Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

ISABELLA I’ve been awake for a while now, just lying in Tristan’s arms.

He’s still asleep.

The last few days have been so strange. Mind blowing, but strange, and I don’t know what to make of them.

He’s in here. He spent the night again and he didn’t leave like he did yesterday.

I’ve woken up in his arms like we’re a couple and this is what we do in the mornings.

His arm is around me, holding me to his steel chest and my hand is laced through his. I remember doing so when I stirred from a nightmare. It was the feel of his fingers lacing back through mine that calmed me.

Now I’m awake again and faced with that same question I had yesterday of what we are and what we’re doing. The same question races through my mind, along with more things to worry about.

I know Tristan and I can’t be together, and this isn’t okay. We’re supposed to be forbidden and I’m pretty sure a secret.

Our situation isn’t the sort where he’s taken me captive to do what he wants with me. There are people here with him who have a plan. He’s not supposed to be up here with me playing house, pretending this is a home, and we’re the guy and the girl who went home with each other from the club.

This is not that. Not in the least. Not even a little bit.

I’m here in his arms and my mind is an ocean of confusion.

I should want to flee, to run forever, and never stop, but being in his arms is the safest I’ve ever felt. Next to him is the safest place I’ve ever been, and those are all thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

Soft lips press against my shoulder and I turn to see Tristan looking at me.

He gives me an uncertain smile. The sort that’s greeting me but acknowledging a new day with its own problems.

“Morning Bellezza,” he says.

“Morning…” He leans forward and we kiss. We kiss like we’re still in the fantasy of each other. When we pull apart, he shuffles to sit and slides off the bed to pull on his boxers. I sit up then and look at him, wondering what it would be like to be his.

He was married.

What kind of woman did he love? What kind of woman did he give his heart to, to want to spend the rest of his life with her?

I imagine someone he loved fiercely and wanted to protect. Someone he loved with the same love he told me his father had for his mother.

He loved a woman like that, and my father got to her. Killed her. I feel ashamed to think of her.

The same shame I feel knowing I’m Mortimer Viggo’s daughter.

He sees me looking at him and stills as he was about to shrug into his t-shirt.

“What, doll?” he asks as if we don’t both have a million things on our minds.

I shake my head. There’s no way I’m going to ask him about her and not when there are more pressing things on my mind.

“What are we doing, Tristan?” I mutter and he runs his hand through his hair in that habitual way.

“I don’t know. I …” He straightens up, pulls on his shirt, and looks at me.

“Tristan, what are you going to do with me?” I can’t live another day with that question hanging over my head. We haven’t talked about it. We haven’t done much talking in the time we’ve spent together, but that’s something I need to know. “I just want to have some idea of what you’re planning for me.”

“I know what I’m supposed to do with you… but I can’t do it yet.”

“What is that?” I ask “Let you go.”

“I’m no use to you anymore. He won’t come you know. My father won’t come. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can demand his life to save mine as some ransom. It won’t work,” I say.

I’m sure he must have figured that out already, I just feel I owe it to him to point it out. “He won’t come for me. Not only does he not love me like that, but I’m just a way of him making sure his legacy continues. I’m supposed to marry Dmitri and he’ll be leader. I’ll just be a breeding machine. That’s all I am. Don’t expect my father to come if you tell him you have me.”

Tristan walks around to me. He brushes his fingers over my jaw before he crouches down and takes both my hands into his.

“Your father loves you Isabella,” he states shocking me to the core.

My brows snap together. “No, he doesn’t love me. How can you hurt someone you love in all the ways he’s hurt me?”

“Believe me when I say you are the only thing that man loves in this world.” His gaze clings to mine. “All this time he’s kept you away from the underworld. Nobody knows about you. Nobody would and we only found out by chance. You wouldn’t believe the type of shit we had to go through to find you and it was no mere task to take you. A man would only place that type of protection on someone he loves.

“Telling him we have you is not ransom, it’s war. It’s a declaration that we’re ready to fight and we won’t give back the most precious thing to him until he gives himself up. That is what telling him does. We don’t know what that kind of fight it will bring and that’s why we hoped you knew where we could find him. Knowing where he is would place us one step ahead of the game. Especially when he thinks you escaped.”

All I can do is stare at him. Everything he said makes sense I just believed my father hated me for such a long time that it’s difficult to believe or accept anything else.

