Page 30 of Relentless Refuge

22

ISABELLA

At home in our bedroom, I watch as Marco exchanges one set of slacks for another and kisses me goodbye. I’m frustrated that he won’t tell me what sort of business it is he’s attending to this evening, but I can’t blame him. I haven’t told him I’m planning a family meeting this evening, nor have I told him about the child growing in my womb. Every marriage has its secrets, right? And this one is no exception.

In fact, this one may be the rule. Two Syndicate Families united in marriage are bound to keep secrets from one another. Nicky would never allow me to give up information on our other business practices outside of gun smuggling, at least not until our marriage has stood the test of time. So, I have to be okay with Marco doing business under the cover of darkness without telling me where he’s going. Especially if I’m going to expect him to turn a blind eye to my clandestine Family meetings.

I slip out of my sex-soiled dress and shower. Dinner is staying down for the most part, though I feel nauseous. Marco was right to order me something with only a slight chance of upsetting my stomach. For a moment, I fear maybe he knows I’m pregnantand that’s why he’s done that, but there is no way he could know short of having dug through the trash. I can't see a man of his stature having done that, though I don’t put it past his staff to have been snooping on me. Still, if he knows, he’s very good at hiding it.

Once the sex is washed off my body and out of my hair, I towel off and pad into the bedroom, selecting a simple pair of jeans and a Polo shirt. It’s warm enough to go without a jacket this evening, though I choose one, anyway. With damp hair, I’ll feel colder, and outside the city on the farm where I plan to meet my Family, it will feel even more chilly.

As I dress, I think of Owen and Chase and their rebellion against me as their leader. They’re young and ambitious, and maybe they think they should have been chosen to lead. Who would choose them, anyway? My father is gone. My brother, the rightful heir, is with him on the other side, and my father trusted my mother’s brother more than his own. Nicolo would never have been accepted as their leader, which would only have caused the same uprising.

Not even Mom would have been wanted. I am the only one who can do this job. Not only is it in my blood, but some secrets are only known by me and Nicolo, and a few of them still only by him. He will never usurp my authority nor my father’s, so it’s left to me. And if not me, then Nicky will die trying to preserve my father’s wishes, that certain things never leave the knowledge of his direct bloodline.

I rise, having laced up my boots, and slide my arms into the sleeves of my jacket. I send a text message to Uncle Nicky to come for me and then head downstairs. My hair, still damp, leaves me on the cold side, which I expected, and I breeze toward the front door with only one thing on my mind. I have to unitemy family once and for all this evening and order them to band together with Marco’s men to stand against our enemy. Because whether we like it or not, his enemy is now our enemy, even if I break the agreement and end the marriage.

“Mrs. Romano, good evening,” I hear. It’s a husky male voice coming from the shadows at the end of the hall. A light comes on, illuminating the man’s face. I don’t know all of their names, but I have seen him around. He’s one of Marco’s security detail.

“Hello, I’m headed out this evening. Please send word to my husband that I'll be home later, probably after midnight. I have some business to attend to.”

Moving toward the door in confidence, I take my purse from the stand in the hallway, and I’m surprised to see him step into the center of the hallway. I’m closed in on both sides. The den and living room pocket doors are shut. My throat constricts as I realize this feels a lot like a wooden tomb, walled in and staring down a man three times my size. His barrel chest puffs out as his shoulders square and he shakes his head.

“I’m under strict instructions to keep you here. We’ve been given orders by the man himself.” The guard sets his jaw, and I see the fine lines around his lips as they purse in concentration. His biceps are as thick as my thighs. There is no way I’m going to go around him. I don’t know exactly how far he’d go to restrain me here, but I don’t want to give him a reason to need physical force.

“Apologies, Mr.…?”

“Call me Warren.”

