It’s all rather weird but I’m glad to see his father is missing, so I relax a little and smile nervously.
“Thank you, Aliana.”
The woman dismisses the maid and beckons me over.
“Come dear, I’m Elena and you’ve met Luca, of course.”
Feeling a little more comfortable, I head across, sensing her curiosity rather than hostility and she smiles, but the look she throws me sweeps across me like a judging broom. This woman is smart. She takes it all in and calculates everything within a matter of seconds. I’m pretty sure she’s second guessed every aspect of my life so far because there’s an understanding in her eyes that settles my nerves—a little.
“Come and sit and we’ll get to know one another.”
Nervously, I take the bar stool beside Luca and note with interest the coloring that he is carrying out with meticulous precision.
“Luca, do you remember me from the school, I’m Bella.”
Elena looks at him eagerly and I sense her concern for the small boy who just nods and carrying on coloring.
“Would it be ok if I helped you color, Luca? I love creating pretty pictures and would love to help.”
He nods shyly and lifting the nearest pen to me, I remove the cap and turn my attention to the drawing.
“So, Isabella, you must be wondering how you got to be here.”
“You could say that.”
Elena nods and a small smile ghosts her lips as she shakes her head. “Luca needs a nanny, a professional with only his interests at heart. I do my best but he needs more, somebody to care for him 24/7. I wish it could be me but I’m older and less able to deal with a small boy and Dante decided this would be the perfect arrangement.”
I nod, one hundred percent in agreement. Just thinking about this poor child being raised in this house of horror makes my flesh creep. It’s no wonder he’s so withdrawn, there’s absolutely zero life in this place, it’s like a museum, not a home.
Elena sighs and ruffles his hair and it’s obvious how much she loves him, making my heart settle a little.
“So, Isabella, tell me about yourself, what made you decide on childcare as a profession?”
Feeling as if I’m about to have the interview I should have had before even coming here, I shake my head sadly. “It wasn’t my choice.”
“Then whose was it?”
“My grandmother’s.”
She says nothing and watches me keenly as I say sadly, “When my parents died, I was sent to live with her. She decided this was the best choice for me because I wasn’t very good at my studies. You see, my childhood was a little unconventional and I was never sent to a state school.”
“That’s interesting, what did you do?”
“My parent’s home-schooled me for most of my life. They didn’t believe in schools and following the rules, they wanted me to learn about nature, the elements, the world we live in, not facts, figures and history.”
I can tell she disapproves as she shakes her head and feeling defensive, I say quickly, “It was an amazing childhood. We traveled around a lot. I saw places and people I would never have found if I went to school like most girls my age. We developed a close bond and I suppose what they taught me built me into the woman I became. I’m independent and capable of thinking on my feet. I don’t let life get me down even though it keeps on trying and I look for the positives even when the negatives are weighing them down. I suppose the good points outweigh the bad because I miss that life because when they died, it ceased to exist.”
“How did they die?” Elena’s voice is soft and I feel the tears behind my eyes as I think about the two people who meant everything to me and still do. “They were killed in a car wreck. I was home at the time, I must have been fifteen and was allowed some independence. The cops stopped outside and I just knew. Apparently, it was quick which was a good thing at least, but it was still hard to understand.”
“It must have been, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” I throw her a small smile and the look she gives me is a little warmer as I say brightly, “Luca, you are putting me to shame, look at that excellent job you’re doing.”
He nods but doesn’t look and Elena catches my eye and the pain in them causes a lump to form in my throat.
She nods toward the corner of the room and we leave Luca working away and head across to a large window overlooking a lake.
Lowering her voice, she says sadly, “I’m sure you can see why we brought you here, Isabella. Luca is damaged and needs someone to draw him out of himself. I expect you are wondering what just happened to you, but my grandson, in fact all my grandsons, are men who act and explain later.
“You mean there’s more of them.”
I look around expecting to see an army of Dante’s invading the room and Elena smiles proudly. “Four to be precise. You see my dear, the Romanos are a family like no other which you will soon discover for yourself. Luca came to us in devastating circumstances and needs to learn how to be a little boy in a house full of men who lost sight of that inside them many years ago. He needs you, Isabella, and I hope you can see past all this and give this a chance—for him. I understand you made him laugh and it may seem a small thing, but he has never laughed once since he came here. I should probably tell you that his mother abused him and we don’t know the details. So, you must forgive us if we are a little overprotective of him, I’m sure you can understand why.”
Looking across at the small figure hunched at the table, my heart melts and my soul weeps. Abused. How could she?
Elena looks at me with hope and a hard expression, and I smile. “I’ll do my best.”
She exhales which shows me how important my answer was and then she smiles with an understanding that passes between us. Nothing else matters but Luca and I make my decision to stay in a heartbeat because there is something in him I recognize in myself and I want to chase the shadows away, rather than have another child experience what I went through.
As we head back to Luca, Elena says, “Your grandmother was a wise woman, Isabella, you are obviously a natural at this.”
Shrugging, I say sharply, “Actually, you’re wrong about my grandmother, she was a bitch and I hated her with a passion.”
