“Marcel . . . you don’t want to know everything. Trust me.” Something in the way she speaks tells me it’s far worse than I imagined.
“I might not, but I need to know in order to help, Isabella. You’ve known me for years, and in that you know I’m a strong man. I’m not naïve. I hate to admit the things I know they probably did to you . . . but I’m here for you.”
Isabella brings her right hand over her face and sighs, hiding her expression away from me as she speaks. She tells me about waking up in the refrigerator and seeing Madigan. How Alfred Falcone came in with pig’s blood and made her drink it, threatening both girls with Franco’s presence later that day. She told me how they didn’t have any idea Madigan was pregnant at first, but when Franco came to see them later and cut her clothes off with a knife he saw her protruding stomach and did the most gruesome thing she’s ever witnessed. Hell, I’ve seen some sick shit but never anything this bad. I barely kept my stomach contents in as she went into detail telling me what he did to Madigan. Isabella explained it was his sick, twisted version of an eye for an eye. I wouldn’t even say it comes anywhere close. Franco was looking for an excuse to become a barbarian. Madigan being pregnant gave him an in. I may be the type of man who loves revenge against the people who wronged me, but never would I have gone to those lengths—harming a child is inexcusable.
If that wasn’t the worst part Isabella confessed Franco turned her over to his men like a prostitute. She wouldn’t even look at me as she said it, instead staring at the wall while her body shook in fear at the recollection of such gruesome memories. Fire boiled inside my body, wanting every man to have their stomach contents ripped from them while they were alive. The anger within me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
Isabella continued to tell me how she was beaten, bruised and used. I wanted to be strong for her and get through it all although there was a point where I had to step out of her room and catch my breath. Hearing all of this has been done to the woman you love is a bit much.
When I came back into the room Isabella asked me if she should continue and I gave her the go ahead, not wanting to miss any details of her experience. I can’t be here for her if I don’t have all the information. She explained how the torment continued, but how it changed and one of the Falcones is actually working for the government like she does. I asked her who it was and she wouldn’t tell me, not wanting to blow his cover. Instead, she asked me to ensure the sons of Franco Falcone aren’t harmed in whatever transpires.
If you ask me, it’s a bit much to ask. My phone starts to ring just as she’s asked me to ensure they aren’t harmed. I think about ignoring it, but see it’s Stefan and decide to answer.
“I wasn’t expecting a call from you.” I admit.
He chuckles lowly on the other end, “No, I didn’t think you would. Figured I’d give you an update since you’re with your princess right now. I’m about ten minutes out from the snake’s location. The Skulls ransacked the Falcone residence and only ran into a few maids and a chef. It looks like the sons have made themselves scarce.” At least now I won’t have to ask anyone that the sons don’t get harmed. Fuck, for the life of me I can’t understand why Isabella won’t just tell me who the operative is. At least then the other two brothers could be on my fucking radar, but for some reason she wants to protect them all. Honestly, I can’t understand it.
“Do me a favor and make sure he suffers a great deal.” I seethe out, grinding my teeth.
“Rest assured, he will.” Stefan promises.
“Have you heard anything about Madigan?” I ask, knowing very well how Stefan hears everything. He reminds me of the one character in Game of Thrones with the little birds who’d report back to him. Surely Stefan has a group just like them.
“Yes, the woman is alive but she had to have some organs removed. I didn’t ask for the details.” Probably a hysterectomy. She had her child ripped from her womb after all.
“Jesus Christ. At least we can be thankful she’s alive.”
“I have to disagree with you here, Marcellus. Madigan will most likely wish she was dead too when she heals from all this. It’s not exactly something easy to get over.” And just as Stefan Dalca was starting to grow on me he went and proved what type of asshole he is.
Instead of letting Stefan know I’m hanging up, I simply end the call and go through my contact list until I find Ion’s name. Within a few rings he’s answered.
“Marcel, how is she?”
“She’s alive, better than to be expected. I hate to do this on such short notice although I think you can imagine people will be after Isabella for her hand in what transpired with the Falcone family. As soon as the physicians clear her I intend to take her out of the country to rest and lay low. Do you have any objections?”
“No, of course not. I was going to suggest something of the sort. You both need to take time with one another anyway. Mariana has said she believes your wedding will take place before Elena’s,” Ion chuckles at that. Elena is a prominent Romanian woman set to marry one of the head Clan members very soon. I believe within the next six months or so.
“She may be right. I don’t plan on allowing her to slip away again,” I reply, meeting my eyes with Isabella’s.
“Good on you. Now go take her somewhere and we’ll be in touch soon.”
Chapter 25
Isabella
I didn’t argue with Marcel one bit when he suggested we get out of New York as soon as possible. He managed to borrow Ion and Mariana’s private jet and fly us down to Bora Bora. When we landed we had a twenty minute boat ride to a private resort on the island. Thankfully we arrived in the evening after the sun had gone down so not many of the other vacationers saw us, or what we looked like. I’m sure when we arrived I looked far worse than I ever expected.
