Chapter 5 - Caught In The Rain
The kiss tasted of dark espresso, rain, and electric danger.
Richi pulled Isa flush against his chest, his powerful arms wrapping around her waist as if anchoring himself to something real amidst a world of blood and betrayal. Isa gasped into his mouth, her hands instinctively clutching at the fabric of his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of muscle beneath. Every rational thought warned her that this man was a ruthless criminal who had held her father's debts over her head, but the raw warmth of his lips made her blood sing.
When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his breath was coming in ragged gasps.
""This is a mistake,"" Richi murmured, though his grip on her waist did not loosen by an inch.
""You started it,"" Isa whispered, her lips swollen, her hazel eyes searching his face.
A rare, genuine chuckle escaped Richi’s chest—a sound so deep and rich it transformed his severe features into breathtaking beauty. ""You really have no survival instincts, do you?""
Before she could answer, Marco reappeared at the kitchen doorway, cleared his throat awkwardly, and averted his eyes. ""Boss. We have a situation at the secondary estate in Greenwich. Salvatore's associates just mobilized two vans. They suspect he’s been compromised.""
The warmth vanished from Richi’s face, replaced instantly by the cold, lethal composure of the Don. He released Isa smoothly, stepping back into the shadows of the room.
""Move my father to the safe bunker beneath the wine cellar,"" Richi ordered without looking back. ""Double the exterior guards. Nobody enters or leaves these grounds without my retinal scan.""
""And the girl?"" Marco asked quietly.
Richi turned his gaze onto Isa. Her cheeks were still flushed, her hair tumbling loose over her shoulders. ""She stays in the master suite. On the third floor.""
Isa blinked in surprise. ""Mr. Valente, my room is in the servant's quarters—""
""The servants' wing has three ground-floor windows and only one emergency exit,"" Richi cut her off coldly, buttoning his suit jacket. ""The master suite has bulletproof steel shutters and direct access to my private armory. You will stay there until I return.""
""Richi,"" she called out, stopping him just as he reached the threshold.
He paused, looking over his broad shoulder.
""Be careful,"" she said softly.
A faint, dangerous smirk touched the corner of his lips. ""They should be the ones praying, Isa.""
Four hours passed like an eternity.
Upstairs in Richi’s cavernous bedroom, Isa paced across the dark hardwood floors. The room was immaculate and smelled heavily of him—sandalwood, leather, and quiet authority. A king-sized bed dominated the center, covered in dark charcoal linens. Books on classical history and military strategy lined the walls, contrasting sharply with the cold steel gun safe built into the corner.
Outside, the storm intensified into a torrential downpour. Thunder rattled the reinforced glass panes, shaking the estate to its foundation.
Suddenly, a sharp pop echoed from the garden below, followed by the muffled screech of car tires tearing across wet gravel.
Isa ran to the terrace window. Through the rain-slicked darkness, she saw muzzle flashes near the outer greenhouse. Two armed figures were moving rapidly toward the back entrance of the main house. The guards had been drawn toward the front gates, leaving the conservatory vulnerable.
She didn't stop to think.
Remembering what Richi had taught his father about the estate’s security panels, Isa darted toward the hallway. If those men breached the lower terrace, they would cut off the power grid to the wine cellar bunker where Matteo was resting.
She flew down the back staircase, her bare feet making almost no sound on the runner rugs. She reached the conservatory just as the glass French doors shattered inward under a heavy crowbar.
A drenched man in a tactical vest stepped through the glass, raising a submachine gun.
""Clear the hall—"" he began, but Isa didn't wait.
Grabbing a heavy marble bust of Caesar from an ornamental pedestal, she hurled it with both arms directly at his chest. The heavy stone struck him hard, knocking the wind out of him as his gun clattered across the wet tiles.
The second intruder lunged through the doorway, grabbing Isa by her hair and slamming her against the wall. Pain exploded behind her eyes.
""Little bitch!"" the man snarled, raising a combat knife to her throat. ""Tell us where the old man is, or I'll carve you into pieces!""
""She doesn't know,"" a voice boomed from the rain outside.
The intruder froze.
A single deafening gunshot tore through the conservatory. The man holding Isa collapsed instantly, falling like a sack of stones onto the shattered glass.
Richi stepped through the broken doors from the pouring rain, his coat soaked black, his gun smoking in his gloved hand. Water dripped from his dark hair into his blazing eyes.
""Isa!"" he shouted, throwing his weapon aside as he caught her slumping body before she hit the floor.
He dropped to his knees in the puddles of rain and glass, pulling her tightly against his drenched chest. His hands were frantic, checking her neck, her face, her ribs. ""Are you hit? Look at me, Isa! Look at me!""
""I'm fine,"" she coughed, wincing at the bruise forming on her jaw. ""I... I threw Caesar at the other one.""
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Richi let out a shuddering breath that sounded almost like a sob. He pulled her head against his neck, his soaked clothes chilling her skin, but his embrace hotter than an inferno.
""You stupid, brave woman,"" he muttered against her damp curls, his voice cracking with an emotion he had never shown to another human being. ""I thought I lost you.""