I laugh bitterly. “Oh well, at least she’s dead now, so that’s one less problem to deal with.”
As I slip onto my stool beside Luca, the horror on Elena’s face makes me smile. Well, she did ask.
Chapter 8
Dante
Work always gets in the way. Ever since I found my son, I’ve been juggling the two and it’s become increasingly hard to do so. Having a son is different to how I imagined it. Nobody prepared me for how deeply I feel for him. It’s like a physical pain in my heart every time I’m with him because I wasn’t there when he needed me the most. I searched for him his entire life, but his mother made it impossible to find him. When we did, the unthinkable happened and I discovered the full horror of his life so far.
I try not to dwell on the scars on his body and the haunted look in his eye because if I allowed the darkness in, I would go slowly mad.
Now we have Isabella and I hope to God she gets through to him. I know my grandmother favored an older woman with experience, but I wanted someone young, different and not afraid to call us out on bullshit. I know Luca has a difficult life ahead of him and it’s up to me and my brothers to prepare him for that. But we can’t give him what he needs—a woman’s touch, a softness and a sense of love and kindness. Someone to wipe away his tears with a cuddle and a soothing voice. Someone who laughs at his funny little ways and reads him stories and make everything better. The men in this house make everything worse, and I am guilty of that more than most. No, Luca needs a woman and I push back that niggling voice in my head that won’t go away telling me I need one too.
I have women, lots of them for only one thing. A good hard fuck to keep me sane. I don’t date and I don’t love. I’m not interested in keeping one because the only woman I ever loved
turned out to be a bigger monster than me—Ava Hemingway, Luca’s mother.
I searched everywhere for her, thinking she must have been taken. I never once thought she’d left voluntarily and with my child in her belly.
It turns out she never loved me at all—or him and her sins caught up with her exactly the same time as I did because I wasn’t kidding when I told Isabella I would kill her if she hurt my son. I’ve done it already to the woman who betrayed him in the cruelest of ways. She can no longer hurt him and if anything, I wish I could have dragged out the pain because she didn’t deserve the quick death I had a split second to inflict on her because she deserved to die in pain over a week or two for what she did to my little boy.
Just before seven, I am showered and changed and ready to sit down to dinner with my grandmother and our newest member. My brothers are away, which is probably a good thing because I think the new girl has suffered enough shocks for one day. It’s important she feels comfortable here because I want the best for my son and he chose her. Strange choice but the right one, because thinking of the other robots in that place, I can’t imagine any one of them fitting in here. But Isabella Rose Grey. What a strange little thing she is.
Thinking about her flipping everyone off brings a rare smile to my face. I saw the pain behind her bravery. She wore it well, but I’m a master at spotting weakness in others. She hasn’t found it easy in Eden Manners and the Principal couldn’t have been more dismissive of her if she tried when I expressed my interest in her. She did everything in her power to push one of the other airheads on me, but my mind was made up when Luca laughed. She’s the one.
Marcus likes her. It was obvious to me, anyway. To everyone else he’s the same as me, an emotionless bastard with no soul. But I saw the spark of interest in his eyes when they lingered on her, and it annoyed me a little. The last thing I need is my right-hand man interfering with what’s mine, mine and Luca’s. It would be inconvenient, so I will make sure they never have time together and keep Marcus busy in another way.
As I head downstairs, I see her in the distance. She’s walking slowly, looking around her in awe and looks so small and uncertain, it makes me stop for a moment. Her pink hair looks completely out of place and, as it catches the light, reminds me of a fairy-tale princess walking the halls of the beast.
She seems slightly nervous, which I can totally understand. The dress she is wearing is simple and plain and is so wrong on her because Isabella Rose is not plain at all. I doubt she knows just how attractive she is. The other girls on that stage were pretty enough, dressed in their designer outfits, wearing their make up like professionals. But her, she was breath-taking because her natural beauty shone through the hard mask of rebellion she hid behind. Those smoky gray eyes are as unusual as she is and suit her. I’m guessing her hair must be brown because her dark lashes are in direct contrast to the pale white skin that resembles a porcelain statue.
But something bothers me about her and it’s something I can put right myself, so I call out, “Miss. Grey.”
She stops at the sound of my voice and I see her stiffen up. She’s afraid of me. They all are, which is how I like it. Then she turns and fixes me with a cool look, trying to mask her fear, which makes me smile inside. So brave, so alluring, so stupid.
“What are you wearing?”
She looks down at her simple cotton dress that looks two sizes too big and dwarfs her slender frame.
“A dress.”
She rolls her eyes cockily and looks anywhere but at me.
Again, I’m used to that because I know I’m intimidating. I’ve made it my life’s work so far to be as intimidating as possible, so her reaction is one I’m used to.
“Don’t you have anything smarter?”
She rolls her eyes again and says icily, “If you think I came with a fucking designer wardrobe, think again. All my clothes are these rags because in case it escaped your attention, I’ve been imprisoned in some kind of void for three years and don’t have anything else, so deal with it.”
