13. ISABELLA

Chapter 13

ISABELLA

Genevra and I reach the closed door of my father's office. "Is the plan still the same?" I whisper.

"Yes," Genevra replies. "Just don't act too quickly or let your father, James, Ivan, and Andrey goad you into losing your temper, sweet girl," she warns me. "Remember, breathe through the emotions, and let it all just roll off you. You're nearly free of this place."

"What about you?" I ask, worried.

"I'll be okay," Genevra assures me. "Oh, and Isabella," she glances at my belly, "Andrey's not wrong. If you and he…" She swallows. "There's a big possibility."

"Great!" I say.

"Just listen to the advice, and trust the people saving you," Genevra tells me before whispering, "We have other help for your father's and Ivan's men."

I can't ask her what she means because we arrive at the study. Genevra gives my hand a quick squeeze. "Good luck, sweet girl." She knocks on the study door and calls. "Isabella's here."

The door swings open, and James ushers me in. "Come in, Isabella," he says and looks at Genevra. "Thank you." I see her nod and walk off.

"There she is, my baby girl." My father smiles and walks up to me, pulling me into his arms for a hug. I stiffen, but he kisses my cheek. "I'm so happy about this, Isabella. You have made your father so proud."

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him exactly what he can do with his praise and that I don't give a shit if he's proud or not. But Davey walks into our meeting briefly.

"Mr. Belov ordered apple juice for you." Davey hands me the glass, nods, and leaves, pulling the door closed behind him.

"I think we all need a drink. My daughter gave me this premium vodka earlier," Marco says, opening the bottle and pouring the four men a generous portion of a vodka shot. "To Isabella and Andrey." He raises the glass, as do the other three.

"To Isabella and Andrey," they chorus and down the drink alongside Andrey.

I raise my apple juice and have a sip.

"Welcome to the family, Isabella." Ivan engulfs me in a bear hug. "We've waited a long time for this, and trust me, it's just what both our families need right now."

My brow creases at his words, but I don't have time to ponder them as James hugs me. "Congratulations, cousin." He glares at Andrey. "You'd better treat my cousin right. I'll be watching you."

"Oh, I don't think you have to worry about Andrey treating me right," I tell James, smiling as I watch all four men down another shot. Two down, one more to go. Before Andrey can retort, I say, "I'd like to make a toast."

"Uh…" My father looks at me for a few seconds and is about to say something, so I remind him.

"It's my birthday and wedding day. I can make a toast." I raise my brows and look at Andrey. "Do you mind pouring all the men another shot?"

Andrey's eyes narrow suspiciously, and he hesitates for a moment but pours another shot.

I raise my glass. "To my twenty-first," I say and take a sip of my apple juice. The four men stare at me. "Well?" I snap. "Are you going to deprive me of a toast after what you've all done to me?"

"No!" James is the first to say and shoots the other three a warning glare. "To Isabella. Happy twenty-first, cuz."

The four of them down their shots. I glance at the clock. It's been ten minutes since I stepped in here. James has always been good to me, but he's one hundred percent loyal to my father. I feel bad about what I'm doing to him— again .

"Isabella, talking about your…" I see my father pause and squeeze the bridge of his nose. But he pushes on. "I wanted to give you and Andrey the house…" He swallows and leans against his desk. "The house in the Hamptons."

"That's very gener…" Andrey starts saying and sways. "What the…"

I finish my apple juice and tilt my head as I watch the four giants around me start to sway, then fumble for a chair.

"Are you okay?" I ask innocently. "Maybe you've had too much to drink ?" I look at Andrey. He's gripping the cabinet.

My father falls into his office chair. "What is going on here?" Ivan growls. "Why do I feel like…"

"Jelly?" I ask.

A hand grips my elbow, and I turn to see Andrey, who managed to stagger toward me. "What the fuck have you done?"

"Me?" I point at myself with all wide-eyed innocence. " I didn't do anything."

"Isabella, I swear…" Andrey grates, but his body is starting to get weak. He fumbles around, staggering to a chair near his father.

"Isabella!" My father barks weakly. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Did you do this?" James says, staggering to a chair. He looks up at me. "Why?"

I frown. Is James acting? He doesn't look like the other three, and his eyes aren't glazed.

"I swear to God, Isabella, you're going to be in so much trouble if you did this," Andrey sneers, and I can see he's fighting the effects of the drug.

"Don't fight it, Andrey," I mock. Throwing his words back at him, ignoring the guilt, gnawing at me because he'd done a nice thing for me for my birthday. "You'll find it'll be much easier for you if you just give in."

I smile and glance around the room. Time to go! I remember that Davey said I mustn't leave the bottle with the drug in it.

"Sound the fucking alarm, Marco," Andrey growls weakly.

"Don't bother. No one's coming," I turn to tell my father. "The alarm's temporarily out of order, just like your men."

