Niccolò's POV:

Valentino Mazzini.

I wasn't surprised that he was working with somebody else to take me down. However, I was surprised that Isabella cracked him so soon. She didn't even see the man properly, yet she had more luck and natural skill at getting me the information I needed than most of the men I had on the case.

"Are you sure about him?" I looked at her and quickly realised this was a mistake. As she pointed him out to me, her face came closer to mine. By turning my head, I only needed to make a small slip to taste those lips of hers one more time. I still remembered the feeling, the sweetness of the ice cream she had that day. I might have kissed her just to prove my point to Sylvia, but that didn't mean that I hadn't enjoyed it thoroughly. And if my memory served me right, so had she.

Isabella nodded, still looking at his picture. "Yes, that's him. I'm sure."

As her eyes danced on the computer screen in front of us, I was thinking about rescheduling the meeting and bending her over my desk. I had come in this morning, completely unaware she would have that effect on me. But I saw her on my floor in a tight skirt that did nothing to hide the roundness of her ass or the width of her hips. I had never before been more turned on by the sight of a woman in a simple, short black skirt.

Her smell engulfed me because she was standing in such close proximity. Her apricot and vanilla scent crept into my memory, and I knew for a fact that every time I would see apricots, I would be reminded of her. My cock hardened as she brushed her leg unintentionally against mine. The zipper on my pants became the only restraint I had left toward her.

"What now?" she asked as she turned her head so her jade eyes found mine. Her eyes danced between mine and my lips. I didn't know if I hoped she felt the same tension between us as I did or if I hoped that her uneven breaths going through her slightly parted lips were just the aftermath of her being overwhelmed by her first day.

"Now, we wait," I spoke slowly, trying to find some common sense. In the beginning, I thought my proposition that she work with me was the smartest idea I had ever come up with, but now I wasn't so sure anymore.

What was I capable of if anyone in the office made an inappropriate remark toward her? What was I capable of if anyone in the office or the meeting looked at her for a second too long? I didn't know, and that scared me because all my life, I knew how I would react. When it came to her, all of my self-knowledge jumped out of the window, and everything that remained was my instinct. My instinct was to keep her by my side and unscathed.

She straightened her spine and put space between us. I was glad that one of us was using reason instead of giving in to the pull between us. I was just surprised that that someone wasn't me.

"Okay, so the meeting today—will he be there? Do I get some intel so I'll have something to base my observations on?" she asked a series of questions as she made her way toward the chair opposite my desk.

She sat down without asking me, which sparked something new in my somewhat lifeless heart. It sparked pride—pride that she moved so freely around my office, pride that she was comfortable around me, pride that she trusted me. It made me feel honoured in a world where I had no honour left.

I liked how she switched the sensual tension from mere moments ago into a mission. She wanted to be great at this job, and I didn't doubt that she would be. I gave her the need-to-know rundown on all the associates I was meeting with today. I didn't want to plague her mind with the crimes they've committed in the past or my reasons for questioning their loyalty. I wanted to get her first opinion solely based on observation alone; it would be more unbiased.

Our conversation about the people she would soon encounter was interrupted by a faint knock on my door.

"Come in," I said before Beatrice opened the door. She looked around the office like she wanted to find something. But her eyes faltered when she didn't find anything, and she spoke instead, "The associates are in the board room. They would like to start the meeting soon."

I nodded, "We'll be right there."

We made our way to the elevators, and once again, I could sense Isabella's body tensing. If I hadn't spent so much time with her in the past two weeks and if I hadn't seen her in her relaxed state, I would've never guessed she was stressed about something. But I did; I noticed. I noticed everything about her.

She kept her eyes trained on the door as I kept my eyes fixated on her. A surge of possessiveness surged through me as some of my employees eyed us. I liked and hated it at the same time. I liked it because it proved to me we were a sight to be seen, and I hated it because she got more attention from others than I could ever have given her in public.

The elevator door opened two floors down, where I had a floor just for my different board meetings. I nodded in greeting and took my place at the top of the table where my father once sat.

It was at that time that I noticed Isabella was still standing at the edge of the boardroom. Some of my guests' eyes flickered towards her but soon returned to me. There were more pressing matters in their heads that were directly correlated to me than to some girl in the corner of our boardroom.

I silently motioned to one of the empty chairs at the back of the room that were lined around the walls. Sometimes, these meetings could get ugly, and security was, at times, mandatory. This wasn't one of those times, so the seats were empty. She understood the gesture and sat behind me. I could feel my skin prickle in anticipation.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It had been years since somebody stood or sat directly behind me. I never sat at the centre or in the front of the room. My back was too exposed for that. I always opted for a seat in the back. The only thing behind me at all times was a wall, and now Isabella.