“I feel awful that I’m his daughter. I truly do. I just want to be free.”

“I… can’t set you free yet. Not yet. Having you is leverage we need, even if he doesn’t come to us on our terms. Having you gives us a window of chance. He’ll definitely want you back.”

“I don’t want to go back. I never want to see him again. I just want out of this dark world of death where he rules me with an iron fist. This isn’t me. I’m the wild child. The free spirit who wants to live. It’s not right to cage something wild.”

Something flashes in his eyes when I say that. It’s that pain again, but I can tell I’ve struck something inside him.

“I know. I promise I will set you free when the time comes. I promise to make sure you’re free to live the life you want. I just can’t do it now.”

I look away. Hearing that I still have to remain the captive wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. But what did I expect?

I’m still needed for a plan. He still needs me to get to my father.

I’m still collateral damage.

And what are we?

“What about us? I know you’re not supposed to be with me.” Better if I say it than him.

He dips his head, a sign that he doesn’t know what to do in that respect either.

When he looks back up to me it’s with sad eyes.

“I should tell you that last night was the end. Last night I should have said the same, but something stops me every time.” He stands up and stares down at me.

I gaze at him waiting to hear the rest of what he has to say, but he doesn’t continue.

“Is that it?” I prod.

“No, but I think it’s the best thing I can tell you right now.” He pulls in a ragged breath. “Isabella what I need you to do is think about anything you can that will help me find your father. That’s what I need right now. If you meant what you said about wanting to tell us where he is then that’s what I need from you. But know this… the minute you tell me anything at all it means betrayal and he’ll know it could only come from you.”

With that he leaves.

I watch him go and allow his words of caution to sink in.

I must sit there for an hour just thinking about my father and anything I can think of that can help find him.

I search my mind and come up with nothing so I head down to the beach, hoping the fresh air will help. I find a good spot and sit in the sand. I’m far away from everyone, as far as I can be which is close to the start of the rock formations in the sea.

As I stare out at the waves crashing against the jagged rocks Tristan’s words run through my mind.

He said my father would know I betrayed him because there are certain things only I would know.

So, I think about what I do know. I think about what only I know as his daughter and as I do I think about what it would mean if I betrayed him in such a way.

I think of everything he’s told me, of his upbringing and what happened to his family. I think of how he formed the Circle of Shadows and how he gained power over the years.

As I think I remember how he killed my mother and blamed the Syndicate. He gained more power when he did that but that wasn’t why he killed her. He wouldn’t have murdered her in such a violent way if it was that. I think he would have just put a bullet to her head.

I’d bet Nikoli would know. He’s close enough to my father to know a truth like that.

Something strikes me on that thought.

Nikoli… I always, always have my conference calls at Nikoli’s house. Always for the last twelve years. I grew up in that house with the same mantra.

All my father’s orders are also passed on through Nikoli. No guard speaks to him directly without speaking to Nikoli first and when they meet, it’s always at his house.

Like everybody else, I don’t think Nikoli knows where my father stays, but he must have some idea of where the calls are coming from.

Or maybe there’s a way of finding out.

I think I have an idea.

I get to my feet ready to run and tell Tristan but stop in my tracks as his words come back to haunt me.

My father will know it’s me who betrayed him. He’ll definitely know this because this is something personal. I’m the one he talks to at Nikoli’s house.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

For a fleeting second, I remember the man who used to take care of me and my mother. The man who used to tell me stories of his bravery. The man who told me my mother was the most important thing in his world and I was what came from their love.

When the second passes I remove that image from my mind and remember him for who he is.

Thinking of who he was will bring no justice or redemption. It will only allow him to flourish in strength and continue to do what he’s always done.

Thinking of who he is, is what’s going to allow me to do the right thing.

Who my father is, is the same man who killed my mother, the same man who killed Eric, the same man who whipped me until I couldn’t move and the same man who wants me to marry the devil who killed Eric.

That is who my father is.

Those images and that knowledge moves me. I rush back to the house and find Tristan.

He’s on the front porch talking to one of the guards. He acknowledges me when he sees me.

“I think I have an idea,” I tell him.

“Really?” Hope lights up his eyes.

“Yes. I think I came up with something that might work.”

I hope it does because if I get this wrong and my father knows I set out to betray him, he’ll kill me.