With two strides, I reach her and see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as she tries to remain cool and aloof but the sight of her chest rising and falling rapidly shows me, she’s scared—of me. Feeling strangely happy about that, I reach out and grip her wrist and spin her into the wall. Holding her hard against it I pull her wrists back in an iron grip.
Her eyes cloud with a mixture of pain and so much hate I feed off it like a monster I am.
“Watch your mouth, Miss. Grey because I demand your respect. You speak to me with respect and if you answer back one more time, I will spank your ass in full view of anyone who wants to watch the show. I don’t think you understand what’s happening here, I own you and you do everything I say and answer when I direct a question at you with civility. If you speak to me like that one more time you won’t like the memory that follows it, do I make myself clear?”
I can tell she is battling against her wish to tell me to go and fuck myself, and I kind of wish she would. The image of her across my knee is not an unpleasant one, and for a moment I hope she defies me. I watch with interest as she struggles with herself, on the one hand wanting to defy me and the other to do as I say for an easy life. It makes for interesting viewing, but she obviously decides to fight her battle another day because she looks down and nods.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sir.”
I can feel her counting to ten in her mind as she grinds out, “Sir.”
She still won’t look at me and so I lift her face to mine and say harshly, “Look me in the eye when you speak to me.”
Her eyes open and the sight of those smoky eyes brimming with tears sends a message straight to my cock. As I hold her quivering body in my hands, I feel the passion in her battling to get out. She trembles under my touch and I imagine her in a different position, on bended knees with her hands tied and those eyes begging me for release. The power I feel when I hold my butterfly in my hands makes me hard, and I know I need to pay my club a visit tonight. This can only be a build-up of frustration that’s been brewing for a few weeks now, and I need a channel to let it out.
She licks her lips nervously and seeing the wet trail of her tongue over those plump lips almost makes me groan. If I could have one taste of them, it would be my biggest wish right now, but even I know what a line I would cross, so I release her and snarl, “Follow me. Tonight, we eat with my grandmother and tomorrow we sort out your possessions. I won’t have my son’s nanny looking like a waif off the streets. You will look how I want you to look and no arguments.”
She rubs her wrists as I release them and stares at me with the hate flashing from her eyes. What she doesn’t know is that I love it. I feed off it because it makes me stronger. I love the hate, the fear and the pain. They drive me and make me the man I need to be. We are all the same—the Romanos. We have to be because if we weren’t, we wouldn’t survive.
As Isabella Grey scurries after me, I feel like an all-powerful tyrant. It feels good walking with her hot on my heels because I’m used to walking alone. But I’m not alone anymore because I have a son, and now it’s up to me to give him the best.
Then it hits me and almost stops me in my tracks. For a moment it sits in my head like an impossible dream. Then I cast it out as if it has no business being there. Because the strange thought that gripped me hard was the one when Isabella Grey became Luca’s mother—my wife.
Chapter 9
Isabella
I’m not sure what happened back there, but it’s set me on edge. Unsurprising when you see the man eating opposite me as if he hasn’t a care in the world. Elena sits between us at the head of the table and the conversation appears to have decided not to show up because we eat and nothing else. Weird.
The food is seriously good though and having been used to school meals for three years; I appreciate every mouthful which doesn’t go unnoticed. Elena smiles with happiness as I polish off a plate of delicious pasta and gulp down a large gl
ass of red wine. Dante looks bored, but I can’t help that, I’m not here by choice, after all.
By the time the dessert arrives, I’m starting to think living here is a very good idea. Elena looks on with amusement as I pile my bowl high with profiteroles and shakes her head. “How do you stay so thin?”
“Good metabolism I guess, oh and school food for the last three years, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Tell me about your grandmother, why do you hate her so much?”
Elena smiles as she delivers the words but I don’t miss the hard glint in her eyes showing she asked for a reason. Dante looks annoyed and says abruptly, “Leave her alone. I’m sure Isabella doesn’t want to divulge her family secrets any more than we do.”
He pushes his plate away and stands abruptly, “I’m going out.”
“Dante!”
Elena’s voice holds a warning to it and yet he either doesn’t notice, or couldn’t care less because he storms out without another word.
I stare after him feeling a little shocked and Elena sighs heavily.
“I’m sorry, my dear. Dante is, and always was, difficult and thinks manners apply to everyone other than him. You’ll soon get used to it.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?” She looks interested and I shrug, spearing another ball of ecstasy onto my fork and sighing with contentment before saying, “I’m not staying.”
“When was this agreed?”
“It wasn’t.”
Sitting back in my chair, I feel full and more like my old self and seize the moment by staring at Elena with a determined expression.
“Actually, Elena, your grandson kind of kidnapped me and told me I had to work for him. The thing is, I had other plans and am keen to see them through. If I stay here another day, it wouldn’t be fair on Luca because that poor little boy needs someone who will stick around and help him heal. I can’t guarantee that because as I said, I have plans and the most I could put them off is one year until my inheritance comes through and I’m free.”
The Throne of Hate: A mafia romance (The Romano's Book 2) Page 4