We’ve been here for two and a half weeks now. Every scrape, bruise and swollen muscle have now returned to their normal state. From the outside I look perfectly okay, but internally I’m a jumbled mess. Everything I went through replays in my mind every single night since Marcel saved our lives. I say our because Madigan is thankfully alive and well, resting back in her home with her husband Reggie, and their son, Carson. Her extensive injuries meant she had to get a full hysterectomy and from the updates Marcel has gotten, she’s recovering pretty well. When this is all over I plan on visiting Madigan in Atlanta. Somehow through our experience I think we’re going to be able to bond and become good friends. Besides Aria, I don’t have many friends. So many of the Romanians didn’t think I was good enough for them to spend their time with, but not Aria. Heck, I remember when we were kids. One of the other prominent clan families’ kids picked on me for spending time with her, saying I was a charity case. Aria shot back a remark and made everyone understand I was her friend and I wasn’t someone to be toyed with.
“Are you alright? You’re awfully quiet.” Marcel says from behind me. I’m laying down on the hammock which lays only a few feet above the crystal clear sea water. In all my life I’ve never been to a place like this, where the inside is incorporated with the outside. This hammock is almost an extension of the living area. Last night I made Marcel sleep out here with me, taking in the fresh air and seeing how bright the stars are in this tropical location.
While I definitely didn’t struggle going on vacations as a kid, I didn’t have the best either. My father always worked and when the time had risen Aria would ask her father if I could accompany them. I think I actually saw most of the world alongside the Funar clan.
“I’m fine. I’m only appreciating the beauty, serenity and everything else that comes with this island.”
The hammock dips down behind me and Marcel wraps his arm around my stomach, pressing his lips at the back of my shoulder. “I could spend the rest of my life here with you.”
While it sounds lovely, I have to burst his bubble. Turning over, “No you can’t, Marcel. You’re the head of the Funar clan and have far too much work to do.”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. I’m only saying imagining things like that is silly. We’ll never be able to live your life outside of the Clan. Or, I mean you won’t. I could walk away at any time if I felt the need.”
Marcel narrows his eyes for a split second, looking quite irritated. “I don’t want you to walk away, Isa.”
Now I’m the one who’s narrowing my eyes. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“I’ve spent the last few weeks realizing how much I adore you. That silly crush you had as a child isn’t one-sided anymore, babygirl. The truth is, I don’t want you to have the option to go. What I want is for you to be as stuck in the Clans as I am. Preferably, beside me.”
I think I know what Marcel is saying, but man do I wish he was dumbing things down for me right now. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I question, cocking a brow as I sit up in my tiny, rust colored bikini.
“Marry me, Isabella Andreea Zugra.” Marcel reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a rose gold ring with a massive princess cut diamond. On the side of the band there are smaller diamonds which connect all the way to the bottom.
“Are you punking me right now?” I ask, baffled beyond measure. This can’t be real. Hell, I wanted this ever since I was an ugly little duckling.
Marcel’s breath intensifies, “Are you going to answer or sit there and make me feel like I’m on The Bachelorette?”
“Yes. Of course I’ll marry you!” I spit out, wrapping my arms around him. He holds me in his embrace for a few minutes before either of us realize he didn’t put the ring on my finger. Marcel slides it on just as a question spills from my lips. “How do you even know what The Bachelorette is?”
His cheeks flush red, “Sometimes I watch it with Aria when we’re in the same city. It might be my little secret, and you’d better not tell a soul.”
“Cross my heart, hope to die. Your secret is safe with me.” I promise. There isn’t any secret of his I would tell and in knowing this, there’s something I should share with him. “You asked me who the agent was in the Falcone family. Just as your tv show secret, I’m giving you one to keep.”
Marcel nods, eyes focused on me as he awaits the name he’s probably already predicted.
“Lupo Falcone is double crossing his family.” I state.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me that before? It looked like you were protecting all of them.” He says.
I never thought of it like that, but I suppose it did look like I was. “No, I was only protecting Lupo. I will admit I think the rotten apple of the bunch was Franco. I don’t think his sons will follow in his footsteps and that is why I didn’t tell you.”
Marcel backs up a foot or so, cranes his neck to the side and looks at me like I’m insane. “Al Falcone made you drink pig’s blood, Isa. And you’re sitting here telling me you don’t think he fell far from the tree?”
I shake my head, “No, I don’t. Al Falcone didn’t physically harm me. He used a metaphor as a way to drill something in my mind. I was a pig to them, so he made me drink the blood of my kind. What he did was far better than the horrors his father unleashed on me. Think of it this way. Imagine what it would be to grow up with Franco as your father. Think of the lessons he’d teach you, the sick ways he’d make you think of the world. That isn’t any of the sons’ faults. The only person to blame there is Franco and he’s six feet under, if they even bothered to bury him that is.”
A loud knock comes from the front of our bungalow. Marcel starts to get up but I wave him down, “Let me get it while you think about what I’ve said.”
He sits right back down and I stand, walk across the maybe ten feet of porch into the living area and cut left across to the door. Pressing my eye to the small peep hole I see someone I didn’t expect to.
