14. Isabella

My default mode whenever I'm having a hard time with something is to just simply ignore whatever it is. Ignore it, don't think about it—it's how I've gotten through life so far.

The wedding was two days ago and I've resolved not to think about Graham. But it's not easy when, for some reason, everything seems to remind me of him. When I walk into Maria's room, she's blasting his favorite Taylor Swift song. I made pasta the other night and all I could think about was the fact that I made the same thing for him once, too.

It was easier during those three months. At least I had something to look forward to. Now I have nothing.

My laptop is on my lap and I'm working on a job when I get a text.

Unknown Number: Guess who?

My heart clenches because I don't even have to think about it. I reply immediately.

Me: Graham.

Graham: Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin.

I stare at my phone screen for a couple of seconds. The Harry Potter reference is oddly endearing. I shouldn't be replying to him right now, but it's hard not to, especially after what I put him through. At the end of the day, he has no idea that I heard what he said in that hallway. So to him, my actions were completely unfounded.

Graham: Aren't you going to ask how I got your number?

Me: You're Graham Steele. I'm not surprised you got my number.

Graham: Smart girl. We need to talk, Isabella.

I sigh softly. I knew this was coming. He was never going to accept what happened at the wedding. He's too stubborn to back down so easily.

Me: I've said all I needed to say.

Graham: What you said made no sense. If you're going to cut all ties, the least you can do is provide an explanation as to why it's happening. Don't you think so, Isabella?

I don't reply because I know he's right. It doesn't make it easier to accept, though, and it doesn't mean I'm going to agree. I'm not going to see him.

A few minutes go by before he texts again.

Graham: 6 p.m. tomorrow at Café Briol. It's quiet there in the evenings. I'll send you the directions. And Sunshine? If you don't show up, I'll come find you. I know where you live.

That makes me laugh.

Me: You're going to walk into a house filled with armed men who wouldn't hesitate to kill you?

Graham: Exactly my point. Sounds like too much of a bother. So don't make me do it.

Me: I'm not going to come, Graham.

Graham: You will.

He doesn't send anything else and I'm left staring at my blank screen for the longest time. I let out a soft groan and lie down on my bed. Things are already complicated enough and he's only making it worse. I know he understands the consequences, but it seems like he's intent on not even considering them.

Which means I have to be the one to remind him what's at stake.

I spend the next morning debating if I should meet with Graham. I don't believe that he'll barge into the house. That's probably a bluff; I know he's not stupid. But he's liable to take drastic measures if I don't do what he wants.

My mind whirs as I try to make a decision. On one hand, maybe it would be better to explain why I don't think we can continue any form of relationship. But seeing him again would hurt too much because I know it'll inevitably lead to a goodbye. Once he realizes where I'm coming from, he won't want to continue whatever this is between us either.

It takes nearly the entire day, but I finally make my decision an hour before six. I'll go. Because I know Graham will think I'm a coward if I don't. He'll see me as a hypocrite. I get dressed, and after making sure the twins are okay, I grab the keys to my car.

There was a time when I would have had to seek permission before I was allowed to leave the house during the day. And I couldn't even step foot outside at night. But that time has passed and Enzo's rules are much more relaxed. That being said, after the incident at Boulder, I have a feeling he's either put a tracking device somewhere and I can't tell, or he's having me secretly followed.

I'm not expecting anyone to stop me as I leave the house but then suddenly Jason's there, barring my path.

"Where did you even come from?" I ask, irritated.

He crosses his arms over his chest. "Where are you going, Isabella?"

"None of your business."

"You're going to see him, aren't you? I kept my mouth shut for three days and I didn't bother you. But now I need to know—what's your relationship with Graham Steele?"

There's an authoritative tone in his voice that really rubs me the wrong way. I fix him with a hard glare.

"Unfortunately I can't reply that question because it's bullshit. Unless, Enzo sent you here and asked you to keep me in the house, I'm leaving and you can't stop me."

I try to side step him but he refuses to budge. He places his hand on my arm.

"You're right, I'm sorry. But you can't blame me for wanting to know if you're dating this guy."

"Actually, yes, I can. You broke up with me. You ended things. It's none of your business who I choose to date," I grit out. "And while we're on the topic, never touch me again. Not in private and not in public."

