Page 33 of Prince of Vice

"Primo," Isabella says softly, reaching out to touch my hand. "You cannot let your father's favoritism dictate your worth as a leader. You have proven yourself time and again in your own unique way."

Her words wash over me, and for a moment, I feel the crushing weight of my self-doubt lift from my shoulders. But then, the reality of my situation comes crashing back down.

"Thank you," I murmur, struggling to keep my emotions in check. "But no matter how much I might wish to change the course of our family, I fear that it may be too late."

“Don't give up on yourself or your vision for the future," she pleads, her eyes shining with determination. "I can relate to your struggles. I had a difficult relationship with my own father. My father wanted me to continue running the law firm in his shadow, working for the mob. But I never wanted that life for myself, or for a family I might have someday."

I watch as she absently traces patterns on the table, and I'm struck by the vulnerability in her eyes. It's a side of Isabella I've never seen before, and it only makes me feel more connected to her.

"Frankie Moretti..." I murmur, reflecting on her father. "I knew him, but not well. He was a shrewd businessman and a loyal friend to my father."

"Despite our differences, I loved my father," she admits, lifting her gaze to meet mine. "But I couldn't bear the thought of perpetuating the cycle of violence and crime that had defined his life."

"I can relate to that more than you know," I confess, feeling an unexpected surge of emotion. "I... actually have a son."

"Really?" Her eyes widen in surprise, and I can see the curiosity dancing in their depths. "What's his name?"

"Lucas," I say, the name feeling like both a comfort and a burden on my tongue. "He lives with his mother outside of Washington, D.C. I try to stay out of his life because I don't want him to be sucked into this way of life."

"Tell me about him?” she asks gently.

I shake my head. “I wish I could. I wish I could tell you his favorite sport, TV show, or color, even. But, I’ve not been in his life enough to know.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, her eyes kind. “That must be really difficult.”

I look off to the side. “It is what it is.”

“What about his mother?” she urges, her hand resting lightly on my forearm.

"Her name is Leah," I explain, memories of our brief time together flooding back. "We met right after high school, and our relationship was passionate but short-lived. She didn't want to be with me because she knew what my life entailed. Leah comes from a family that owns an expensive clothing label, and being associated with me would have hurt her career."

"Primo," Isabella whispers, her eyes filled with empathy. "That must have been so difficult for you both."

"More for her than me," I admit, guilt gnawing at the edges of my heart. "I've always felt torn between my duty to my family and my love for them. My son deserves better than a life mired in darkness."

As the silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions, I realize just how much Isabella truly understands me.

A single tear rolls down Isabella's cheek as she looks at me with a mixture of understanding and sadness. "It must be so difficult for you not to have a relationship with Lucas," she says softly.

"Perhaps it's for the best," I reply, my voice cracking with emotion. "Lucas has already shown an interest in our business, trying to weave his way in. I do my best to keep him out, but I fear I may not be successful. He's stubborn and hard-headed, just like his father."

“You can only do your best. One day he’ll realize how much you sacrificed to keep him safe,” Isabella reassures me, her hand finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. I look into her eyes, finding solace in their depths.

I realize that if I don’t change the subject, I’m going to spill all of my secrets to this woman. “Let’s talk about the case,” I say gruffly.

“Oh, okay,” she replies, a bit of shock in her eyes at my sudden mood shift. “Well, I’ve been reviewing the evidence and the chain of events you've given me many times. I think our best strategy is to pin Beau's killing on someone else, but not the agent, Axe— he's working with the Feds."

"Do you really believe there was someone else behind all this? I was assuming it was just Axe.” My heart pounds with a mix of hope and dread.

"Absolutely," she nods confidently. “Axe wouldn't have gone rogue without a reason. There must be someone pulling the strings, but I can't figure out who yet. And, I bet that they’re the one that killed Beau and had it pinned on you.”

I glance at the clock, noting that it's midnight. "You've done more than enough for today, Isabella. You should get some rest."

"Alright," she concedes, releasing my hand and standing up.

Escorting Isabella to her bedroom, the tension between us is palpable. Our connection has deepened tonight, and I can feel the magnetic pull of her presence, urging me closer.

"Goodnight, Isabella," I murmur, my voice thick with unspoken desire.

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