6. Isabella

There are worse things than walking up in the house of a stranger after being drugged the night before. That's what I keep telling myself. I'm trying very hard not to freak out, and he's helping make that really easy.

Graham.

When I woke up and found him seated beside the bed, my first reaction was terror. Then I calmed down and really looked at him, and I was a little blown away. He's good looking in a way I'm sure would cause most women to swoon. A face like this is found on the covers of magazines. Chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, black hair that's thick and wavy. He's also pretty tall with a tan complexion and really nice eyes.

His eyes are the first thing I'm sure anyone notices about him. They seem to glimmer, while also carrying a hint of mischief. His attractiveness aside, there was something else about him, something about the way he looked at me that made me immediately feel safe.

Which is ridiculous because after last night, I shouldn't feel safe in the company of any man. Not to mention one whose home I've somehow involuntarily found myself in. I was going to leave after breakfast. But then he told me his name.

Graham Steele.

I know who he is. My family's very well connected in New York, especially with the other mafia families. And in the past few months, there's been a lot of buzz surrounding the Steeles and the Mincetti family. I looked up the Steeles one day out of boredom. I remember coming across a picture of Graham, but it wasn't until he said his name that I put two and two together.

And if I can find out who he is, then he can certainly come to a realization about who I really am. Plus, the Steeles are tech geniuses. It wouldn't be hard for him to figure it out. He might be his family's roguish prince, but I have no doubt he's just as smart as any of them.

"So, how's the headache?" Graham asks, walking back into the living room.

He's holding a box of crackers and munching it down happily. It's pretty clear the man likes to eat. He scarfed down his breakfast in only a matter of seconds. I had to hide my surprise.

"It's better now, thank you."

He's nicer than I expected. From what I've heard about him, I thought he'd be an arrogant, rude asshole who doesn't give a fuck about anyone else. But so far, I've only seen the arrogance. He saved me and apparently watched over me while I slept. It's kind of sweet, and I can't help but wonder why he's acting like this. He doesn't even know who I am.

"Another one. You're on a roll, darling," he says, shooting me a wink.

I roll my eyes. "So what do you propose we do while you're keeping me hostage here?"

He walks over and takes a seat on the couch beside me. "I don't know. You tell me. What do you want to do?" he presses, facing me.

"How about you tell me about yourself?" I suggest.

He cocks his head to the side. "So I'm supposed to talk about me when you refuse to talk about you?"

"Yeah, pretty much. You seem like the kind of man who loves talking about himself."

He doesn't deny that. He just runs his hand through his hair. "Okay, where do I start? What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

"Really? So… should I tell you about the time I broke my arm playing football in high school? Or how I'm a man of many talents? I sing pretty well, I'm good with computers, I'm pretty fucking smart," he drawls with a small smile on his face.

I can't help but smile back. "You're also really full of yourself."

"Comes with being amazing," he says on a shrug. "Or we could get into the deep stuff. Graham's Steele's most defining moment. Do you want to hear about it?" he asks.

There's a challenging glint in his eye, like he's daring me to say no. And he wants me to say yes at the same time. My heart starts to race.

"Yes," I finally reply.

His lips twitch. "You're not going to like this."

"I'm listening."

He leans back, breaking eye contact. "When I was thirteen, I got kicked out. My brother and I are only a year apart—we grew up mostly sharing the same milestones, being in the same schools, that sort of thing. But our experiences were always widely different. Alexander was the golden child. I realized it pretty early on, but it wasn't until that incident that that it finally stuck with me," he says, getting a sort of faraway look in his eyes.

"He and I were participating in some sort of competition in school. Trying to invent something. My family is particularly gifted when it comes to technology, so Xander and I each decided to build something to submit for the competition. We worked on our projects for weeks, the two of us. And then, a few days after the competition, we decided to show each other our inventions. Which was a tremendous mistake."

"What happened?"

"He'd made some sort of robotic pet feeder. I had made a smart home security system, one that used facial recognition technology and would alert homeowners of any potential security breaches."

"Yours sounds better," I murmur.

He grins at me. "You think so too, right? Well, my thirteen-year-old self was sure of it. I told him his invention was stupid and mine would win for sure. I taunted him, made fun of his. You know how kids can be. Anyway, Xander got mad and we got into a brawl. Unfortunately, we had chosen the wrong location to show off our inventions—right by the pool outside. He ended up pushing me at one point and I, with my amazing invention, took a tumble in the water. It didn't survive."

My eyes widen.

"Yeah, I was completely distraught. Xander was, too. He apologized, tried to help me fix it, but there was no point. I was so angry. Our parents got involved, but they didn't really do much to assuage my anger. My father practically told me to suck it up and that accidents happen," he says bitterly. His jaw is clenched now. "But I've never been good at sucking things up or being the better man. That night, I snuck into Xander's room with my father's lighter."

My hand goes over my mouth in surprise. Graham glances at me and smiles bitterly.

"He was asleep in his bed. And I just watched him for a long moment. The robot was on the floor right next to his bed."

"Did you do it?"

