Page 62 of Isaia

“We’re talking,” he snaps, his tone sharp, leaving no room for argument.

The door shuts with a heavy thud, and Isaia turns to face me, his dark eyes blazing. The intensity in his stare pins me in place, a mix of anger, possession, and something far more dangerous simmering beneath the surface.

“Start talking, Everly,” he says, his voice quiet but no less commanding. “Now.”

Chapter 19

ISAIA

Idon’t like the look on her face—secrets and shadows written into every delicate line. Her eyes, those perfectly imperfect irises, flicker with conflict. She’s wrestling with something, and every instinct I have tells me I’m not going to like where this is headed.

“Talk.” My tone is low, rough. Threatening.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” There’s a tremor in her voice, and my fists clench.

“You’re keeping something from me, Everly. And you’re going to tell me what the fuck it is.”

Her arms cross over her chest, her chin lifting in defiance. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

I’m on her in a heartbeat, my hand gripping her jaw, fingers pressing firmly but not enough to hurt.

“Tread real fucking lightly, woman.” The warning vibrates between us, and I let go, my hand dropping away, but my eyes stay locked on her. “Now, talk.”

There’s a heartbeat of hesitation before she finally says, “Anthony’s a friend. You heard him. He just came to check on me after the news of my mother.”

A sharp, humorless laugh escapes me. “A friend? Anthony fucking Paladino is a friend?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re telling me he crossed state lines, walked into my city, just to check in on you?” I lean in, crowding her space, my body a looming wall of heat. “This is the part where I caution you not to fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, Isaia. I have no reason to.”

My hands find her shoulders, and I push her down into the leather chair, my grip firm but not harsh. I lean forward, my palms flat on the armrests, boxing her in.

“You’re going to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on. No more secrets, no more half-truths, and definitely no more dodging my questions with vague bullshit.”

“It’s not?—”

“You’re not leaving this chair until I get answers. Do not fuck with me, Everly.”

Her bottom lip trembles and her eyes glisten with tears she’s clearly fighting to hold back. For a second, it tugs at something deep inside me, but I can’t let it soften my edge. Not now.

“I didn’t want this,” she whispers, her gaze falling to her lap. “You. Anthony. Any of this.”

“You think I want this?” I growl, leaning in close enough that my breath fans over her cheek. “My life has been nothing butcomplications since I met you. Now I’ve got two of the most powerful New York families circling my city, and every single sign points back to you. Rinaldi shows up out of nowhere. Paladino acts like he owns a piece of you.”

Her breath catches, and I can see her defenses crumbling. She’s close to breaking, and I press harder.

“Tell me, Everly. Why is Rinaldi on you like a goddamn vulture? Why do you hate him so much? And why the fuck is Paladino acting like he has some claim on you?”

“Because I’m supposed to marry him!”

The words hit like a gunshot, and for a second, the air freezes.

“What did you just say?”

Her tear-filled eyes meet mine, and her voice cracks as she repeats it. “Michele wants me to marry Anthony. He’s been trying to force it since I turned eighteen.”

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