Randy’s mouth formed into a perfect O.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“With your judgmental eyes.”
“I’m not judging.”
“You totally are.” She slammed the door closed.
“I think it’s cute that you’re, you know, falling in love.”
“I didn’t say I loved him.”
“No, but I do recall a conversation between you and your dad when you said your dad’s precious ring would only go on the finger of the man you loved. I think my masterful powers of deduction have concluded that you’re in love with Damon Romano. You are his wife. You love him.”
“You sound like a schoolboy.”
“And you sound like a girl who is … caught up in love.” Randy started to make kissing noises.
She rolled her eyes and as she tried to walk past him, he wouldn’t let her move.
“Come on, you’re not serious. The whole, I’m not letting you pass until you tell me the truth.”
“It works, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Come on. Tell me.”
“Would you be mad if I said I was?”
“Mad? Why the hell would I be mad? It would mean that even in this crazy world, you found happiness.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t love me.”
“I don’t think you should underestimate just how amazing you are.”
“He hasn’t said anything.”
“Does he really need to? Everything he does, it’s all for you. Everything. He loves you, Bella. He just hasn’t gotten around to telling you yet.”
At that very moment, Isabella couldn’t remember a time when she was so happy, so gloriously content. The very thought of Damon wanting her, loving her, it was like a dream she didn’t even know she was having was coming true.
“Do you think it’s possible?”
“I know it is. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and it’s not just to get you in the bedroom.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“Me, gross? As if I’d even dare to.” He placed a hand on his heart and she watched his face as it morphed into pain and she knew why. Blood splattered against her face.
He’d been shot.
“Randy?”
“Get to the car.” He collapsed to the floor, holding his chest.
“No. No. No. No,” she screamed, dropping to the floor with him. “Please, no.”
“You’ve got to get out. Call Damon. Get him here. Fuck.” Randy opened up his jacket and handed her a gun. “Go.”
She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t leave you.”
“You have to. Go.” Randy, with what little strength he had, shoved her hard.
She stumbled back.
In the chaos, she’d lost her shoes. Going to her feet, she ignored the pain of the stones but she didn’t make it to the car. She turned in the opposite direction, breaking onto the grass, and giving her cut feet a break.
Someone was in her house.
She opened the gun and checked how many bullets she had. Not enough if this was a full-scale attack.
To her right, she saw a large stone. Reaching down, she picked it up, holding it within her grip. “I can do this,” she said.
Working her way around the building, she came to a stop as a soldier was pacing up and down the length of the back part of the house.
Holding the stone, she made sure her shadow couldn’t be seen and waited as he came to the edge of the property, stopped, and turned.
She attacked, slamming the rock against his head with full force. He went down, but he wasn’t clean out. She hit him again, and again.
Throwing the rock to one side, she traded Randy’s gun for the automatic this man was using to guard. Loaded and ready, she made her way into the house. The moment she started to fire, they would be alerted to her presence.
As she came to the back entrance of the house, she whimpered at the sight of Henrietta. The cook was dead, blood coming from her forehead. She didn’t have time to mourn the loss of her family.
Firing the gun, she took out a soldier, and a second one. She’d been so distracted that she didn’t see the guard who came up behind her. He hit her hard, and she stumbled.
He grabbed her hair, which was such a bad move, but he started to pull her across the floor, going toward her father’s old study.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
She looked up into Damon’s father’s eyes. “You!”
He slapped her hard.
The guard let her go and she fell to the floor. Blood spilled into her mouth.
“You shouldn’t even be here.”
“This is my home.”
“Yes, but you see, you should be at home, being the dutiful wife. Spreading your legs, and seeing that my son is equally distracted by you.”
“It was you all this time. You tried to kill me.”
“Yes and no. I didn’t want you dead. No, that wouldn’t have suited my plans. I knew of Damon’s intentions, and he’s had such horrid luck with women. I needed you out of this house and very much alive for my son.”