It's amazing how our emotions work. Right now, as I stare into Jason's eyes, I realize that I don't feel anything for him anymore. And maybe he can tell because his expression turns to hurt and then resignation. He steps away, letting me leave.

The café is empty when I arrive. Graham's seated at one of the booths, wearing a suit and looking every bit the businessman that he is. I walk over to the table and slide into the other side.

"Why is this place so empty?" I ask.

"I bought it out," he replies easily.

My eyebrow flicks up. "If you have money to throw around, then you might as well donate it to some charities or something."

"Don't worry, Sunshine. I donate plenty," he replies with a grin.

"Why are you so smiley?" I ask, confused. "That last time you saw me, you told me to go fuck myself."

"No, I said ‘fuck your apology.' I would never tell a lady to go fuck herself. That's rude. My mom raised me better than that."

"What you said wasn't any better," I mutter.

"You deserved it. But before we get into what happened at the wedding, let's talk about the last three months."

"What about them?" I ask.

This is a vastly different situation than I expected to walk into. I thought he'd still be angry. I was honestly ready to apologize. But instead he seems relaxed, happy even. Which is weird. He can be so unpredictable.

"We need to get up to speed on what we've both been up to. I'll start," he states. "I got appointed as vice president a month ago."

"I know."

"Okay, good. Then you know everything of consequence. I spent the past three months working. I haven't dated anyone. Your turn, go," he prompts eagerly.

I roll my eyes. "He's not my boyfriend, so chill."

Graham's ensuing grin leads to a flutter in my chest. Relief shines in his expression. "He's not?"

"No. But he is my ex, though. You know about him," I state.

"Ah. So he's the dumbass that was unable to choose you when he had the chance. What happened? Are you not allowed to date men who work for your family?"

"You know who he is?"

"His name is Jason Reid, he's thirty-two years old. He's your cousin's right-hand man. He's British but came to the U.S. a couple of years ago with your cousin and hasn't left since. I don't think he has any family members, or at least none that I could find. His social security number is?—"

"That's enough," I cut in. "Isn't it illegal to look through people's private information?"

"Sure," Graham replies, leaning back in his chair. He's not even fazed.

"Did you look into me?"

He shakes his head. "I figured out your number but that's it, Sunshine. Believe it or not, I don't make a habit of looking through people's private information. But your friend's existence was pissing me off and I needed to find out everything I could about him for my sanity."

I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. "What do you want from me, Graham?"

He looks at me. "Honestly? I don't know. But how about we start with an explanation? Tell me what happened at the wedding. Why were you so upset?"

My eyes meet his, and I exhale softly. "The truth is, I've always known who you were, Gray. From the minute you told me your last name."

"Yeah, I figured."

"When I was saying goodbye to you three months ago, I knew it wouldn't be hard to find you again. And when I heard about your brother's wedding a couple of weeks ago, I decided that was my chance."

"So you did come to the wedding to see me?" he asks curiously.

"Yeah. But then I overheard your conversation with your sister in the hallway. I was looking for you but you weren't in the ballroom. Then I noticed your sister stepping outside to get you, and I followed her. I heard the two of you talking about the mafia families."

Graham's jaw tightens. I like that he immediately realizes what I'm talking about.

"What were you doing there?"

"That's not the point," I state. "Do I need to rehash everything I heard or are we at an understanding?"

He doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds. His eyes are still on my face as he leans back. His expression is thoughtful, skeptical.

"What?" I ask, when he remains silent. "You don't have anything to say?"

"I'm thinking," he murmurs.

"About?"

"How I'm going to convince you I was talking out of my ass."

My chest tightens. "Graham…"

"No, listen. I remember what I said and I get why you might be upset about it."

"I'm not upset," I retort.

"You are," he states. "And I understand. You heard me saying that I wanted nothing to do with the mafia. Which would be a problem considering you're…." He trails off.

"A mafia princess," I finish for him. "I'm as entrenched into the mafia as anyone can be. It's my family's legacy. It's all I've known since the moment I was born. I'm a Russo, Graham. That's never going to change."

A muscle ticks in Graham's jaw. "You don't have to be so melodramatic about it."

I can tell he's finally starting to see things from my angle. And he does not like that.

"Do you want something?" he asks, gesturing at the counter. "Coffee?"

I think about it for a second. "Yeah, sure. An iced caramel macchiato, please."