I smile smugly, reaching for the potent bottle of Vodka. Cradling it, I turn and look at Andrey, who's now lost the ability to move. Wow, whatever this shit is that Davey got, it's fucking potent.

I give Andrey a little finger wave. "Bye, hubby. Consider this a divorce."

"Isabella," Andrey sucks in a breath. "You… don't…" I see he's hanging on by a thread. "Understand, you're in… you're in danger."

"Yes, and I always will be with you," I tell him.

Before he can say anymore, I turn to leave, knocking into a wall of solid muscle that's just stepped into the room. The rough black military-style uniform scrapes against my skin.

Fuck, are the SWAT team here to arrest me for drugging my family? I give myself a mental shake. Don't be ridiculous.

My eyes run up his torso, up and up, fuck he's tall , and meet familiar green eyes that I can now see are hazel with gold flecks and a devilishly handsome face with thick, neat dark hair.

"You!" I gasp, taking a step back, but he has hold of the top of my arms, so I can't go too far.

"Hello, Izzy-B." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, although a flicker of emotion flashes in them. "We meet again."

The use of a nickname stirs something at the back of my mind, but I'm too confused to try to pull it out. So, I say the first thing that comes to mind. "If you're here to get your jacket back, now's not a very good time."

"Is it because you've just drugged your father, your cousin, and two Belovs?" he asks, laughing.

I gulp and suddenly realize he's the help Genevra was talking about before I entered my father's study. He turns his head and calls to someone called Pavel in Russian over his shoulder.

Okay, so not SWAT. Maybe Russian SWAT? My mind is whirling and wondering if this is part of the plan I wasn't made aware of—a man just as big and broad steps up behind the man.

"Hold her," he commands and then gently moves me toward Pavel.

Pavel nods, and to my amazement, the truly terrifying giant smiles at me before his large, beefy hands spin me around, and his arm locks around my waist. "I'm sorry, Miss Moretti," he says before he lifts me, and my feet are no longer on the ground.

"What the fuck!" I hiss and start to wiggle. "This isn't part of my plan."

"Please don't struggle, I don't want to hurt you," Pavel says in my ear.

I realize I have the potent vodka in my hands, so I go still and slowly start to unscrew the cap, wondering if this stuff works if it touches the skin.

"I'm immune." Pavel guesses my intentions.

Before I can answer, the other man, who I've come to think of as Tom Ford because of the jacket he gave me, steps further into the room where four of the most powerful men on the East Coast are now incapacitated.

"You!" Andrey slurs and tries to move, but he can't. He's also fighting to stay awake.

I glance around the room. My father has slumped onto his desk. James has passed out too. Or at least James looks like he's passed out. I'm now hoping he's not, and he's acting, and maybe the drug didn't affect him. If it didn't, he could help me. My thoughts trail off and I frown as Pavel's words sink in.

"How are you immune?" I ask Pavel.

But he doesn't answer; he just stands there holding me in a vice grip.

"Hello, Andy," the man greets Andrey as if it's just another day in the park and two old friends have bumped into each other. "Still being as stubborn as ever and trying to best everything I see." He shakes his head. "You're not going to win this struggle, Andy."

I see Andrey's eyes widen in shock. "What…" He struggles to keep alert.

But the man has moved on, walking toward where my father and Ivan are. His eyes flash with hate. My heart starts racing, and panic rises within me. Ivan lifts his head trying to fight the effects of the knockout drug forcing his eyes open.

Oh fuck! Fear grips me. Have I just opened the door for the wolves who want the Belovs dead?

"You," Ivan is breathless. "So… stories are… true," he forces out, his head bobbing as he's slowly losing the battle to stay awake.

"Depends which stories you're referring to, old man," the man says in perfect Russian.

"Stay away from my father." Andrey snarls and tries to force his limbs to work.

Without taking his eyes off Ivan, the man says, "Don't worry, Andy. Today's your father and Marco's lucky day." I suck in a breath when he pulls out a deadly-looking dagger with a silver handle. Hazel-eyes lifts Ivan's head and Ivan's eyes are glazed. "I have a message for you." He grabs Ivan's arm and moves the sleeve. "Is this the hand you used to plunge the knife into his back?"

He doesn't wait for a reply but starts slicing into Ivan's flesh. Ivan's eyes widen before he gasps and passes out from the pain. The man stands up, looks at Ivan, and gives him a cold smile. I can't see what he's done to Ivan's arm because of the man's large frame that blocks my view.

"What… what…" Andrey's head is swinging like it's too heavy for his neck to hold up. "I'm going to… to…"

"Kill me?" The man turns and looks at Andrey. "I'll be waiting, Andy." He smiles, turns, and looks at my father slumped on the desk. "Tell Marco and Ivan I'll see them soon."

The man straps the dagger back onto his belt and then goes around the room collecting all the shot glasses. He looks up at Pavel. "Take her."

"What?" My eyes widen with fear. "Wait. No!" I start to struggle again.

