Page 19 of Isaia

There’s interested, and then there’sinterested.Isaia? He’s just too interested, and I’m not sure I trust it. I can’t afford to—not if he was sent to find me.

“My friend seems to think you’re trouble,” I say, deflecting. “Are you?”

A shadow crosses his face, dark and dangerous. “Depends on what you consider trouble.”

“I consider intimidating men who wear leather jackets and suck up all the oxygen when they walk into a room to be the kind of danger they warn you about in thrillers—you know, the part where every instinct says ‘run,’ but you’re too damn curious to move.”

“Is that your way of saying you find me intriguing?”

“That’s my way of saying I don’t make a habit of sticking around to see how it ends.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t usually end well for girls like me.”

He slants a brow. “Girls like you?”

“Girls who attract trouble.”

“And what makes you think you attract trouble, Everly Beaumont?” Isaia's voice washes over me in an intoxicating wave. There’s a beat, a moment when our gazes are locked, the café buzz fading into the background.

“Experience,” I respond simply, looking away from him and back to my cooling coffee. “And men who like calling me by my first and last name are usually trouble. Plus, there’s my friend who’s still telepathically warning me to stay away from you.”

“Your friend doesn’t know me.”

“I have a feeling the entire city knows you…Isaia Del Rossa.”

I don’t miss how his eyes narrow a little, the slight surprise that settles on his dark brows. He wasn’t expecting me to know hisfull name, which is weird because evidently everyone knows who he is—except me.

Maybe I shouldn’t stick around.

“Well, thank you for the coffee.” I get up and smile. Even if he’s a man with ill intentions, everyone deserves a smile now and then. “I’ll see you around.”

“Definitely,” he replies, and I hear the promise in that one single word.

As I walk out, I can practically feel his eyes on me with every step I take.

Clearly, the Del Rossa name means something in this town, and I need to either pack my shit and leave or find out exactly who Isaia Del Rossa is.

Chapter 6

ISAIA

“Her name’s Everly Beaumont,” Maximo says, sliding a folder across the table.

“I know.”

“Her mother is Elizabeth.” He pauses, savoring the drama. “Elizabeth Rinaldi.”

Alexius curses aloud while my mind lights up with f-bombs like a Fourth of July fireworks show.

“As in Michele Rinaldi?” I ask, even though his expression is confirmation enough.

Maximo nods then pulls out a cigarette, lighting it.

“Fuck me,” I mutter.

Rinaldi is one of the five leading Cosa Nostra families in New York City. Also, the worst.

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