"I almost lost my nerve. Almost. But I've always been someone who follows through with his plans, despite how catastrophic they could turn out. I only meant to damage the robot's engines. But Xander must have painted the robot with benzene or some other flammable compound. It went up in flames in a manner of seconds. I panicked, hurriedly waking him up and dragging him out of the room, screaming for help. They got the fire out, but the room… well, let's just say it didn't survive. My mother spent the better part of that summer redecorating that wing of the house."

"What happened after?"

"I got in trouble, obviously. I tried to explain that I didn't mean for things to get so out of control, but they refused to listen to me. My father was furious. Xander was mostly in shock. He didn't even speak to me. I felt bad, but not nearly as bad as I did when my father told me I'd be leaving as punishment. I had to spend a year in London with some of our relatives. I was kicked out and my mother just stood there. Nobody stuck up for me. That was the first of many times I got kicked out over the years."

"You kind of deserved it."

Graham's head snaps up and his gaze meets mine. "What?" he says, laughing in disbelief. "Did you not hear the part where I was punished for what I did? I lost my invention and no one was on my side."

"Were you expecting them to? Your brother could have been seriously hurt," I scold. "I get that you lost your fancy invention, but it was an accident. He didn't mean to do it. Your actions were premediated. You went into that room intent on ruining his machine because he ruined yours. It was wrong. Do you even feel guilty?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw and he looks away.

"Probably not. You thought it was unfair. You were facing the consequences of your actions and you hated it," I state.

"Shut up."

I exhale. "Why did you tell me that story? Did you think I would feel sorry for you? How many women have you told that to who immediately said, ‘Aw, poor baby. You didn't deserve that,'" I say mockingly.

Graham gets to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "That's enough!"

"No," I say, standing as well. "You justify it in your mind, don't you? A part of you knew what you were doing was wrong. But you probably thought to yourself that if you had to lose something, then he did, too. It made you feel good, didn't it?"

"You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," he snaps, fuming.

"I do. I actually really do. I was surrounded by men like you for most of my life. Men who like to talk a big game, who made themselves seem like the victims when really they had been the problem all along. So what? Your parents preferred your brother over you? Did you even try to make up for it after? Or you decided to become exactly what they thought of you. You became a coward."

He moves closer until he's standing right in front of me, green eyes filled with rage. "Get out," he growls.

I blink once. Fuck, how did I let the situation get this volatile?

"Get out. And ask yourself why your gut reaction was to immediately cut me down. You said you didn't have friends, and I'm guessing it's because of your attitude. Is your life really that miserable?"

My fists clench and then I'm pushing him backward. He stumbles slightly.

"Screw you!" I yell, moving to grab my purse from the couch.

He had no fucking right to say that shit to me.

I glare at him, already heading for the door when my phone pings. Graham's does, too. We both pull them out and my eyes widen at the emergency alert notification. There's a snowstorm rolling in. Graham grabs a remote from the table and presses the button to open the blinds. Sure enough, it's starting to snow—heavily.

"Shit," Graham mutters.

I look at him, my jaw clenched. "I'm still leaving."

His eyes narrow. "By all means, go ahead. Walk into that and see what happens."

He's so fucking annoying. I turn around and continue my walk to the front door.

"Wait," he calls out and I hear a sigh. He walks forward until he's standing in front of me. "Where's your hotel? What's it called?"

I roll my eyes before giving him the name of the hotel.

"That's twenty minutes away if you drive. But you don't have a car here. You won't get any taxis or an Uber right now because of the storm. Ho do you plan to get there?"

"I'll walk if I have to," I mutter.

"Really? You'll walk. That sounds very efficient."

"Whatever. It's none of your business anyway," I state, trying to sidestep him.

He places a hand on my shoulder, green eyes fixed on my face. "I'm pissed too, but I'm definitely not letting you walk out there right now. It's dangerous."

I shrug his hand off and he sighs again.

"Now's really not the time to be stubborn. I'm sorry, but you're stuck here until the storm passes. Understand?"

I glare at him for several moments. I know he's right. It would be really irresponsible to walk out right now.

"Fine. But just stay away from me. Since my life is so miserable and all."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. The house is big enough. Maybe you should get started on that lunch you wanted to work on."

I scoff. "Read my lips, Graham. I'm not your fucking maid. Cook your own damn lunch."

He glares, but he doesn't stop me as I head back into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. He appears in the doorway a second later.

"Call your family or anyone that'll be worried about you. The storm looks like it's picking up. We could lose cell service."

I don't give him any indication that I heard. He doesn't seem to want any. He leaves once he's done talking and I hear him walking up the stairs.

Once he's gone, I grab my phone to call Matthew and Maria. I tell them what's going on and assure them that I'm perfectly safe but it's possible they won't be able to talk to me for a couple of hours, maybe more. I also make sure they haven't told Enzo where I am.

I left without informing him and it must be driving him crazy. They promise to continue to keep it a secret and I hang up.

I really can't believe my luck, though. I just had to get stuck in the same house as Graham Steele.