She nodded, pulled back to look at him with a smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll be okay.”
He touched her face, wondering when it had become so dear to him. When her eyes had become so familiar that he felt like he’d been looking into them forever. He didn’t know how he’d breathed without her, and his life before her seemed startlingly empty and cold.
“I love you, Isabel.” He said it before he could second guess himself. Because it was true, and if anyone deserved everything beautiful and true, it was Isabel. “I had no idea what I was getting into when I chased you down that beach, when I took this job, but I want you to know I wouldn’t change a thing.”
She smiled, and his heart broke a little with the sweetness of it. “Not even my crazy brother?”
He pretended to think about it. “Maybe that.”
She laughed, stood on tip toe and pressed her mouth to his. When she pulled away it was just enough to speak against his lips. “I love you, too. I’m sorry to bring you into this mess of mine, but I’m afraid there’s no help for it now. There’s no way I could live without you.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “So it’s you and me then? You and me and Sofia?”
She nodded. “If you’ll have us.”
He cradled her cheek with his hand. “Always.”
He bent his head to hers, kissed her long and slow: a promise of all the kisses to come, all the moments they would have together now that she would be free. Then he pulled away, because kissing her made his blood boil, lit a fire in his body that felt like a match to dry kindling, and there was no time.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said.
She nodded. “You will.”
He turned and left before he could change his mind. Before he did something stupid like stay with her in spite of the alarm bells it might send to Eduardo, in spite of all the bad things that might follow.
They had a plan. He could stick to it for a couple more hours. Then she would be in his arms for good.
21
Isabel walked slowly among the pieces in her studio, running a finger along the bumpy lines of paint on the canvases. They represented so much. Here was the painting she’d done after her father died. She could see her grief in the threads of midnight blue running through the purples and greens. There was the painting she’d done for Sofia, all of her sister’s light and love evident in the thick swaths of yellow and orange. And of course, the painting she thought of as Luca’s, with all her newfound hope, the first canvas that didn’t have a single dark color wound into its swirls and arcs.
They were like friends, old and new. She would miss them, and she hated most of all to leave them to Diego, He would destroy them, of course. It would be a way to hurt her, and somewhere along the line, that had become Diego’s favorite pastime.
She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to let them all go. Like her parents, they would live on in her heart. They had been partners in her survival. She would never forget that, and someday soon, she’d be working again, painting with all the colors of her freedom. She said a last goodbye, then turned and left the room without looking back.
Marco was waiting for her in the foyer. It was the exact same time they left everyday, and they’d been careful not to vary their afternoon routine at all. Eduardo had taken to watching her even when Marco was around — she could only assume it was because Diego had assigned him to the job — and even when she wasn’t doing anything wrong it made her jumpy.
But she stuck with Marco, slid into his car as if it were any other day, her big tote bag stuffed with the few clothes she could fit without being suspicious and Sofia’s favorite toy elephant. Then they were on their way to Sofia’s school, passing by familiar houses, traversing familiar streets, all of it just like any other day. Except this would be the last day. After this, they would be somewhere new. She would be with Luca, and she would never have to worry about Diego’s hold over her again.
She drew in a relieved breath when Sofia’s school came into sight. They were almost there.
* * *
“Stop fucking pacing,” Elia said. “It’s not going to get them here any faster.”
Luca stopped. “I know. I’m just nervous.”
Elia went to the fridge and removed two beers, handed one to Luca. “Well, you’re making me nervous.”
Luca twisted off the cap and took a drink. “Thanks.”
“She really got under your skin, didn’t she?” he asked.
Luca nodded, unashamed. “She did.”
Elia shook his head, like the whole thing was a sorry state of affairs. “So I guess you’ll be riding off into the fucking sunset together?”
“If I’m lucky," Luca said grimly. “And I hope to god I am.”
* * *
“Be right back,” Sofia said to Marco.
She slid out of the car and made her way to the front of the school, then took her place in the pick-up line. She was nervous, but the sun was out, the breeze warm on her shoulders. And she was right here at Sofia’s school, just moments away from finally being free.
She smiled at the other mothers and nannies as they inched closer to the greeter’s desk, removing her driver’s license as proof of her identity when she got close. Finally it was her turn, and she handed over her ID and wrote Sofia's name on the sign-out sheet.
The greeter, an older woman with gray hair and bright pink lipstick, craned her neck to see the name, then turned the clipboard to get a better look.
“Oh,” she said, paging to the previous sheet.
“What is it?” Isabel asked. But somewhere in the pit of her stomach a sinkhole was opening up.
“I’m afraid Sofia was already picked up,” the woman said, smiling up at her. “By her brother, Diego.”
“No…” Everything went black around the edges of her vision as she backed away from the table, stuffing her hand in her mouth against the scream that threatened to tear everything apart.
Then Marco was there, his strong hand under her elbow propping her up. “What’s going on?” he asked.
She could hardly bring herself to say the words, but she had to say them. They wouldn’t start looking for Sofia until she said them.
“He took her,” she finally said. “Diego took Sofia.”
She was hardly aware of the next few minutes. There was a hurried push through the crowd picking up their children, children who would be waiting for them, who hadn’t been taken by someone mean and cruel like Diego, and then Marco was settling her into the car, hurrying around to the driver’s seat, putting the car in gear and calling Luca on his phone.
By the time they got to the house Elia had set up for them, Luca was hurrying down the steps to meet the car. She wasn’t even all the way out of her seat before he was pulling her into his arms, crushing her against his body.
“We were too late,” she said. “She’s gone.”
He took her face in his hands, made her look into his eyes. “We’ll get her back, Isabel. I swear it. And then I’m going to kill that motherfucker who calls himself your brother.”
* * *
ORDER PART THREE OF THE MUSCLE FOR MORE LUCA, MORE ISABEL, AND MORE SMOKING HOT ROMANCE.
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The Muscle Part Two Page 9