Page 50 of Isaia

“That makes two of us.” I pour myself another glass, and the bourbon slides down easier this time, though it does nothing to untangle the knots in my chest.

Maximo’s eyes stay on me, sharp and probing. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches like he’s peeling back layers, trying to see what’s underneath.

“What?” I snap, slamming the glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary.

He tilts his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “How deep are you with this girl?”

Last night, I was real fucking deep. Balls deep. But that’s not what he’s asking. “None of your business.”

Maximo raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he’s fighting back a knowing smile. “That’s an answer all on its own.”

“Drop it.”

He doesn’t. “Is she a complication?”

I lean forward, bracing my hands on the table. “You think I’d let her distract me from what needs to be done?”

Maximo shrugs, unbothered by the tension crackling in the air. “I think she’s got her hooks in you. And when a woman sinks her hooks in deep, it’s only a matter of time before things start to spiral.”

I glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s been a part of this family long enough to know when to push and when to back off. Apparently, he thinks this is the time to push.

“She’s not a complication,” I say through gritted teeth. “She’s a priority. There’s a difference.”

Maximo leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. “If you say so.”

“I do.” I grab the bottle, pouring another drink. It seems getting drunk is on the agenda today. “Everly’s caught in the middle of something, and until we figure out why, she’s under my protection.”

“Under your protection?” His eyes widen. “Christ, Isaia. You sound like you’re declaring war over her.”

War. Armageddon. Bloodshed. “Maybe I am.”

Maximo lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “This girl’s got you twisted, man. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I don’t know what the fuck Rinaldi’s up to, but what I do know is that Everly’s innocent in all this. The girl I pulled out of that restaurant last night was shattered because her mom used her recent cancer diagnosis to manipulate Everly into facing the man she clearly hates with a blinding, goddamn passion. So tell me, what the hell am I supposed to do? Sit back and watch?”

Maximo pulls a palm down his face. “I’m just saying, for a guy who doesn’t do attachments, you sure as hell sound attached.”

“It’s not about that,” I growl.

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Look, I’m not judging. Hell, maybe you need this. But you need to be smart about it. Rinaldi’s making moves, and we’re sitting here trying to piece it all together. You can’t afford to let your emotions get in the way. We don’t even know for sure whether we can trust her.”

“I trust her.” The words just roll out, like they've been trapped in me, waiting to be spoken aloud. “I really fucking trust her, Maximo. Don’t ask me why or how. I just do.”

A heavy silence drops around us like an invisible veil, masking the air with a tension that could cut through steel. Maximo stares at me, his eyes sharp as shards of glass—probing, questioning, considering.

He sighs. “Did you ask her about her relationship with Rinaldi?”

“She’s not talking,” I answer simply. “But it’s clear she hates the man.”

“And she won’t tell you why?”

I shake my head. “I’ve asked, and she refuses to give me a straight answer. Fucking stubborn woman.”

Maximo’s phone vibrates, drawing his attention, but my mind drifts elsewhere, pulled under by the vivid, all-consuming memory of her.

The soft moans that rolled off her lips, each sound a plea and a command all at once. The way her body moved as I tongue-fucked that beautiful cunt of hers. She was so unsure yet so damn eager, like she was discovering herself in my hands. Her hesitant yet hungered touch, the way she clung to me like I was her lifeline.

It’s that inexperience, that untouched vulnerability, that made her fucking perfect. The way she surrendered—body trembling, lips parted, eyes wide as if she were both terrified and exhilarated—did something to me. Something dark. Something that isn’t letting go. An angel ensnared with a devil like me.

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