22
22
Aaron's POV
I peered out of my study window, sighting Isabella pacing the yard. She'd been spacey and jumpy for days, and I could tell that Victor was getting his hooks into her. Reports had been trickling in that Victor was meeting with her frequently, his insistence escalating.
My phone buzzed, and I saw that it was a call coming from Diablo.
“Boss, there’s fresh intel on Victor”
"Go ahead."
“He’s been making certain promises to the syndicate bosses of the north. Not the kind of vague promises that we’re going to be able to overthrow you — specific pledges regarding sharing intelligence about your activities, security methods and business ties.”
I felt my jaw clench. "What kind of intelligence?"
“The kind that only someone with inside access to you could release. Your little brother, who shares your home, your routines, your secret vulnerabilities.”
My wife. Victor was going to be the last weapon he used against me; he was planning on using my wife.
"There's more, Boss. Victor has been telling them he’s about to have this intel imminently — days, not weeks. He's under pressure to deliver."
"Which means he's pressuring Isabella."
"Most likely. And what if she is unable — or won’t — give him what he needs..."
“He’ll make use of her yet.”
“Or just get rid of her as a potential liability.”
The instant image of Victor killing Isabella came to mind and my vision turned red. She did not know how much danger she was now in, how willing the man she believed loved her would be to sell her out.
"Continue listening to those Victor chatters," I told Diablo. “And heighten discrete security in and around Isabella. I don’t want her alone anywhere on the estate.”
"Already done, Boss."
When I hung up the phone I knew what I had to do. I was sick of waiting for Isabella to pick me over Victor. I had to engineer something that would drive her to find out the truth about how she felt—about Victor and his real intentions.
The excursion to the coast villa was lovely. Separate from Victor’s control, separate from the estate and all of its demands, Isabella and I could determine what was blossoming between us. And if Victor got in the way...
Well, I’d be down for that as well.
Dipping The Toes A cool drink provided the snappiest sound of my highly amped summer hydration.
I found Isabella in the library bent double in a chair with a book she hadn’t read in three hours.
"Good book?" I said, sitting down across from her.
"It's fine."
“It’s been 20 minutes and you’ve been on the same page.”
She looked up, caught. "I'm just distracted."
"By what?"
"Things."
I leaned in, studying her face. “Isabella, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
"Can I?"
"Of course. We're married. We're supposed to be partners."
“Partners,” she said, testing the word.
It was quiet for a long time, I could tell she was battling something within herself.
“What If you had to choose between your family and someone you were close to? What if they said it was the only way you could be together?"
It was hypothetical, but I could hear the actual anguish behind it.
“That would depend on what each loyalty asked of me,” I added cautiously. “On why the person I loved asked me to make that choice, and whether what she wanted would cause injury to innocent citizens.”
“Imagine if they say that was the only way you could be together?”
“And then I would wonder whether they truly loved me, or loved what I could do for them.”
The tears stood in Isabella's eyes, and she looked down.
"Hey," I murmured, making my way over to sit on the arm of her chair. "What's this really about?"
"Nothing. Just... philosophical questions."
"Isabella." I tilted her chin, forcing her to look at me. "Someone's pressuring you, aren't they?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do. Someone is commanding you to do things you don’t want to do.”
She looked up at me in astonishment for having seen so much.
“If someone’s putting pressure on you, if someone is threatening you, trying to control you, then I need to know,” I started over. I can look out for you, but only if you trust me to tell the truth.
For a second, I thought she was going to tell me everything. Her lips opened and I felt that she was about to confess.
Then she pulled back.
"No one's threatening me. I’m just... adapting to married life is more difficult than I had anticipated.”
She was lying, and we both knew it.’ But I couldn’t press too hard without letting on how much I already knew.
"Perhaps some time away will do some good. Thought about my proposition? The villa on the coast?"
"I have."
"And?"
"I mean... I think I want to go." Her answer surprised me. I'd expected her to refuse.
"Really?"
"Yes. When would we leave?"
"This weekend. Friday afternoon, back Sunday evening."
"Just the two of us?"
"Just the two of us."
She nodded, and looked as anxious as resolute. "Okay. Let's do it.”
When she took off from the library I knew why she had appeared torn over accepting. Something—or someone—had forced her hand. Maybe Victor had issued an ultimatum, or maybe she’d realized that her best option was to get close to me.
Her motivations didn’t matter to me. Those three days were going to change everything between us.
That afternoon, my hunch was confirmed by another intelligence report. Victor had been meeting Ivy Hart in secret—Isabella's cousin, and best friend. The meetings were terse and public, but they happened steadily and they had meaning.
Everything Isabella kept to herself in the moment, Ivy knew: her thoughts, fears, deep secrets she shared with no one. Victor wasn't just playing with poor Isabella. He was manipulating all her friends.
I called Diablo immediately. "Full surveillance on Ivy Hart. Every meeting, call, text message. I want to know if you are willing to cooperate with her.’
"And if she is?"
"Then Isabella is accused. And my wife’s threats disappear.”
"Understood, Boss."
I wouldn’t budge that evening and we dined in a little private room. I wanted to see Isabella, to find out just what Victor was demanding of her.
“You seem more relaxed this evening,” I said as we dined.
"Do I?"
"Yes. Less... conflicted."
"Maybe I've made some decisions."
"What kind of decisions?"
She hesitated as she took a sip of wine. "About us. About this marriage."
"And what have you decided?"
“That possibly I should leave it and find out.”
The words should have cheered me up, but there was something false about them in her tone.
"What changed your mind?"
"You did. The way you’ve been so patient with me, so sweet. I know I haven’t treated you well.”
"You haven't been unfair. “And you’ve been honest with how you feel about it.
"My feelings have been... complicated."
"And now?"
“Maybe now is the time to uncomplicate them.”
She was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t place. There was something robotic about her words – as if they were scripted.
“Isabella, I want you to know something.”
"What?"
“Whatever happens between us, whoever we become to each other, it must be real. I do not desire duty and obligation. I want real emotions or nothing at all.”
She visibly winced and I confirmed my suspicions about her integrity.
"Of course," she said. “I just wouldn’t have it any other way.”
But I could read in her eyes that she was already working up to give me precisely the kind of audition I’d just claimed I didn’t want.
Isabella and I had strolled to her bedroom door after dinner, as was our custom.
“I’m glad we went, thank you for not talking me out of this,” I told her. “I believe it will be good for us.”
"I think so too."
"Isabella?"
"Yes?"
“No matter what’s getting you down, no matter what has gotten under the skin, just know that you have options. No one can make you do something against your will.”
She gave me a look that was part gratitude and part guilt.
"Thank you, Aaron. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
I hung around in the hall after she closed her door, pondering the upcoming weekend. Isabella was going to use the trip to try to get in my good graces; most likely trying to get whatever it was that Victor wanted. What she didn’t know was that I intended to use that trip to show her precisely who she could trust and who was manipulating her.
In one way or another, Isabella would find out what sort of man Vicore was by Sunday evening. The only question was whether she'd forgive me for being the one to break it.
Diablo texted me one last message: “Meetin' Victor for a high manana with the syndicate northern heads Monday morning. He’s promised them a lot of intel on your activities.”
I smiled grimly. Victor was so sure Isabella would do what he required of her, he was intending to trade on information he didn’t yet have in his possession.
He would be so disappointed.
But the weekend of my life to convince her to truly be mine — before Victor’s desperate obsession endangered her even more.