Forbidden Desire 18+

Chapter Eight

ELIO MORELLI

✥

"How is she, Elio?" Lonzo's voice booms through my phone receiver.

I keep my eyes on Isabella's closed bedroom door. "She's fine. Everything has been fine. So far."

Lonzo grunts in response. "Got herself into any trouble?"

My body twists to face the large chair in the corner of the room. I sit down and swipe the edge of my ankle over my knee as I lounge back. "Depends what you call trouble."

"Mio Dio," he curses. "What has she done now?"

"Nothing too crazy," I admit. "She sure uses her backbone rather than backing down."

Lonzo snorts but he certainly doesn't find the situation funny. "Yeah, she definitely got that from me. Has she made any friends?"

I hum softly. "Some are better than others."

"Keep an eye on them," he responds coldly. "I'm aware they're probably not a threat but I still don't know who to trust anymore."

"A few of them are harmless," I state. "The others I've already got tabs on, don't worry."

Lonzo curses in Italian. "Send me over their names and I'll do a check over them to make sure everything is clean. I don't want to take any chances."

"She's a smart girl," I find myself commenting. "When she wants to be."

"I'm hoping this will give her the chance to do all the growing up she wants to do," he sighs and I nod in agreement. Growing up is an understatement, she needs a reality check.

My finger rolls over my lips slowly. "Don't worry, Lonzo. I have everything under control. If I need to report anything, you'll be the first to know."

He's silent for a few long moments. "Thank you, Elio. I know you'd be the best man for the job."

"I'll never forget what you did for me and my family," I keep my eyes focused on the door in front of me. The topic is a tough pill to swallow and I don't want to bring up those memories again but I need to give credit where credit is due. Without Lonzo, I have no idea what the future would have looked like for my family. "So you have my word. She's safe with me."

"Good," he resorts. "I'll check in later in the week."

I nod. "Goodbye, Lonzo."

Once I cut off the call and tuck my phone back in my pocket, I wait for whatever Isabella has planned next. I thought I could gauge her schedule but she doesn't have one. She just does whatever the fuck she wants. It's irritating but I refuse to show that it's affecting me. I play along.

Twenty minutes later she strolls out of her bedroom without even sparing me a glance. Despite the rainy weather outside, she's wearing a pair of tiny gym shorts and an oversized t-shirt. My jaw tenses as I focus on her back when she walks towards the kitchen, hips naturally swaying.

I don't look at anything I shouldn't, not because I'm a gentleman. I'm far from it. But because she's my client and I couldn't find anyone else more irritating than she is.

Isabella begins to take out ingredients from the fridge and fills up a pot of water before placing it on the stove and turns it on. I sit back and watch because this is the first time I've seen her attempt to cook since she got groceries yesterday.

She unpeels an onion and starts cutting it up on the chopping board, to her mistake she wipes her eyes and then extends her head to the ceiling. "Oh my God," she groans and drops the knife onto the counter.