My breath hitched, but I needed to keep it under control. It was Isabella; she was harmless to me. I knew that. But while the meeting progressed, I was barely keeping score of how many times Mazzini slipped up or how Lorenzo was eyeing me up and down.

Then there was Antonio, who had a smug expression on his face as he watched me and Isabella behind me. I wanted to erase his cocky grin. I wanted to erase him. But all of those thoughts couldn't keep me from listening to Isabella's scribbles in her notebook. A pen fell, and I tensed.

I knew it came from Isabella; she was the only one who could make a pen fall erupt an earthquake in my body. I tensed as Antonio looked from me to her again. She bent, and I hoped her blouse didn't show too much skin. I didn't dare to move, the only thing that I could do was tap my fingers against the table. It calmed me down as I wondered what the other men in the room could see.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the tension slipped away. Isabella was back in place, and her pen was scribbling once again. Antonio's gaze moved from her to me and then to Mazzini. He didn't give her a second glance for the rest of the meeting, but I knew he knew.

He knew something I didn't want to admit to myself. The meeting went on, and half an hour later, I got used to her calming presence behind me. I got used to Isabella behind me. Not even my men could do that. I drove them insane when I wanted to stand next to a wall at all times, and they couldn't do their job properly.

After the meeting ended, the first one out was Scar. I knew he had an important deal to close for Antonio in some gallery in Paris. What the deal was about, I had no clue, but I had to assign somebody to that. Antonio and Scar might be harmless for now, but one could never know. As I was trying to keep my men under wraps in Milan, Antonio did the same in Rome. He had too much on his plate to come after me.

Lorenzo and Mazzini approached me as the others left. I felt Isabella drawing nearer.

"Great meeting," Mazzini was all smiles, and I was all ears. Something about him told me to be careful. Isabella's perfume encircled me, and I hoped nobody noticed the way my body reacted to it.

Mazzini's eyes shifted from me to her, "I didn't have a chance to properly introduce myself. I'm sorry."

I watched Mazzini's outstretched hand in Isabella's direction. She sidestepped me and shook it without sparing me a glance, "Isabella."

Her soft voice echoed in my ears and my gut as the fear of something happening to her sent a chill down my spine. The air was filled with tension.

"Valentino Mazzini," he said in a sultry voice while he kept his eyes on her.

Isabella let go of his hand and moved closer to me. Her elbows brushed against mine. I felt a surge of protection as I sidestepped so half of her frame was behind me.

Mazzini looked at me again. I could see a hint of malevolence in his eyes as he said, "Next week, same place?"

I nodded, and he and Lorenzo turned to leave the meeting. I called after Lorenzo, " I need a minute with you alone."

Mazzini went into the elevator, and I watched the door close. Once they did, I spoke, "I need you to take down his night clubs, leave only The Spider. Everything else goes." I pointed toward the elevator door so he knew I meant Mazzini.

Lorenzo shook his head, "He's almost family. I can't do that, Niccolo."

"I don't want you to kill anybody for me. You do that already for your father. I just want a little havoc left behind in my name. And you are the best address for that." He really was. The boy could obliterate anything if it pissed him off enough. Luckily or unluckily for us, a lot of things pissed him off. I almost felt guilty for asking something so similar to what his father asked of him, but I needed things to be done properly. And if Lorenzo did things, he did them properly.

"Niccolo, are you sure? He's my cousin," he tried again to reason with me. But my mind was set; I wasn't getting a no from him on this matter. Mazzini needed to go.

"I don't care if he's the pope. He touched something that's mine. You might be young, but you are the real deal. You know how this is played, and you're one of the most important pieces on the chess board while he's merely a pawn." I pulled at his strings. Everyone always told him how important he was, maybe because it was true. Lorenzo's father had twice as much power under his thumb as all the other families. One day, Lorenzo would take over, and all I hoped was that he would be ready by then.

He nodded, "Understood. I'll send you the bill for my motorcycle." He was like that; a request to terminate somebody's empire was a mere transaction for him. He saw more hell than the ones already living in it did. Lorenzo did things in exchange for things. His father might have made a monster out of him, but Lorenzo was still just a boy - a boy who wanted fast things, cool things, his things. And while his father wouldn't give them to him, I could. Antonio could. We all could, keeping an eye out so the animal he kept locked inside, until it was time to come out and play, would stay locked for a moment or two longer.

He turned and walked out. And I was left with Isabella behind me. I guess I found out what exactly I was capable of if somebody looked at her for a second too long.