The Bodyguard Who Stole the Mafia Bride

Isabella POV

The adrenaline from stealing Damien's G-Wagon carried me straight to Elysium, the only neutral ground left in New York. The VIP lounge was dimly lit, smelling of expensive cigars, aged bourbon, and secrets.

I paced the Persian rug, spilling the chaotic nightmare of the past twenty-four hours to my best friend, Brianna Hayes.

"You kneed him?" Brianna asked, her eyes wide as she handed me a glass of neat bourbon. "Bella, he's a Falcone Soldier. Are you insane?"

Before I could answer, the heavy mahogany doors swung open. Chloe Abbott stood there, looking sickeningly fragile in a plain white sundress.

Brianna stepped forward, her voice like ice. "Who let you in?"

Chloe ignored her. She walked straight toward me and dropped to her knees on the expensive rug. "Isabella, I had to come," she whimpered, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "Julian didn't want me to leave the hospital, but I had to apologize. We never meant to hurt you. He just... he cares about me so much, and we couldn't fight our feelings."

It was a masterclass in manipulation. An apology wrapped in a gloating smirk, designed to twist the knife deeper.

"Get off my floor, you pathetic snake," I sneered, looking down at her. "I hope you and Julian choke on your perfect love."

"Isabella!"

The furious roar echoed through the lounge. Julian Falcone stormed in, his eyes blazing. He took in the scene instantly-his fragile mistress trembling on the floor, and me standing over her like a tyrant.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" he snapped, rushing to pull Chloe up into his arms. "She came here to apologize, and you treat her like trash? You are acting like a spoiled brat!"

The sheer injustice of it-the man who had humiliated me, defending the woman he cheated with-snapped the last thread of my restraint. I hurled my crystal bourbon glass at the wall behind them.

It shattered with a violent crash, amber liquid and glass raining down. Chloe let out a theatrical shriek and collapsed into Julian's chest, perfectly fainting.

Julian scooped her up, his jaw tight. He looked at me, his eyes filled with absolute disgust. "You're bitter and cruel, Bella. We're done."

He carried her out without looking back. As the heavy doors clicked shut, the ten years I had spent loving him simply evaporated. There was no heartbreak left. Only a freezing, absolute void.

It was past ten when I finally unlocked the door to my penthouse overlooking Central Park. The apartment was pitch black, the only light coming from the silver moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I kicked off my heels, the silence wrapping around my exhausted body. I thought I had won a night of peace. I thought I was safe in my own sanctuary.

Then, a red ember flared in the darkest corner of the living room.

The sharp scent of dark tobacco and an aggressive, masculine musk hit my senses a second before a deep, gravelly voice shattered the silence.

"Did you enjoy your little joyride, moglie mia(my wife)?"

Damien Moretti stepped out of the shadows, swallowing the moonlight. He wore only dark dress pants. His bare, heavily muscled chest was a canvas of lethal scars, gleaming in the dim light. He looked like an apex predator who had patiently waited for the prey to lock itself inside his cage.

I froze, my pulse roaring in my ears. "How did you get in here?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.

Damien slowly crushed his cigarette into a crystal tray. He closed the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps, his dark eyes pinning me in place with an authority that felt far too heavy for a mere subordinate.

"Tonight, principessa(princess), is our wedding night."