Page 1 of His to Hold

CHAPTER 1

Antonio

Something has changed. The house doesn’t look the same as it did the last time I was here. The décor is different. It’s fresher, brighter. In the corridor, the floorboards have been stripped back to reveal a natural, pale wood. The walls have been painted an off-white color. They were gray before. Or were they blue? I don’t know why I care. It shouldn’t matter to me that the place feels more welcoming now than it did before. A prickle of envy shouldn’t stab my chest at the thought of my errant wife putting our marriage behind her and finding peace when I haven’t moved on. I shouldn’t wish we’d made this home together. A man in my position can’t afford to be sentimental.

As I walk into the living room, I realize it’s been decorated, too. There are new pink and cream throws on the sofa. I don’t recognize the floral armchair by the fireplace. It’s not my style, but it fits the room perfectly. A white fleecy blanket is draped over the back of the chair, probably more for comfort than warmth since it’s the middle of summer. A tattered paperback lies on the seat. Cherished Bride. I almost laugh. Isabella always enjoyed a good love story. How sad for her that ours was not one.

The image of domesticity the room conjures up is a perfect reflection of the woman I married. Isabella loved to read. She was more of a stay-at-home type than me, but that was part of the appeal. Even before I considered her as a bride, I thought she’d make someone an excellent wife and mother. I can’t believe I was so wrong about her.

There’s nobody in the living room, so I head back out into the corridor and work my way through the house until I eventually find my younger brother, Leo, in the kitchen. Like me and our siblings, he’s taller than average, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Usually a fan of dress pants and tailored shirts, Leo is wearing jeans and a Henley, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Leaning back against the countertop, he has a cup of coffee in one hand and a Danish pastry in the other. He’s stuffing his face as if there isn’t a dead body lying at his feet.

“You’re getting crumbs on the corpse,” I tell him as I glance down at the man I entrusted with my treacherous wife’s care. His face is a mangled mess and his sandy blond hair is matted with congealed blood. Fuck! I’ve known Rico Mancini since high school, but I wouldn’t have recognized him if Leo hadn’t told me who’d been killed.

“Oh, no! Am I messing up the crime scene?” Leo’s tone drips with sarcasm. “Will the crumbs confuse the CSIs?”

My shoulders tense. My brother can be an irreverent fucker. He knows my issue is not with him contaminating a crime scene. Law enforcement will not be setting foot on this or any other property I own. Not unless they bring the fucking National Guard with them.

“A man is dead. Show some respect.”

“You sure this asshole deserves respect?” Leo gestures toward Rico with the hand that’s holding the pastry. Even more crumbs rain down on the body.

“He worked for the family for more than a decade. He was a loyal soldier.”

It’s more than can be said for a lot of the men who previously worked under my father. When I inherited the crown six years ago, I’d just turned twenty-five. Some of the old guard thought I was too young. They didn’t believe me capable of leading the family and tried to undermine my authority. A few even defected to our rivals. I dealt with every one of the traitors, of course, but it was a bloody and exhausting exercise. Rico’s family members were among the few who never wavered from their oath of loyalty to the Volantes.

“Was he?” Leo sets what remains of his pastry down on the marble countertop next to him. He drains the last of his coffee from the cup and puts it aside. “You don’t think he betrayed you? Your orders were for him to protect Isabella, but he must have done something to provoke her into violence. Or perhaps you imagined she developed psychopathic tendencies overnight and attacked him for fun?”

No, that is definitely not what I thought. Isabella might have set me up to get shot, but murder someone in cold blood? No, I don’t believe she’s capable of that. In fact, when Leo made his second call to me when I was on my way here, I was shocked to hear she’d killed a man. As Leo says, Rico must have made her lash out. Whatever he did, he obviously crossed a line, going against my orders to treat her well.

“Do you know what happened?”

Leo shakes his head. “Haven’t watched the footage yet. Best I can tell, Isabella whacked him a couple of times. She dialed 911 and my guys picked up the call.”

I’m glad I had Leo overseeing Isabella’s captivity. He can be a pain in the ass, but in protecting our family’s interests, he’s a total professional. He runs a tight ship and the team he has working for him is second to none.

If Isabella had somehow reached the cops, she’d be in a whole different world of trouble right now. While I might have persuaded the authorities to back off from investigating her, there’s no way I could make this right with Rico’s family. If they ever find out what she did, they’ll want her head on a silver platter. They won’t give a shit that she’s the boss’s wife.

I look down at my dead soldier again and grimace. Violence is part of my everyday life. It’s in my DNA. Yet something about this scene disturbs me. Perhaps it’s because Isabella did this. I can’t believe the woman I’ve known since she was just a child is capable of such savagery.

“What the hell did she hit him with?” It must have been something heavy to inflict that much damage.

Leo tilts his head toward the sink, which sits beneath the window that looks out onto the beach. There’s a long black handle sticking out of it.

“Who’d have thought it? The first time your wife picks up a skillet, she uses it to bash her guard’s face in.”

“Isabella’s an excellent cook,” I mutter needlessly.

Leo chuckles, but I don’t share his amusement. There is nothing remotely funny about this situation. My wife’s actions have caused a massive headache for me and may have put her in danger.

“Where is she now?”

“Bedroom. She freaked out when I got here, so I sent her to lie down.”

“Good.” It’s probably best to give Isabella a wide berth until she’s had a chance to calm down and I’ve decided what I’m going to do with her.

As Leo stares at me, waiting for further instruction, I scan the room. My eye snags on a painting on the wall by the pantry. The foreground is a cornfield and in the distance there’s a red barn. It’s not the sort of picture I’d expect to find in the kitchen of a beach house.

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