Page 100 of Isaia

Isaia snakes his arm further around me, gripping my hip—a sign of ownership as Anthony’s gaze drops to where Isaia’s hand is.

“Thank you.” I smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It seems the Del Rossas have a way of ensuring everyone who’s anyone shows up, don’t they?” His gaze flicks to Isaia, lingeringfor a moment before returning to me. “But I must say, seeing you here is the highlight of my night.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Isaia beats me to it, his tone edged with something unmistakably territorial. “You’re wasting your time, Paladino.”

Anthony raises a brow, unbothered, his tone calm but pointed. “Just making conversation, Isaia. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

“Not with her, it’s not.”

“Actually, Everly, I was hoping for a moment to talk. Just the two of us.”

“That’s not happening,” Isaia growls.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Anthony snaps, yet his eyes are on me.

I look between the two of them, the weight of Isaia’s hand on my back grounding me while Anthony’s steady, unwavering gaze holds me in place. I clear my throat, summoning as much composure as I can manage.

“It’s okay,” I say quietly, glancing up at Isaia. “Anthony’s my friend.”

Isaia scoffs. “Friends don’t look at friends the way he’s looking at you,” he remarks without taking his eyes off Anthony.

“It’s just a conversation, Isaia,” I say, then turn to Anthony. “Ten minutes. Come on.”

Anthony smiles, then holds out his arm for me to take. It’s a sly move to get under Isaia’s skin, so I grab a glass of champagne from a waiter, pretending to miss the gesture.

I glance back at Isaia, his dark, unforgiving gaze tracking my every step, a storm raging in his eyes. It sends a shiver down my spine, the intensity of his focus like a physical tether pulling me back toward him. Even as I walk away with Anthony, the air around me feels heavy and charged, as if Isaia’s presence is still wrapped around me, a silent, inescapable claim.

Anthony leads me to a quieter corner, his usual charm replaced by something darker. His jaw tightens, and his eyes dart toward Isaia, who watches us like a predator ready to pounce.

When Anthony finally speaks, his tone is low, urgent. “What are you doing with him, Everly? Do you even know what kind of man he is?”

“My personal life is none of your business.” I cross my arms, refusing to let his tone shake me, though the weight of his concern is unsettling.

“How deep are you?”

“What do you mean?”

Concern paints his features. “How deep are you with the Del Rossas? If you’re trapped, I can help you.”

“I’m not?—”

“We can leave right now, and I’ll take you with me back to New York. Keep you safe from that family.”

“What? No.” I frown. “I’m not trapped, Anthony.”

He steps closer, and from the corner of my eye, I see Isaia wanting to rush over, but Alexius places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“Anthony, I’m fine. I don’t need help,” I press.

“Why didn’t you tell me Michele tried to have you kidnapped?”

My heart slams down into the soles of my feet. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“What? Everly, I worry about you every day.”

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