Page 126 of He Should Be Mine
I shrug. “Your help is quite a prize.”
She regards me for a moment, eyes gleaming like the surface of a blade. The sun glints off her hair, catching on the gold pin securing it behind one ear. Her beauty is precise. Executed. Even in silence, she commands attention like royalty.
She continues to examine me closely, intently. It’s a dark look that doesn’t match the late summer sun or the Astro turf of this fancy rooftop garden.
Then, softly, dangerously, she says, “I don’t want to be your wife.”
Her words drop like lead. Smashing through my calm. Shattering the foundation of my plan. Splintering my hope and destroying my dreams.
I need her on board. She’s an important lynchpin. Without Isabella, the entire thing risks falling apart.
“I want a seat at your table,” she continues.
I blink. The wind shifts, rustling through the vines trained up the railing. She’s still watching me, like a queen studying a knight before moving him across the board.
“A seat in your own right,” I say slowly. “Not as a wife.”
She inclines her head.
I take a swallow of my drink, ice scraping against my teeth. “I’m not sure the mafia is ready for that.”
“That’s not my concern.” Her voice is calm. “Make them be ready. The Irish have already done it. The Japanese are close. Most of the Triads think we’re primitives for keeping women out of power. Plenty within the family are itching for change. They just need a man brave enough to let it happen.”
I stare at her. She’s no fool, she knows the storm she’s proposing. But she isn’t flinching. She’s already ten steps ahead, already imagining herself at the table, dressed in power, sharpening her nails on the bones of the old regime.
She sets her glass down gently. Her red nail polish glints against the crushed ice in her drink. “We could be a revolution, Dario. Together.”
I stare at her, but she is not looking at me now. Her eyes are fixed on the view, giving me time to think.
I like the picture she is painting, but it is very optimistic. I’m not sure I can wield that much influence. People are not going to sit meekly by and allow me to make sweeping changes to everything they have ever known.
My thoughts whirl. She tucks a strand of hair back. There is a slight tell in the barely there tremble of her hand. She is more nervous than she is letting on. And she knows she has planted a seed in my mind.
She’s always been good at that. She never argues. Never insists. She simply presents the idea and waits for it to take root and flourish.
God help me, I’m already tempted. A woman at the table in her own right. The heir married to a man. The Ajello Family brought into the twenty-first century. It’s a future worth dreaming about.
Isabella knows I’d like her vision. But I can’t let her get too comfortable. Not yet. Not until I’m sure of her.
I meet her eyes. “Stop drugging Riccardo, and I’ll consider it.”
She makes a noise, not a scoff, not quite a laugh. A low, displeased sound. “That’s not your business.”
My heart pounds. I think I need to play a card here. It’s a huge risk, but I think it might work.
“There is no point to any of this if he kills Molly before I can get him out.” My voice is flat. Cold. Hiding the gamble.
Her dark eyes flash up to mine. Surprise. Satisfaction. Maybe even a touch of admiration. She wasn’t expecting the confession, but she likes it. My weakness is her leverage.
“I always suspected you were a good man, Dario.”
I huff out a breath. “Don’t give me too much credit.” But if it helps, she can believe whatever she wants to believe.
She sighs, long and thoughtful. “Fine. I’ll stop. Call it a goodwill gesture.”
I nod, though my stomach twists.
She leans in, lowering her voice. “But don’t keep me waiting, Dario. I’m not a patient woman.”