“Warren,” I say, smiling. “I am just going to visit my mother. Surely, you understand she is mourning and feels alone this evening.” The lies are easier now the more I offer them. Warrenis a nobody. I can lie to him and not feel guilty, though the idea that he’ll report that back to Marco and it will still be a lie then does make me twinge with guilt.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Romano. I can’t allow you to leave. It’s for your own protection.”

Protection?I think. If Marco thinks he can imprison me in this castle he calls a home, he has another thing coming. I am not his object to be stored away under lock and key, and I am not his possession at all. I am the Donna of a major criminal organization. One call to my Family for support will send a flurry of my own men bombarding this house and getting me out. But I keep my facial expression calm and my poise intact.

“I understand completely. Then perhaps you’ll escort me to my mother’s?” I have no intention of going to or staying at my mother’s, but at least there I’d have the sleight of hand, a moment of distraction to slip into the night away from overly eager eyes.

“I’ll have to call Mr. Romano to find out?—”

“That won’t be necessary,” I interrupt. The last thing I want is for Marco to come rushing home to escort me himself. I could just call him and tell him what I’m doing, but I can’t have him or his men following me.

The last meeting was so charged with tension, I know if he shows up or even his men, it will devolve into all-out anarchy. They already think Marco is taking over. He cannot come to our Family meetings, and I have to be seen as capable without him. The arrangement seemed logical to begin with, his backing to make sure my Family stayed in check, but even after those few close calls, I know it has backfired in ways.

“I’ll just retire to my room, then. I’ll take a bit of chamomile tea in one hour, and please give me privacy until then. I will call my mom to keep her company.” Trying my hardest to sound sure of myself and unfussed, I turn and head back up the hallway. I won’t miss the Family meeting for any reason, not even this one. Marco can’t keep me here, and I don’t even know why he’s trying.

Whatever this business is he’s tending right now has me wondering if the two are connected. Why would he make his men lock me up and detain me for my “own safety”? What is so dangerous tonight that wasn’t dangerous yesterday? It has to have something to do with the reason he refuses to tell me what he’s doing.

I climb the stairs and shut myself into the bedroom, then send Uncle Nicky a new text message telling him to meet me on the backside of the estate one block away. If they won’t let me walk out the back door, I will find my own way out.

I move swiftly to the window, prying it open. The night air is cool but humid, the type of moisture that clings to everything, making every surface feel slippery and wet. I lean out, breathing in the air. It smells like rain tonight, which means I’m going to get wet, but I don’t even think of heading down for the umbrella stowed away on a hook by the front door.

My eyes scan across the back lawn, stretching out for thirty yards before being hedged in by pine trees and a wrought-iron fence beyond that. There is no gate that I can recall, though I’ve only walked the back yard twice, and only during the day. But it’s my only way out, and after this demonstration of how Marco seizes control, I may not come back. This child inside me will be mine to raise, and I have a feeling that if I remain here, Marco’s control will reach beyond limits I’m comfortable with.

Looking down, I see the cement patio and barbecue area. There isn’t a chance in hell I can jump and not injure myself. I’m pregnant, too, which makes it even riskier, so I can’t just leap out the window the way I would if I were a child or reckless. But only a few meters down the back wall of the house is the awning that shades the back door of the house, stretching out over part of the patio where we sit and sip tea in the evening sometimes.

The bathroom light is on, the window right above the patio streaming light out in a rectangle that appears as a finger of light from the heavens. I can squeeze out the bathroom window and drop to the awning, then slide down the awning onto the edge of the stone oven where we cook wood-fired pizzas. The plan comes together in my mind as I snatch the blankets off the bed and head for the bathroom.

To ensure no one sees the shadow and comes to investigate, I turn off the bathroom light and let my eyes adjust. There is so little light outside thanks to the cloud cover that I feel certain I can sneak away and no one will see me. So, I toss one blanket out onto the metal awning so my feet don’t make too loud a sound when I drop, and I drape the other across the windowsill to avoid scratching my sides as I climb out.

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