3

Isabella

No.

Something's wrong.

It feels like there's a dark cloud looming over me, ready to burst into rain at any moment.

No, no, no.

Whatever it is, this ominous presence is coming for me, and I'm powerless to stop it.

It's like there's a chill creeping up my spine, sending shivers down to my core. I've never felt fear like this before.

It's terrifying.

Adding to the chaos, my head feels like a construction site. My skull is throbbing with pain, as if someone is drilling into it.

It would be a relief if it would just stop.

I blink, letting a blinding light sear into my consciousness. What the hell is happening? Why do I feel like I'm enduring the worst hangover of my life, yet I have no recollection of a night out?

In fact... I can't remember how I ended up here.

Despite the discomfort, I push myself into a sitting position, attempting to orient myself. But in this unfamiliar place, it's a struggle.

What in the world?

Why am I in this strange location? It has the atmosphere of a cabin in the woods, a place I wouldn't typically choose for a vacation. This is all so bizarre...

Oh no.

Fragmented memories from the previous night flood back to me like scenes from a movie reel. William Bonell, the man I thought was my friend, who I sought help from, wielding a gun. His gun aimed at me as he insisted I go with him. To protect me... to prevent me from meeting the same fate, or so he claimed. I don't believe that was true, though.

What was all of that about?

Who is he, really?

How does he possess my father's security code?

William Bonell masqueraded as someone he isn't to infiltrate my life, and I can't fathom his motives. One thing is certain: he is not a friend. He's not to be trusted.

With my heart pounding in my throat, I tread cautiously and take a step forward, only to notice a heavy object strapped to my ankle—a monitoring device, perhaps.

The more I struggle to remove it, the tighter it clings to me. Despair washes over me. While my father may be a mob boss, I've deliberately distanced myself from that world to stay safe.

That's why I'm here in New York, to be myself, free from such entanglements.

Or so I thought.

It seems my past, or rather my family's past, has caught up with me regardless.

Gingerly, I approach the door, trying not to be hindered by the monitor on my leg, and run my fingers over the wood. To my astonishment, the door swings open easily.

Why am I not locked in?

It's highly unusual.

With my heart racing, I cautiously venture forward. Part of me expects to be apprehended instantly, yet no one emerges. There are no shouts, no commands, no threats...

What am I doing here?

This place is unfamiliar to me. It resembles someone's family cabin, but it's not mine. Unless it's a safe house owned by my father, of which I'm unaware.

But then, why am I wearing a monitoring device?

Surely, if this were my father's doing, I would have been informed.

I don't know why I'm here, but since the bedroom door opened effortlessly and the front door is within reach...

It doesn't matter if I'm being monitored. If I can run fast enough, I can escape. I can seek help and have this device removed, maybe even involve the police.

I know I shouldn't involve law enforcement in anything... my father has always made that abundantly clear. But then, I never anticipated finding myself in this predicament, did I?

Anticipation mounts as I draw closer to the main door, but hopefully, this feeling is the worst of it. Once the door is open and I make my escape, I won't have time to dwell on such thoughts. I'll have a plan of action.

With trepidation, I extend my hand, half-expecting an assailant to strike me, but since no one materializes, I make contact with the wood...

What begins as a slight tremor in my fingertips escalates rapidly. Before I can comprehend what's happening, it intensifies into a jolt of electricity, a shocking experience that momentarily paralyzes me.

So incapacitated that I can't prevent my body from being thrown backward as if shoved.

I've been electrocuted, and now I'm sprawled on the floor. Hard.

Holy shit, I wasn't prepared for that.

In the midst of my agony, it takes me a moment to collect myself. I prop myself up on my elbows, just as a hand extends toward me. Panic threatens to overwhelm me. Who is this?

Slowly, I raise my gaze to meet the man's. He's shirtless, muscles rippling across his torso, and notably clean-shaven. Yet, I recognize the face instantly. I'd recognize that face anywhere, even if he's shaved.

William.

I shuffle backward, scrutinizing him closely. He's sweaty but no longer disheveled. His appearance has undergone a transformation, but there's no mistaking him.

William Bonell truly had me fooled.

I detest how my mouth dries up, especially as the provocative dream I had about him floods my mind, particularly since he resembles my idealized version of him. I absolutely do not want to entertain any notion of attraction right now. It's ludicrous. This man abducted me and now has me trapped in his cabin... but for what reason?

