The Penthouse Prison

Isabella's POV

I yanked my hand away from Dante as soon as we stepped out of the elevator.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, backing against the wall. "Don't ever touch me again."

The elevator had carried us up so high that my ears popped twice during the ride. Now I stood in what looked like a palace floating in the sky. But all I could think about was Elena's terrified voice on the phone.

"Where is she?" I demanded. "You said if I came with you, Elena would be safe."

Luca pulled out his phone and pressed a button. A few seconds later, Elena's voice filled the room through hidden speakers.

"Izzy? Oh my God, is that really you?"

"Elena! Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine. They let me go an hour ago. I'm back at my sister's place in Queens. Izzy, what's going on? Who are these people?"

Relief flooded through me so fast I almost fell down. "You're really okay?"

"I'm scared, but I'm okay. They told me to stay away from our apartment for a while. They said you'd explain everything later."

"I will. I promise. Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too. I love you."

"I love you too."

Luca ended the call and put his phone away. "As promised. Your friend is unharmed and free."

"Thank you," I said, hating that I had to be grateful to him for anything.

"Now it's time for you to keep your part of the bargain," Marco said. He moved to a bar in the corner and poured himself a drink. "Tell us about the box."

"What box?"

Nico stepped forward. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear him. "Your father left you something. Something he made you promise to keep safe."

How did they know about that? Had they been watching me for longer than I thought?

"My father left me a lot of things," I lied. "His books, his favorite chair, some old photos—"

"Cut the act," Dante interrupted. "We know he gave you something specific. Something important enough that he made you swear to protect it."

"Even if that were true, why would I tell you?"

"Because," Luca said calmly, "if you don't, we'll have to assume you're working against us. And people who work against the Romano family don't usually live very long."

Fear shot through me like ice water. "You said you wouldn't hurt me."

"I said Elena wouldn't be hurt. I never said anything about you."

I looked from one brother to another, searching for any sign of kindness or mercy. Marco looked almost sorry. Dante seemed angry, but not at me. Nico was impossible to read.

But Luca's cold gray eyes held no warmth at all.

"Fine," I said. "There's a box. But it's just family stuff. Photos and letters and my parents' wedding rings."

"Where is it?"

"Hidden in my apartment. The apartment your friends probably destroyed looking for it."

"They're not our friends," Dante said sharply. "The Kozlovs are our enemies. Everything they do makes our lives harder."

"Then why don't you fight them instead of kidnapping innocent people?"

"Because innocent people sometimes have things we need," Luca said. "And right now, we need whatever your father left you more than we need to worry about your feelings."

His words hit me like a slap. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold back tears. "I want to go home."

"This is your home now," Marco said gently. "At least until we figure out what your father took from us."

"I don't understand any of this. Yesterday I was serving coffee and studying for my biology exam. Now you're telling me my father was some kind of criminal and I owe you millions of dollars for things I never did."

"Life changes fast," Nico said. "Especially when you're born into a world like this."

"I wasn't born into this world. I was born into a normal family with normal problems."

"No," Luca said. "You were born into this world. You just didn't know it yet. Your father made sure of that."

Dante sat down on the couch and looked at me with those intense green eyes. "Vincent Cross was a good man who made bad choices to protect his family. The money he took was supposed to be moved through our accounts to other families. When he kept it instead, he signed his own death warrant."

"My father died in a car accident."

"Your father died because someone cut his brake lines," Marco said quietly.

The room spun around me. I grabbed the back of a chair to keep from falling. "You're lying."

"We're not," Nico said. "Vincent knew someone was coming for him. That's why he hid the money and the information. That's why he made you promise to keep that box safe."

"Who killed him?" My voice came out as a whisper.

"We don't know," Luca admitted. "Could have been the Kozlovs. Could have been the Italians. Could have been any number of families who lost money when your father disappeared with our cash."

I sank into the chair, my legs too weak to hold me up anymore. "So everyone wants me dead."

"Not everyone," Dante said. "We want you alive. At least until you help us recover what was stolen."

"And after that?"

The brothers exchanged glances. Marco cleared his throat. "After that, we'll see."

"That's not very reassuring."

"It's honest," Luca said. "Which is more than most people in our business can offer."

I closed my eyes and tried to think. The wooden box was hidden in my closet, inside an old shoebox full of winter sweaters. If these men were telling the truth about my father, then whatever was in that box was worth killing for.

But if I gave it to them, what guarantee did I have that they'd let me go?

"I need proof," I said, opening my eyes.

"Proof of what?" Marco asked.

"Proof that my father really worked for you. Proof that he stole money. Proof that someone murdered him."

Luca pulled out his phone again and scrolled through something. Then he handed it to me.

The screen showed a bank statement. My father's name was on it, but the numbers didn't make sense. Deposits of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Withdrawals of even more.

"This account was opened six years ago," Luca explained. "Your father used it to move money between families. Clean money went in, dirty money came out. It was a good system."

"Until he got greedy," Nico added.

"My father wasn't greedy."

"Maybe not," Marco said. "Maybe he was just desperate. Your mother's treatments were expensive. The experimental drugs, the private hospital room, the best doctors money could buy."

"We understand why he did it," Dante said. "That doesn't mean we can let it go."

I scrolled through more bank records. The amounts were staggering. Millions of dollars flowing in and out of accounts I'd never heard of.

"How much did he actually steal?"

"Two million in cash," Luca said. "Plus computer files containing financial information about every major crime family on the East Coast."

"Information that could send a lot of people to prison," Marco added.

"Or make someone very rich if they sold it to the FBI," Nico said quietly.

I handed the phone back to Luca. "And you think this information is in my father's box?"

"We think it's somewhere he could access it quickly if he needed to," Luca said. "And we think he would have made sure you could find it if something happened to him."

"Because he loved you," Dante said. "And he knew that someday, someone would come looking for what he took."

A new wave of fear washed over me. "You think he wanted me to have this information?"

"I think he wanted you to have choices," Marco said. "And right now, your choices are very simple."

"Which are?"

"Help us find what we're looking for," Luca said. "Or spend the rest of your very short life running from people who want to kill you for it."

I stood up on shaking legs. "And if I help you?"

"Then you become part of this family," Dante said. "Protected. Safe. Rich."

"And trapped," I added.

Luca smiled, and for the first time, it looked almost genuine. "Isabella, you've been trapped since the day your father decided to steal from us. The only question is whether you're going to be a prisoner or a partner."

I looked around the room at four of the most dangerous men in New York. Men who could kill me without thinking twice. Men who held my life in their hands.

Men who, somehow, were offering me a choice.

"What exactly are you asking me to do?"

"Tomorrow, we're going to retrieve that box," Luca said. "You're going to open it, and you're going to give us everything inside."

"And then?"

"Then we decide if you're worth keeping alive."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Four pairs of eyes watched me, wai

ting for my answer.

"Do I have a choice?"

Luca's smile disappeared. "You'll be staying here until your father's debt is paid. That's not a choice, Isabella. That's a fact.”