"Isa…" Andrey makes one last attempt to get up, but he can't, nearly toppling from the chair.

"Whoa, easy there, Andy," the man says, moving as fast as a striking snake and pushes Andrey back into the chair. "I made a promise you wouldn't get hurt. Don't make a liar out of me."

"Who… who…" Andrey's eyes are giving up the battle to stay awake.

"You don't remember me?" The man puts a hand over his hurt feigning pain. "I'm hurt!" He pats Andrey on the face. "But I'm sure you'll remember soon enough," the man promises. "Now go to sleep."

He walks up to me and takes the bottle of vodka. "I'll take that." He looks at Pavel and says, "I thought I told you to take her?" As Pavel spins me around, I see the man look at a spot on the wall where there's a hidden camera holding up the bottle of vodka. "Never drink or eat anything delivered to you from a pissed-off woman. Isn't that what you once taught me, old man?" He laughs and starts following us as Pavel carries me to the front door.

My brow knits together at the man's words. He seems to know my father well. I know that saying of my father's well. Alarms start to go off in my head, and that nagging memory is jumping up and down, trying to get out of the dark hole it's trapped in.

"Put me down, you big oaf!" I start yelling, kicking, and wiggling.

"Please, Miss Moretti," Pavel hisses in my ear. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"You're hurting me!" I press against the iron arm clamped around my waist.

I freeze when I see Genevra sprawled on the floor. Oh fuck! What if they're not the help she hinted at?

"Genevra!" I scream.

I double my attempt to get free, but Pavel doesn't seem phased and clamps his other arm around my arms, pinning me. From nowhere, the hazel-eyed man appeared, opening the front door for Pavel.

"Genevra is fine," the man assures me softly. "It has to be this way."

That is all he says before I'm carried out of the house and shoved into the back of the Porsche Cayenne. I'm about to hurry out to the other side when I hear a bark. I turn, and I'm startled to see my dogs in the back. They're sitting there as if a stranger hadn't just kidnapped me.

The door I was about to use as an escape hatch swings open, and Stacy jumps in while Pavel climbs behind the wheel. Davey is in the front passenger seat, and Hazel-eyes is on the other side of me.

"Move," the man orders, and Pavel spins off, zooming us out the driveway, leaving my chance of freedom on my front steps.

Escape plan number three— complete failure! I can see the big red "failure" stamp hit the story of my fucking life. I can hear my father now: It's because you don't think things through. You act on your emotions. You can't see clearly with a head of steam.

Fuck you, daddy, dearest. This time I did think through, only I was fucking betrayed. Trust no one. If you make plans, always have a plan B that no one else knows about because most enemies are those we trust the most. No shit! Plan B, Isabella, always have a goddamn plan B.

I look around the car to where Davey is sitting chatting to Pavel like they've been best buddies their whole life, and Stacy is talking to Hazel-eyes in fucking Russian! When the hell did Stacy, who barely uses the English language correctly, learn to speak such perfect Russian?

Wait, I'm forgetting something here—when the fuck did Stacy meet Hazel-eyes? A chill creeps up my spine. Were they planning on kidnapping me all along? I see flashes of mine and Stacy's night at the Velvet Lounge, the night I met him and Andrey. Is that where Stacy met him? Or did she already know him? What the fuck is going on here?

And what about Genevra? She must've known with her advice: trust those saving you, or was it helping me ? The bitch lulled me into a false sense of liking her. I shake my head, pushing aside thoughts that are not getting me anywhere while trying to quell my panic.

My mind is reeling with a loud roaring in my ears so loud I can hardly hear much that's going on around me. I'm juiced up on adrenaline from my flight response, fear, and trying hard not to have a full-blown panic attack. If I could find my voice or catch my breath that seems to be trapped in my lungs, I'd lay into Stacy and Davey, the fucking traitors.

A hand lands on my back, and that's when my fight response kicks in. My instincts and training finally kick in—I really need to learn to jump-start them sooner—

I swing my elbow back, catching Hazel-eyes in the ribs. He grunts, and I use the moment of surprise to shove Stacy away and lunge for the door. My fingers fumble for the handle, heart pounding, but a strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back.

"Let me go!" I scream, thrashing wildly. My dogs, Zeus and Hera, watch the commotion with unnerving calmness as if they've been trained to stay out of it. Even my damn dogs are traitors!

"Isabella, calm down," Hazel-eyes growls in my ear.

His grip tightens as I struggle, and I feel a surge of panic-fueled strength. I twist and kick, managing to land a solid hit on his shin.

"Son of a bitch," Hazel-eyes hisses.

"Stacy, help me!" I shout, giving her one last chance to redeem herself, but she just watches with a mix of guilt and determination. " Fucking traitor."

Hazel-eyes finally manages to pin my arms to my sides, his breath hot and heavy against my ear. "Enough," he snaps. "You're not going anywhere."