Savage Mafia King (Vicious Heirs #3)

Chapter Six—Isabella

"I just don't know," I confess to Martha as I flop down on her couch and run my hands through my hair.

"Okay but just tell me about it from the top," she says as she joins me, handing me a coffee.

I got back late from the event with Marcus the night before, and I'm still trying to shake the enormity of everything that happened. I'm not sure if I should be pissed or turned on by the way he kissed me, but I'm dealing with a mix of both right now.

Which is why I'm with Martha, my second-in-command at the sorority, who has always been my trusted advisor when it comes to any matter of social capital. I'm in her room in the Greek house, the familiar smell of her linen-scented candle wafting through the air along with the fresh pot of coffee she brewed downstairs.

"I... I don't even know," I admit. "I thought I was in control of everything, but that kiss..." I trail off, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples.

I can feel her looking at me, and I can almost see the concerned grimace on her face.

"I mean, I thought you were crazy, getting involved with someone like Marcus," she tells me finally as she reaches to give my knee a squeeze. "Don't get me wrong, he's hot, but he's all kinds of trouble. All kinds that I don't want anything to do with. And I didn't think you would, either, but..."

"But I need to keep my family safe," I finish up for her.

After my first outing with Marcus at the fundraiser, I had to come clean with her about what's been going on between us. If there's anyone I can trust with the truth, it's her. She'll take my secrets to the grave, and I need someone to talk to about all of this if I'm going to be able to keep my head.

"But I thought it was just an act. I didn't realize you actually... you know, had feelings for him..."

"I don't!" I exclaim. "Well, at least, I think I don't. He just... he just kissed me, that's all. I don't think it's a big deal..."

"Did you like it?"

I bite my lip. I can still remember the look in his eyes the moment before he planted his mouth to mine, the way he stared at me like he wanted to take a bite out of me for talking back to him like that. No doubt he's used to the women around him bowing to his will and doing just about anything he asks, but that's not me, and it's never been me.

But if that's his way of putting me back in my place... then we're going to have some trouble. Because I liked it way more than I know I should have.

"You did, didn't you?" she gasps, leaning toward me with her eyes wide. "Look at you, you're blushing!"

"No, I'm not!" I protest, but when I lift my hand to my cheeks, I find that they're warm.

Crap.

I don't want to admit it, but the kiss was seriously sexy. I've never been kissed like that before in my life, and the intensity of it has already burned itself into my brain.

And has me craving more.

"Are you going to hook up with him? Go real method acting with all of this?"

"Of course not!"

"Why not?" she replies with a shrug. "I mean, if the chemistry's there and you're pretending to do all of this anyway..." She trails off, letting that hang in the air between us.

"I'm not going to hook up with him."

The words are blunt, but if she thinks I'm stupid enough to let something like that happen, she's got another thing coming. I might not have the clearest idea of how I'm going to move forward with all of this, but I'm damn sure that I'm not going to allow something like that to go down.

She holds her hands up. "I'm just saying. Maybe it would do you good to have some guy to blow off steam with. I haven't heard you talk about a guy since... well, in forever, actually." She eyes me for a long moment, then poses the question. "You have been with a guy before, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course I have!" I exclaim, almost a little offended that she would think I hadn't been intimate with someone before.

"Hey, hey, you can't blame me for asking," she laughs. "I think you're about the only one of the Terminas who hasn't shown off some footballing boyfriend at one time or another."

"I'm just a little more careful about who I choose."

"So you've decided to go with someone like Marcus?" she remarks, slightly incredulous. "Someone with a reputation for running illegal boxing nights and gambling clubs? That sounds like a better choice?"

"It's not like that," I protest. "I keep telling you, it's all an act. As soon as I'm sure I've convinced people to steer clear of my brother and our family in general, then I'm going to be done with him. Just like that. No questions asked."

"Hmm."

She lets that hang in the air between us. I almost want to argue with her, but it's clear she's got it into her head that I'm going to have some torrid romance with Marcus.

"What?"

"Just... I don't think I've ever heard you this passionate about a guy before. That's all."

"It's not passion. It's... it's something else."

"Something like?"

"I don't know yet. But you'll be the first to know when I find out."

She nudges me playfully. "I just think you deserve to have some fun, Isabella. It's senior year. You're supposed to enjoy yourself, right?"

