Tension in the Air

The air in the room seemed to thicken with the stranger stepping fully inside, the overhead light dimming yet sharply outlining his features. Santino sensed the dark eyes of his intruder flicking between him and Izzy, assessing, calculating. Izzy instinctively straightened in her chair, her muscles tense as she fought the urge to bolt.

"Who's this?" Izzy asked, her voice steady while all the confusion was going around inside her.

Santino offered a quick, humorless smile. "This is Antonio," he said, pointing to the man. "One of my biggest trusted advisors."

Antonio inclined his head slightly. "You must be Isabella Moretti." His voice was smooth, yet the sharpness in it made her stomach churn. "Santino has great things to say about you."

"Does he?" Izzy said coolly, casting a fierce look at Santino. "I don't see why. We're not exactly friends."

Santino laughed, a low, nearly disarming sound. "Not yet," he replied, taking his seat across from her once again. "But I have hope."

Antonio stepped closer to Santino and whispered, leaning down to speak in his ear. "We need to talk. Something's come up."

Santino's jaw tightened, and for one second that confident facade of his slipped. He nodded once and then turned back to Izzy. "Give me a moment," he said, politely but firmly. He stood and followed Antonio to the room's far corner, where the murmur of their talk was tense but hushed.

Izzy couldn't hear the words, but she felt something was wrong. Santino's body language and Antonio's fast hand movements showed that trouble was coming. Her instincts told her to leave, to run while she still could.

But she didn't. Was it curiosity, stubbornness, or something else? She just didn't know.

A few moments later Santino came back to the table, his expression now carefully neutral. Antonio stayed by the door, making sure that they did not forget the importance of what was to happen.

"Sorry for the interruption," Santino said, sitting back down and folding his hands over the table. "Where were we so far?"

Izzy didn’t miss a beat when he said, "You were trying to convince me to betray my family."

Santino’s lips twitched into a small smile, but his eyes were still grave. "I wouldn’t say it like that. I’m asking you to consider what family needs the most. Yourself."

"And you think aligning with you is what's best?" she retorted, folding her arms. "You've got a hell of a lot to show me, dragging me to some dark, empty place and hurling cryptic warnings at me."

Santino leaned a little forward, his eyes pinned to hers. "I’m truthful, Izzy. More than anyone else in your life at the moment. Your brother is destroying the Moretti family. He is consumed by pride and vengeance. If he continues like this, there will be no family left to save."

Her heart raced; what he said was too close for comfort. She saw the loopholes in Giovanni’s leadership; how he overrode warnings and blew off advice. But it was receiving the same from Santino, of all people, that caused her belly to churn.

Peering through her lashes she asked, "And what’s in it for you?" more quietly now but no less pointed. "You’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart so why do you care what happens to my family?"

Santino’s smile slipped for a second and, for one moment, he looked almost... vulnerable. "If the Morettis fall, the DeLucas will soon follow them. A war like this doesn’t end with one family winning. It ends with both families destroyed. I’m trying to prevent that from happening."

Izzy scrutinized him for a hint of lying. His explanation was reasonable, but that didn't help her trust him. To trust DeLuca was the fastest way to get dead.

"And suppose I say no?" she finally asked. "Suppose I walk away from here and refuse to have anything to do with you?"

Santino’s face hardened, and his voice fell to a dangerously low pitch. "Then you’re going to leave your family in a fight they can’t win, basically provoked. And you’ll be gambling with your own life, Izzy."

"Because once this war escalates, nobody will be safe--not even you."

His words weighed heavily upon her shoulders but she would not have had it a whit the other way. It bothered her that he was right. It bothered her that he seemed to see right into her heart when she did not want him to. But above all else, she loathed herself for suspecting that just maybe, deep down, there was some truth in what he said.

Before she could respond, Antonio's voice broke through the tension. "Santino. We have to leave."

Santino’s head snapped toward him, his expression unreadable. "What’s wrong?"

Antonio hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly to Izzy before returning to Santino. "There’s been a hit. One of ours."

Santino cursed under his breath, for the first time cracking his calm composure. He stood up abruptly, sharp and purposeful in his movements. "Who?"

"Vincenzo," Antonio replied, his voice grim. "It was clean. Professional."

Izzy's stomach dropped hearing the name. Vincenzo DeLuca was one of Santino's major lieutenants, known for his ruthlessness but also his loyalty. If someone had killed him, that was not simply an attack but a declaration.

Santino turned back to Izzy, his face showing frustration and yet resolve. "I have to handle this," he said, tightly. "But we’re not done talking."

He signaled to Antonio. Antonio opened the door and waved them out. Izzy followed, but reluctantly. Her head was spinning with all she had just heard. Tonight had taken a much darker turn and she couldn’t help feeling that this was just the beginning.

The cool night air was a slap against the skin as she stepped outside and turned to Santino one last time. "You’re asking a lot from me," she said, though her voice was steady while inside her the tempest swirled. "I don’t know if I can give it to you."

Santino's gaze softened, and for a second, he almost looked human. "Just think about it, Izzy. That's all I’m asking."

And thus he vanished in the dead of night, to leave her in loneliness with her thoughts – a growing conviction that she shares no more of life.