He nods, standing up to get it. I watch him go, not missing his expression. He's a little angry, finally. I'm angry, too, about this entire situation. I don't blame him for what he said. I get it. My entire life, people have always avoided me because of who my family is.

When Graham returns, it's with two cups of coffee. He hands over mine before sitting down. We sip our drinks in silence for a couple of minutes. I can tell he's finding it hard to figure out where we go from here. Luckily for him, I already thought it all out.

"Do you think you're more physically attracted to me or emotionally attracted?" I ask.

Graham's momentarily startled. "What the hell kinda question is that?"

I continue like I didn't hear him, "I mean, we've technically only known each other for a couple of days. It would make sense if it's just a physical attraction. I am hot and we have had sex," I state.

Graham shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"Come on, Gray. Be a big boy. Tell me what you want from me," I prod.

He frowns. "I want you," he manages to say.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not a toy, Graham. You can't just say you want me. Why do you want me?"

His jaw clenches. It takes a long moment before he replies.

"Because I just do, okay," he states.

I twirl a finger around the rim of my cup, studying him. "You wanna know what I think?"

"Actually, Sunshine, I preferred it when you were rambling about how hot you are," he teases, probably trying to lighten things up.

He hates having hard conversations. Unfortunately for him, this is important.

"I think this is all just a game to you. I was a mystery three months ago, which is probably why you couldn't get me out of your mind. But now that you know who I am, you've solved the mystery. The thing is, I also happen to know that you get bored easily, Gray. So what happens when you grow tired of the game?"

His jaw clenches. "This isn't a fucking game to me."

"You don't have to get so defensive." I smirk. "It was just a question."

"Oh, yeah?" he presses, eyes gleaming dangerously. "Your turn, Sunshine."

"My turn, what?" I ask casually.

"Tell me why you sought me out at the wedding. What do you want from me?"

I'm momentarily speechless. I hadn't been expecting him to turn the question on me.

"I never said I wanted you," I say slowly, trying to talk my way out of this.

It's always so hard to be completely honest with a person. There's this innate desire embedded in everyone not to be vulnerable. People can hurt you. And with Graham, I'm keenly aware that he's in a greater position to hurt me than anyone else.

I should probably tell him that he consumes my thoughts and that I miss him when he's not around. I should tell him how much I like spending time with him and how I've spent so many nights lying awake and wishing he was next to me. But I can't tell him that.

Because we're practically doomed. He'd probably call that melodramatic. But that doesn't make it any less real.

"Bullshit," Graham says in reply. "You want me."

I grit my teeth. He's always so sure of himself. It's annoying.

"Okay, fine. I can't deny that there's a pull, sexually. Obviously, we've had sex before, so I guess we can't be blamed if our bodies are looking for a repeat performance."

Graham leans back in his seat again, taking a sip of his coffee and looking thoroughly amused.

I continue, "Like you said, you and I, we have a connection. Honestly, I feel it too. Talking to you is easy and it's almost like you're able to see parts of me no one else can."

"But?" he asks, expression open, curious. He doesn't know where I'm going with this.

"But I don't think that has to translate to us having sex."

"Woah, woah. You've lost me, Sunshine," Graham says, holding a hand up. "What are you talking about?"

I sigh softly. "I'm saying we should be friends, Graham. I think we'd be great friends. But we don't have to complicate our relationship with sex or any pesky emotions either of us might be feeling because we're lonely or bored."

He cocks an eyebrow. "This is so not how I saw your little speech going."

"You do understand what I'm trying to say, though?" I ask.

He rubs a hand over his jaw. "It sounds like you're friend-zoning me. What's not to understand?"

I can't read his expression. And I have no idea how he feels about that.

"Graham, tell me what you think," I push.

His eyes darken for a second, but then his expression clears in an instant.

"It's a great idea," he says with a grin. "You and I would be great friends, Isabella. And even better, something as simple as a friendship won't jeopardize our lives. I get to continue seeing you, Sunshine. Platonically. What more could I want?"

"Exactly," I mutter.

And even though I can tell his smile is fake and his expression is insincere, I don't comment on it. Because this is the way it has to be. I don't want to stop seeing him because I care about him. But I also can't pursue a relationship with him. And I refuse to continue sleeping with him if a relationship isn't on the cards.

This is easier. This is safe.