Chapter 3
“Do you believe I stole it?”
“No one leaves until I know what happened.”
There it was.
For several seconds, Isabella heard nothing.
Not Sophia’s sharp breathing.
Not Katarina whispering her name.
Not the guards shifting near the doors.
Not even the crackle of the fire.
Only Dante’s answer.
“No one leaves until I know what happened.”
She looked at the man she had agreed to marry.
Three years together.
Three years of Sunday mornings in his kitchen, when the most feared man in the city stood barefoot making terrible espresso because she had once complained that his housekeeper made it too weak.
Three years of whispered conversations after midnight.
Three years of promises.
And apparently all of it weighed less than a sapphire necklace found in the bottom of her handbag.
Sophia recovered first.
“The necklace was in her bag, Dante.”
Katarina snapped, “That doesn’t mean she put it there.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophia looked directly at Isabella.
“But I know what I see.”
Isabella’s gaze never left Dante.
“Do you?”
His voice was low.
“Isabella, don’t do this here.”
Something almost made her laugh.
“Here?”
She looked around the salon.
“This is exactly where it needs to happen.”
She lifted her left hand.
The diamond Dante had placed there six months earlier caught the chandelier light.
His expression changed immediately.
“Isabella.”
She slid off the engagement ring.
Dante stepped forward.
“Don’t.”
For the first time that evening, there was fear in his voice.
Interesting.
She walked toward the velvet case.
Marco still held the necklace.
Isabella took it gently from him.
Then she placed the sapphires back inside the case.
Beside them, she placed Dante’s ring.
The tiny click of the diamond against velvet seemed louder than anything else in the room.
Sophia stared.
Katarina whispered, “Oh, Isabella.”
Dante went completely still.
Isabella closed the case.
“There.”
She looked at Sophia.
“Now your family has everything back.”
Then she looked at Dante.
“Including me.”
She turned toward the doors.
Dante caught her wrist.
“Isabella.”
She looked down at his hand.
“Let go.”
His fingers opened immediately.
“I never said you stole it.”
“That’s the problem.”
“What was I supposed to do? Ignore the necklace in your bag?”
“No.”
She faced him.
“You were supposed to know me.”
His jaw tightened.
“I do know you.”
“No, Dante. You know evidence. You know loyalty when it comes from soldiers. You know which men would take a bullet for you. You know who has stolen from your businesses and who has lied at your tables.”