Chapter 2

ISABELLA’S POV

“Sit!” Carla ordered, her voice filled with anger as she pointed to the couch in the corner.

I didn’t argue. My legs were already beginning to wobble and it was a miracle that I got home without passing out on the way.

I staggered slightly, barely managing to fucking take a seat on the couch while Carla stormed out of the kitchen and returned with the black first aid kit I had come to know too well after spending almost all my life here. 

She dropped the kit to the floor and gave me a sharp look that told me that we were going to have a long talk.

She yanked up my sleeve and sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as she looked at the wound. “Jesus, Isabella, this is deep.” She pulled out a bottle of alcohol and gauze, slamming them onto the coffee table like it was my fault the bullet decided to graze me.

“It was either this or get shot in the head,” I muttered, teeth clenched as the pain threatened to make me see stars.

“Don’t sass me right now.” She pulled on gloves, snapped them into place with too much force, then soaked the gauze with alcohol. “This is going to sting.”

That was the understatement of the year.

“Shit!” I gasped, nearly biting through my tongue as she pressed the soaked cloth to my wound.

Oh my fuckingㅡ

“Hold still!” Carla shouted as I tried to yank my hand away. “You’re lucky it didn’t go deeper.”

“Lucky is  not the word I would use, I would rather not have gotten a fucking graze in the first place” I hissed, fighting the urge to slap her hand away again.

I had only gotten shot once since I started going about in mafia families but I was passed out then when it was being treated.

Carla worked fast, her angry hands precise and efficient, her face tight with something between frustration and fear but mostly frustration. “I told you to get out,” she muttered under her breath as she dug into the kit for the needle and thread. “I told you not to go after him.”

“I know,” I whispered, voice weak now. My body was losing the adrenaline that had kept me standing and the pain was setting in fully. I could feel my vision begin to blur already as blood soaked the cloth. Okay, maybe it was more than a slight graze.

 “You’re gonna pass out if you keep bleeding like this,” she said, her voice clipped. “Tilt your head back. Now.”

I did as she said, breathing heavily, preparing myself. She wanted to sew it shut.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” she hissed as she threaded the needle. “Why didn’t you just go through the nearest exit, huh? Why? And you fucking saved a Romano?!”

My eyes fluttered. “I don’t know—he was gonna die. I just—” My breath caught in my throat as she started sewing.

The pain was blinding and I almost screamed out.

“Don’t you dare faint,” Carla warned through clenched teeth.

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the couch with my good hand as I fought to stay awake. My body shook under her touch, every pull of the needle making my eyes roll back with pain.

Fuck. Fuck.

By the time she was done, I was already dizzy with pain.

Carla stood, took off the gloves, and tossed them into the bin then she stared at me like she was seeing me for the first timeㅡlike she didn’t know what she was looking at anymore.

“You saved him,” she said flatly. This wasn't something I wanted to talk about now. Hell, I was just trying to figure myself out. Why did I do that?

I winced and lowered my eyes. “It wasn’t like that—”

“Wasn’t it?” Her voice became sharper. “You stabbed a man. A black vulture! For Matteo Romano.”

I licked my dry lips and struggled to find my voice as I looked at the woman who had taken me in after I lost everything. “He was injured. He was going to die.”

“Good!” Carla snapped, pacing the room now. “That would’ve saved us both years of work!”

I remained silent, feeling smaller with every word.

She stopped suddenly and turned to me, her eyes cold. “Or was it because he’s handsome? Is that it? I've heard the stories of the charming heir? Did that get into your head? Is that why you saved him?”

Her words hit me like a slap and I recoiled. I stared at her, stunned. “What? No! Carla—God, no! I—I didn’t do it because of that!”

She didn’t speak for a second, just stared at me, then she walked over to the cabinet near the TV and pulled out an old, worn folder that was fraying at the edges as she tossed it onto the table in front of me.

“I didn’t want to show you these again,” she said, her voice lower now. “But I think you need reminding.”

I hesitated and my hands shook as I reached for the folder.

Inside were pictures. Littered Bodies. My father’s cold, lifeless eyes staring blankly up at the camera.

The house I had grown up in had been reduced to rubble.

I blinked hard as tears blurred the images. “I don’t remember most of it, you know?” I whispered.

“I know,” she said, softer now. “That’s why I kept these. So you would never forget why we’re here. So you would never forget what they did.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling anger replace the pain.

Matteo Romano.

Carla sighed, closed the first aid kit and set it aside without looking at me. “There’s something else.”

I didn’t move, I just dropped the folder on the coffee table, not able to look at it again. “What?”

She moved closer and adjusted a towel beneath my stitched arm. “There’s going to be an event at the Romanos next week. Invite only. Strictly”

I watched her face for any clue. “What kind of event?”

“A bride selection,” she said simply. “Matteo’s expected to choose a potential wife from a group of candidates who are going to be present. It'll be a competition and would take weeks but get this… the participants will live in the villa too.”

I blinked slowly, trying to understand what she was saying. “And?”

“We’ll get you in.” She crossed her hands.

I stared at her like she had gone mad. “Absolutely not.”

Carla didn’t flinch at my sudden refusal. “You’ll go.”

“I’m not doing that,” I said matter of factly. “Getting that close to him? no. That’s not the plan.”

She finally looked at me and her eyes burned with anger. “You were close enough to save his life tonight.”

I went still as she continued.

“You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t walk away.” She accused again.

“That was different,” I muttered.

“No, it wasn’t.” Her voice was harder now. “And this isn’t about your feelings. You’ll go! Not for marriage. For access into the devil's lair. For intel. For the things we couldn’t get tonight.”

I didn’t say anything. Couldn't.

Carla stood, stepping back. “You’ll be just one of many. Keep your head down, play your part. Blend in. Get what we need then leave.”

I knew I had no say in it. She called the shots here.

She turned away and walked toward the hallway. “Rest. We start prepping your identity tomorrow.”

As she left, I tipped my head back as I took several breaths. Stay low.

Shit.

I should have killed him when I had the chance.