I open the door and walk on the other side, glaring at Z with a death stare. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She lights a cigarette and glowers at me. “You’re a hard woman to track down, Isabella.”
“That was done on purpose. I don’t know if you heard but I kind of got kidnapped by Franco Falcone, tortured amongst other lovely things.” I spit out at her, speaking sarcastically of course.
“I heard. I’m happy to see you’re alive and well. Franco has gone AWOL but a birdy tells me he was last seen being dragged out of that butcher warehouse by men in masks. You wouldn’t happen to know who they were, would you?”
I shake my head, playing the poker face I learned so well. “No. Whoever they are we should thank. They might’ve done us a favor.”
Z snickers, “Maybe. Maybe not. Falcone was the top dog of his crime family, but now that’s been handed to who exactly. Alfred Falcone?”
I nod, “That would be my best guess.”
“Our work with the Falcones isn’t done, Isabella. But, considering your cover is blown I can’t use you anymore.”
I interrupt her, “If you’re going to pin those charges on me, just fucking do it. I won’t be your puppet anymore. In fact, I refuse to be.”
Z cackles lowly, “Isabella if you’d allow me to finish I’d inform you I’ve told my upper management to cut you loose. There was a time when I wasn’t a handler and . . . your situation reminded me of something I endured myself. I have no control over what my bosses choose to do, however they agreed with my decision. It would be wrong to pin the crimes against you, especially when your father did it to cover his own ass if things went sideways.” Something in Z’s voice tells me she’s felt the pain I did. Call it a gut feeling, but that’s why she stuck up for me.
When Z first came for me with the charges I didn’t have much of a backbone. Since then I’ve had a lot of life experiences which gives me the purpose to continue on with this decision.
“I appreciate that. Thank you. Now, how do I submit a formal tip?”
Z cocks a brow, “What do you mean?”
“I’d love to inform the CIA of a dangerous man who’s meddling in sex trafficking. I believe he has shipments coming in every Tuesday.”
For the first time since I’ve known her, Z smiles brightly. “You’re nothing like your father, Isabella. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you. I needed to hear that.” In my mind my father was a decent man. Being shoved in that interrogation room showed me the façade he had displayed was nothing but an act. All in all, his impending arrest will only mean one thing —the Funars will have someone reliable, ethical and intelligent looking after their books.
Me.
Much to my surprise Z extends her hand and I do the same. We shake hands and she walks down the deck until she reaches the beach, disappearing from my sight. For a few moments I stand in the front of the bungalow, looking out onto the neighboring rooms and take in the fresh air along with the dimming sunlight.
The room door opens with a click and I turn to see Marcel, already knowing what he’s about to say, I cut him off. “I have plans for us tonight.”
He doesn’t have a clue about what I’m going to make him do, but this should be about us and no one else. We’ve waited long enough. Why should we continue the trend?
By the end of the evening I’ll no longer be a Zugra. Instead, I’ll go by Mrs. Isabella Funar.
Chapter 26
Marcel
Two days ago I received a heads up from Stefan Dalca of all people stating an emergency clan meeting was being held. Isabella and I talked about it and much to my disapproval she decided to tag along with me. I wanted her to fly back to Los Angeles and wait for me there – safe from the Falcones, but you can’t ever change this woman’s mind once she has decided on something.
“Are you sure you want to accompany me?” I ask her as our town car takes us to Ion’s office building. We’ve had clan meetings here before but now it’s being used more frequently. He rents out three floors here. What the other two are for I have no idea, but I’d be lying if I said I di
dn’t wonder.
“Yes, I’m allowed to accompany you now. Correct?” She cocks a brow, lifting her left hand with that sparkly diamond she accepted from me while we were in Bora Bora. Only, it isn’t just one ring that adorns her finger. Now she has two there.
I smirk to myself, wondering what the rest of the Clans will think about the two of us eloping while we were out of the country. To say we didn’t follow proper tradition is a drastic understatement. Although, can anyone blame us after what happened at Philippe and Carla’s wedding? No, they can’t. It’s obvious we have a newfound enemy and I doubt any of us are safe until we identify said individual and hunt them down like the vermin they are. We know it was his assistant, but we all know she must’ve been operating under a fake name. I haven’t spoken to Philippe since the day of the bombing, but I’ll have to remember to strike up conversation with the man soon. If he needs my help in any way I’ll make sure he knows it’s his.
The town car pulls to a dead stop next to the corporate building and I look into the rear view mirror, meeting my eyes with our driver. “Stay here until we’re ready to leave.”
“You got it, boss.” He smugly replies.
I open my door and step out onto the sidewalk, extending a hand for Isabella as she exits the vehicle. Her eyes scan over the building, “I never thought I’d be here in any way other than the accountant’s daughter.”
Yet again she finds a way to put herself down. Leave it to me to add some humor. “Are you saying you never imagined you’d be the babygirl of the dashingly handsome Marcellus Funar?” I tease with a wink, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek.
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