I sigh. I think she's right, but I've never been that good at switching off and just letting things happen. Every detail of my life has unfolded in the way it has because that's how I wanted it to happen, and I'm not going to ease up on that any time soon. No, as I close in on my final semester, I want to stay more in control than ever. I want to make it so everything runs exactly as it's supposed to—my family life, my college work, the sorority, all of it.

And that does not include falling for Marcus. No fucking way.

"Shit, speaking of college," I remark, "I need to go back to my penthouse and grab some stuff for my seminar this afternoon. Rain check on the coffee?"

"You know I'll always have a pot ready for you."

I lean over to give her a quick hug, grateful that I have someone who is able to actually talk to me about all of this without freaking out. So many people would treat this part of my life like something to be scared of, but Martha just takes it all in stride.

"Thanks, babe. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

I leave and drive across town to my penthouse, dashing up the stairs to find the project I've been working on for one of the seminars that leads up to my final dissertation. I'm planning on doing a piece on how abortion rights correlated with the rise of women's suffrage in Europe, and I have a whole timeline made up. I just need to find it and show it to my professor.

Just before I push the key into the lock, my instincts warn me that something is wrong. As I look at the door, it hits me—it's open. A few inches, but still, it's open. Fuck. Did I leave the place unlocked? I'm sure I didn't, I'm always careful with this stuff.

Slowly, as though waiting for someone to spring out of the shadows and leap on me, I nudge the door open with my foot. I don't know what I'm expecting to see on the other side—but it's sure as hell not what actually greets me.

"What the fuck?" I mutter to myself as I step inside and cast my gaze around the mess that used to be my penthouse.

Couches are overturned, the coffee table has been tossed against the wall, and I can see, even from here, that a few cupboards have been thrown open in the kitchen, their contents spilled onto the counters below.

Who the… what the...

I make my way through the penthouse, picking my way through the chaos, so shocked I can't take any of it in. Who would have done something like this? Are they still here?

I grab a knife from the kitchen and call out into the penthouse, warning anyone who might still be in there that I'm armed and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make them pay. I stalk from room to room, waiting to find the perpetrator, but the place is empty and quiet. Whoever did this, they're long gone by now.

Marcus?

It couldn't have been, could it? No way. No way would he have done something like this. Unless he really does believe I might have been the one who stole from him. Or if he's pissed at me for rejecting his kiss.

My stomach twists in my guts at the thought of it, at the thought of him walking through this place and destroying the home that I've made for myself here.

Finally, I spot something on my pillow, a scrap of paper, just like the one that was waiting for me at my door the other night. I've been so busy with everything that's been going on that I've hardly had time to think about it. I thought it was nothing more than some crank trying to get to me. But this? This is different. This is far, far worse. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified as I picked up the note, put down the knife, and read what was scrawled on it.

This is just the beginning.

I sink down onto the edge of the bed, my hands trembling helplessly. What the fuck does that mean? The beginning of what? I don't understand. I flip it over, searching for something else, anything else to make sense of this, but I can't find anything. I don't recognize the handwriting, and the ink seems to be from a pen I keep at my bedside table for journaling in the mornings.

I feel so... violated. Knowing someone has been through my home like this, that they've destroyed the very place I've made my own... The sorority house, that's one thing. I share that with all the other girls, but here? This is different.

This is terrifying.

This tells me that whoever is after me knows where I stay, what I'm up to, where to find me. And I don't like the implications of that. Not one bit.

I crumple the note in my hand and toss it into the trashcan under my desk. No. I'm not going to let them get away with this. I'm not going to let them intimidate me into stopping in my tracks, whoever this is. My plan is in motion now, and I know better than to try to stop when I'm already into something.

Getting to my feet, I head to the living room and survey the damage. It's a mess, but cleaning it up will give me something to do—it'll keep my mind from straying down any dangerous paths about who this might be or what they might want.

I could call my brother for help, but I don't want him to know what's happened. I'm sure he'd have some choice words for me about how getting involved with Marcus has invited this chaos into my life, and right now, that's the last thing I want to hear.

I can handle this myself. I'm perfectly capable of handling anything that gets thrown in my direction, actually.

And whoever has done this? They don't know who the fuck they're dealing with. I'm going to make them pay.

Just as soon as I find out who they are.