Page 428 of Rosetti Family New York
Christ, she's beautiful when she's scared and dangerous.
"You think I'm Chase's ghost?" Isabella asks, and something in her tone makes my blood quicken. Makes my cock twitch with pride and want. "I'm not. I'm what comes after him."
She doesn't threaten. Doesn't raise her voice. Doesn't need to. The truth hangs in the air like smoke. Isabella Callahan killed the most dangerous man in New York with her bare hands and a borrowed gun. Anyone who thinks she won't do it again is catastrophically stupid.
But I see her chest rise and fall too quickly. See the way she shifts her weight to her left foot, the same unconscious tell she's had since I first took her. She's drowning in adrenaline and terror, and these fucking morons have no idea.
"We'll need details," Pinkerson says carefully, exactly as I predicted. "Percentages. Territory boundaries."
My hands clench into fists. The condescending tone, the way he leans back like he's interviewing her for a job. Every instinct screams at me to put him through the fucking wall. Show him exactly what happens when someone disrespects what's mine.
But Isabella doesn't need me to fight her battles. She needs me to let her win them.
I watch her pulse jump at her throat, the only sign she's rattled. But her voice stays level, deadly calm.
"You'll get them. Same terms Chase offered, with two modifications." She steps forward, and grown men flinch. Christ, she's beautiful when she's dangerous. "First, no more civilian targets. Ever."
"That's going to cost us leverage," Pinkerson objects. "Chase used family pressure to keep people in line."
"Find new leverage." The authority in her voice makes my cock twitch. "Or find new work."
Martinez, the young hothead I warned her about, shifts forward. "With respect, that's not how this business works."
The smart-ass smirk on his face makes my blood boil. My coin flips faster between my fingers, the only outlet for the violence building in my chest. One word from Isabella and I'd break every bone in his fucking face.
But she doesn't need my protection. She needs my restraint.
Isabella's gaze fixes on him with laser precision. "Fear of what? Fear of becoming like Chase? Six bullets in a warehouse, bleeding out alone?"
Fuck me. The way she owns that kill, uses it as a weapon. Plus her blood-soaked clothing. I've never been harder in my life.
Martinez shrinks back, and I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from grinning. That's my queen.
"Second," Isabella continues, and I can see the slight tremor in her hands that these idiots miss completely, "any operation involving trafficking or exploitation of minors ends immediately. Non-negotiable."
Even terrified, even convinced she's poison, she's rewriting the rules to something she can live with. The fierce pride swelling in my chest threatens to crack my ribs.
Volkov, the scarred bastard I described to her, leans forward. "You're gutting our most profitable sectors."
My coin stops flipping. The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. This fucker just argued for child trafficking.
Isabella's voice turns arctic, and the transformation from nervous to lethal makes me want to drop to my knees right here. "Chase is dead. I'm not Chase. And if you think protecting children is sentiment, you're in the wrong room."
The message is clear: argue with her moral lines and you'll end up like Chase. Six bullets and a spreading pool of blood.
She's handling these bastards while scared out of her mind, claiming power through sheer force of will, and it makes me want to fuck her on this table while they watch and understand exactly who owns them now.
I want to fucking worship her. Want to drop to my knees right here in front of these bastards and show them exactly who their new queen is.
"Those are our terms," she says. "Accept them and prosper under Rosetti protection. Reject them and explain to my new family why you're not worth keeping alive."
The young man who challenged her earlier leans back in his chair. "And if we take option three? If we decide we don't like your leadership style?"
My coin stops flipping. The silence in my head is deafening, the kind that comes right before I do something that ends careers. He's pushed too far, challenged her one too many times. The urge to reach across this table and show him exactly what Isabella's "leadership style" looks like when filtered through my fucking fists is overwhelming.
But she doesn't need me to be her sword. She needs me to be her foundation.
Isabella's smile is razor-sharp. I catch the micro-flinch, the way her jaw tightens for just a heartbeat. But her voice stays steady as a blade.