Well, I'm clueless as to why he brought me here. That's the most frustrating aspect of this ordeal.

"Come on," he says in a much softer tone than the one he used last night when he was barking orders at me relentlessly. "Let me assist you."

I vigorously shake my head. My fight or flight instincts have kicked in, and I need to flee. I make another attempt, bolting for the door, hoping that now that I'm mentally prepared, I can withstand the electric shocks, but no such luck.

The shock hits me just as hard, if not harder, sending me careening backward once more.

There's no escaping this, but I'm not distraught about it. I refuse to break down like a baby. In fact, I'm seething.

"What the hell is going on here, William?" I snap, my voice projecting more strength than I feel inside. I struggle to my feet, feigning toughness, even though he overpowered and abducted me. Even though I know there's a gun somewhere. "Why are you subjecting me to this? I don't understand. I assisted you in the clinic, or so I thought. I guess it was all a ruse, wasn't it? You're aware that my father leads the Irish Mafia, aren't you? This is madness."

But William continues to ignore me. He strides toward the kitchen as if I'd just inquired about breakfast or something.

"Are you even listening to me, William? You can't keep treating me like this..."

He shoots me a menacing glare. "Dominic."

"Huh?" I have to admit, that gives me pause. What is he referring to now?

"My name. It's Dominic Amore."

Dominic Amore?

Well, that's unexpected.

I've grown accustomed to thinking of him as William Bonell, so this revelation is jarring. But I suppose it makes sense that he lied to me since he didn't divulge anything genuine about himself. The beard, the illness, the hardships... it's disconcerting to realize that none of it was true, and I was so thoroughly deceived.

But I won't allow myself to be completely taken in.

"Fine, whatever, Dominic Amore," I retort, waving a dismissive hand. "You still had no right to bring me here, wherever this is. You haven't even bothered to explain what's going on. You stormed into my workplace with a gun, informed me that Chad had been killed, repeated my father's password, and for what? For this?"

I gesture around in frustration. I don't want to be here, with this monitor attached to my leg, staring at the man I thought I knew, who has become a stranger. I earnestly wish I could just close my eyes and awaken in my own bed, with none of this being reality.

I'd even prefer waking up in the clinic and having a few more hours left in my shift than this.

"Are you hungry?"

I blink in surprise. Did he genuinely just ask me that? I'm trying to extract answers from him. Why is he so reluctant to provide any?

"I'm about to cook. Would you like anything, Isabella?"

My stomach growls, betraying me, but I still shake my head in annoyance. "I have no interest in anything prepared by you. You might poison it."

Dominic merely offers me a nonchalant shrug. "It's of no consequence to me what you decide. If you prefer to starve, that's your choice."

I don't know how to react, but it feels like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. All I can do is watch in disbelief as he begins preparing a meal clearly intended for one person: himself. He truly couldn't care less whether I starve or not.

I remain standing where I am for a few moments, basically in shock, while I watch him move around the kitchen with ease. He obviously knows this place well. The so-called homeless man has clearly spent a lot of time here, cooking and living in comfort. Not on the streets like he told me he did when he had me fooled.

But I don’t have time to focus on that.

Not when he’s still topless and his muscles are rippling.

The attraction I didn’t want to feel for William Bonell flows through me.

The desire I definitely shouldn’t feel for my kidnapper, Dominic Amore, surges through me as well. He really does have a body to die for.

I'm fascinated by the tattoos adorning him, as well as the scars scattered across his body in various places. Where did he acquire all of this? What significance does it hold? Who is he, really?

Dominic catches my gaze and raises a knowing eyebrow at me, igniting a blush of embarrassment on my cheeks.

It's bad enough that my body is betraying me; I don't want him to be aware of it.

With an irritated sigh, I storm off, retreating back into the bedroom where I woke up not long ago. All I wanted was to escape this room, but now it feels like the safest place in this cabin. Here, at least, I can collapse onto the bed without his prying eyes on me.

How utterly foolish is fate? How unjust is fate?

Just earlier today, I was devising a plan to flee one prison—the marriage to Risty Falesco Junior and all its implications—and now I find myself in another one.

This time, with the enigmatic Dominic Amore.

How on earth am I going to extricate myself from this situation?