Elena clears her throat, breaking the silence.
“Alright, then. I’ll keep digging and see if I can pull up any info on De la Rosa. Maybe a financial trail, something he missed.”
Yuri leans forward. “Where’s Gregori in all this?”
“He’s pounding the pavement right now, shaking down contacts for info. He’ll be back to report before too long. Why, you miss him?”
Yuri laughs. “Let’s not go that far.”
She grins briefly before her expression turns grim. “Just keep in mind that if you think this is going to be easy, you’re dead wrong. De la Rosa didn’t come here to lose.”
“No,” I say, setting my glass down firmly, “but we’re not planning to lose either. He can bring all the firepower he wants. We’ll be ready.”
Lev and Luk exchange glances, their expressions determined.
I go on. “Whatever De la Rosa thinks he’s bringing to Chicago, he’s about to find out just how far we’re willing to go to protect what’s ours.”
And with the Mancinis on our side, we’re in a position to hit back harder than ever before.
It’s just a matter of marrying a woman I don’t love.
And forgetting the one I can’t stop thinking about.
CHAPTER 9
ISABELLA
“Come on, Steph. Wakeup.”
I sit by Stephania’s side, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.
The room is too quiet, sterile, and way too cold.
I’ve been here for hours now, waiting for her to wake up, keeping myself from pacing by sheer force of will. Outside the door, Mario and his men are stationed, practically glued to their posts.
"Come on, Steph. You’ve been sleeping long enough. Time to get back to the land of the living. I have something really big to tell you. I’m going to need you more than ever." I reach over and brush a stray strand of hair from her face, my other hand resting lightly on my belly. “Besides, you’ve got a wedding to plan, remember? You get to be the blushing bride, just like you’ve always wanted. Sure, it’s not with a man you actually love, but still! A wedding!”
God, I’m not good at this.
She doesn’t move, not a twitch, but I can see her breathing steadily, and that’s good.
The door opens quietly, and I turn to see Dad step in.
He moves carefully, trying to be as silent as possible. He looks rough. He’s wearing one of his suits, but the tie knot looks a little less tight than usual, and his thick, dark hair is a bit mussed.
I stand up to give him room by Stephania’s bed, but he reaches out, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Here, Dad. You take my place. She’s out of it, but I bet she’s getting sick of me already.”
“No, Isa, stay. She’d want you here,” he says. “You know that.”
I want to protest, thinking he might need some alone time with her, but I relent, easing back into the seat.
For a moment, Dad just stands there, looking at her, his face lined with fear—an emotion I’verarely seen from him.
He takes a seat beside her, reaching for her hand and holding it between both of his, his thumb stroking the back of her hand with a tenderness that catches me off guard.
“She’s like a daughter to me,” he says. "When we lost her parents, it was like losing a part of myself. Stephania has always been more than just my niece. And she’s always been more than your cousin.”
