stark contrast to the thunderous chaos inside me. I grip the wheel tightly, trying to steady my trembling hands and regain control of my breathing. The memory of Primo's lips on mine, the taste of his blood, refuses to dissipate, leaving me unnerved and disoriented.

"Get a hold of yourself, Isabella," I mutter, swallowing hard. I know I need help, someone to talk to about this tangled web I've found myself caught in. My thoughts turn to Tammy, my mentor and confidante from law school – she has always been there for me, offering guidance and support without judgment.

I reach for my phone and dial her number, praying that she'll pick up. "Tammy? It's Isabella. I... I need your advice."

"Isabella! How are you?" Her warm voice washes over me like a balm, soothing the frayed edges of my nerves.

"Can we meet for lunch today? There's something important I need to discuss with you."

"Of course, sweetheart. You know I'm always here for you. How about that little Italian place we used to go to during our study breaks?"

It's ironic, but fitting.

"Perfect," I say. "See you at one?"

"See you then. Take care, dear."

"Thank you, Tammy." As I slip my phone back into my purse, relief blooms in my chest, a fragile blossom of hope amid the thorny brambles of doubt and fear.

I focus on the road ahead, the sleek lines of the Lamborghini hugging the curves like a lover, the powerful engine humming beneath me. Stray sunbeams filter through the canopy of trees, dappling the asphalt with gold and casting intricate patterns on my skin. It's a beautiful day, and yet I can't shake the dark cloud of unease that clings to me, the sense of impending danger that prickles at the nape of my neck.

"Get it together, Isabella," I admonish myself, fighting against the treacherous currents of desire and dread that threaten to overwhelm me. "You are strong, capable, and smart. You can handle this."

With each mile that passes beneath the Lamborghini's tires, I try to steady my resolve, to shore up my defenses against the tempestuous storm of emotions that Primo has stirred within me. But as I navigate the twists and turns of the road, I start to wonder if I'm losing myself to something far more dangerous than mere lust – something that could shatter my world beyond repair.

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