Page 36 of Reaper's Desire

Then she stops fighting. I don't think it's because she fully believes me, and definitely not because she trusts me. But I can see that she's exhausted and terrified and out of options.

So she gives in.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice small.

"Somewhere safe."

She doesn't argue. Just picks up her suitcase and follows me out into the night.

—

The walk to the villa is silent. Isabelle stays a few steps behind me, her suitcase wheels rattling over the cobblestones, her breathing uneven. I can feel her fear radiating off her in waves, mixing with anger and confusion. I want to say something—explain, reassure her, somehow make this easier.

But I don't know what to say. I don't know how to make any of this okay. So I stay quiet and keep walking.

The villa looks even more isolated in the darkness, the olive trees casting long shadows across the courtyard. I unlock the door and step inside, flipping on the lights. Isabelle follows slowly, her eyes scanning the sparse interior. "This is where you're staying?"

"Yes."

She sets her suitcase down by the door and wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking very young and very vulnerable. "I don't understand what's happening."

"I know."

"Then explain it to me." Her voice rises, anger bleeding through the fear. "Tell me what the fuck is going on. Tell me why you almost killed that man. Tell me why I'm in danger."

I close the door and lock it, then turn to face her. "There's a contract out on your life."

She staggers back a step, her face going even paler. "What?"

"Someone wants you dead. They've hired people to make it happen."

"That's—that's insane." She shakes her head, her hands trembling. "Why would anyone want to kill me? I'm nobody. I'm just?—"

"You're Isabelle Montague," I interrupt. "Daughter of Jacques Montague. Heiress to a fortune with connections to some very dangerous people."

She stares at me, her green eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "My father's business is legitimate. He's not?—"

"Your father's business has ties to organized crime. Whether he's directly involved or just turns a blind eye, I don't know. But someone in that world wants you dead."

"No." She's shaking her head again, backing away from me. "No, that's not—my father wouldn't?—"

"I'm not saying your father ordered the hit." I take a step toward her, keeping my voice calm and steady. "But someone did. And they're not going to stop until you're dead."

"How do you know this?" Her voice cracks. "How do you know any of this?"

This is the moment. The moment when I have to lie to her face, knowing that if she ever finds out the truth, she'll hate me for it. But I don't have a choice. I can't tell her the truth. If I do, she'll never trust me again. She'll run, and I won't be able to protect her.

She'll die, and I'll die too for nothing.

"I have connections," I say carefully. "In that world. I hear things."

"Connections." She repeats the word like it's foreign. "What kind of connections?"

"The kind that keep me informed about threats."

"Are you—" She stops, her eyes searching my face. "Are you a criminal?"

"I'm a businessman."