In His Grasp: A Mafia Romance novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Mastery of Disguise

He was a true chameleon, Isabella noted, her mind a tumultuous sea of thoughts.

"Isabella, come, eat something. You hardly touched your meal earlier," Grazia coaxed, her hand tenderly enclosing Isabella's. It felt like a lifeline, drawing Isabella back from the precipice of a terrifying abyss.

"Are you alright? You seem pale," Grazia observed, her gaze brimming with concern.

Isabella shook her head, her lips parting to respond, but her words choked in her throat as her eyes locked with Emanuele's, lurking in a shadowy corner. His gaze was predatory, stalking her every move as if he were a beast primed to pounce on its prey at the slightest misstep.

"No, it's nothing," Isabella barely managed to murmur.

Grazia, oblivious to Emanuele's unnerving presence, continued, "I'm sorry for the fright earlier. I'll have the gardener tidy up tomorrow."

"Thank you, Grazia, I think-"

Emanuele interjected abruptly, his tone brusque and his words laced with thinly veiled contempt. "I think Isabella isn't quite comfortable here, am I right?" His eyes scanned her, lingering on her face, her lips, and her neck before descending to her chest, taking in every detail with an intensity that was disconcerting.

His gaze felt intrusive, as though it could pierce through her clothing and expose the secrets of her body.

Flustered and deeply uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Isabella felt a wave of shame wash over her. Emanuele's gaze was like a serpent's forked tongue, slithering over her skin, leaving a trail of his lingering scent that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

If not for Grazia's comforting grip on her hand, Isabella feared she would be swept away by the tide of Emanuele's overwhelming presence.

Emanuele disregarded Grazia, his smile a chilling sight as he advanced towards Isabella, his large hand abruptly descending on her head.

His breath, laced with the lingering scent of tobacco, filled Isabella's senses.

"You look good in white," he said, and his next words were almost a whisper, nearly at Isabella's lips, "That way, you'll make the finest whore." His tongue and breath seemed poised to invade her slightly parted lips.

He was reminding her again of that alley where their sweat and blood had mixed, her white blouse made transparent by sweat, and the barely visible bra beneath it.

He had already viewed all these as the seduction of a whore, marking her as his prey without her knowing.

Yes, Emanuele had decided, even if he did not kill her, he would keep shaming her, torturing her, driving her to degradation and madness!

Her fate was doomed when she saw him wounded! This could not be tolerated!

Isabella's discomfort swelled to an unbearable crescendo, her anger flaring as she tried to push the man away. "Unhand me!" She demanded. Emanuele merely tightened his grip on her scalp, feigning a casual ruffling of her hair. To any onlooker, it appeared as nothing more than a brotherly gesture towards his sister.

Was this the result of some demonic spell?

"Grazia, do tend to this lady. She's as skittish as a kitten," Emanuele dismissed nonchalantly, disregarding Isabella's icy stare as he melted into the garden's shadows.

Grazia seemed wholly oblivious to the palpable tension between them. "Emanuele has such an unusual way of extending a welcome, doesn't he, Isabella? Why are your palms so damp?"

"My apologies, Grazia... I need some hot tea," Isabella responded hastily, desperate to escape the suffocating ambiance. She gulped down a large glass of water, hoping it would quell her racing heart.

Was that devil still lurking?

Through the towering window, Isabella spotted Emanuele's silhouette. He stood in the garden, a phone pressed to his ear. His tall frame cast a looming shadow in the soft light, reminiscent of Lucifer himself, shrouding Isabella's world in darkness.

Could she ever escape this demon's grasp? Isabella was engulfed in an overwhelming sense of despair.

This didn't feel like an estate; it felt more like an impending prison.

God, show this devil his reckoning!

Fortunately, Emanuele had to excuse himself from the dinner due to some business, allowing Isabella a brief respite.

It wasn't just Emanuele's intimidation; it was also her paralyzing claustrophobia.

Typically, those suffering from claustrophobia struggle with small, confined spaces, but for her, it extended beyond physical confines to emotionally stifling situations. In such states, her claustrophobia would intensify, making her far more susceptible to fear than most.

The roots of her condition traced back to the degradation she endured at her uncle's home during her childhood.