Page 64 of Prince of Vice

I admire her tenacity, even as it threatens to tear us apart. "I just want to protect you," I whisper, praying she'll understand.

"Then let me protect you too," she pleads, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Let's face this together, as equals."

“This is not up for debate," I say, my voice firm but gentle.

"Like hell it's not!" she retorts, her eyes blazing with defiance. "You're really going to stand there and tell me you're doing this for my safety? I don't buy it. Is it that you don't trust me to handle the trial?"

"Of course I trust you," I insist, feeling my chest tighten with frustration. "But your safety comes first."

She continues to pace the room, her naked form a mesmerizing dance of shadows and light as she moves. "This is ridiculous! The judge won't even likely grant a motion this close to the trial!"

"Then I'll have to get the case moved to a judge who will take a bribe and grant such a motion," I reply, my words tasting bitter in my mouth.

Her anger boils over at that. "You're going back on everything we agreed upon! We were going to do this the right way – no bribes, no dirty tricks!"

"I have no other options," I plead, my heart aching at the thought of losing her. "I cannot risk your safety."

“That is my risk to take!" she all but screams, tears pooling in her eyes. "I made the decision to defend you knowingly. You can't rob me of that choice.

“If you do this to me, it will destroy my career. Everyone will think I'm being released because I'm incompetent, is that it?" Her voice trembles with a mix of rage and pain.

"If it does ruin your career, I will take care of you," I say, but that doesn't improve her rage.

"Well, I've got news for you: I don't need to work for you. I don't need to be a mobster's live-in fuck toy!"

"Isabella–" I try to interrupt, but she continues.

"I thought you knew me better than that. I want a better life, not just for myself, but for you, too. I thought that once this trial was over, maybe – just maybe – you might consider having a different sort of life. One that we could share together."

Her words pierce through my defenses, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. I can't help but imagine a future with her, one where the shadows of our pasts no longer haunt us. But is it possible? Can I atone for the sins of my family, the darkness that has consumed me for so long?

"Isabella," I breathe, reaching out to touch her arm, but she pulls away, the hurt in her eyes a reflection of my own. "I don't want to hurt you. I only want to protect you."

"Then trust me," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart. "Let's face this together, as equals."

I'm quiet as I think about her words, feeling her gaze on me. She's waiting for a response, but my thoughts are tangled with images of the life we could've had if not for the choices I made. A life with my son, watching him grow up, and now, perhaps, a life with Isabella – full of love, laughter, and warmth. The thought warms my heart.

But when I don't give her the answer she seeks, her anger breaks down into tears. She sits on the floor, burying her face in her hands, her body shaking with sobs. I feel terrible for what I'm doing to her; I'm only trying to protect her.

I get up from the bed and go to her, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet beneath us. Her tears sting my soul, and I yearn to wrap her in my arms and shield her from the world. Yet when I reach for her, she pushes me away, rejecting my comfort. We end up struggling against one another, a dance of desperation and pain.

"Stop," she says through gritted teeth, her fists clenched at her sides. "Just stop."

"Isabella, I–" But before I can finish, she tells me no and ends up punching me in the jaw.

The impact reverberates through my skull, and I stumble back a step. For a moment, we both just stare at each other, frozen in time. Then the silence is broken by her apology.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her eyes wide with shock. "I don't know what came over me."

I laugh despite the lingering sting of her blow, rubbing my jaw tenderly. "You've got a pretty good right hook. If you ever tire of being a lawyer, you should consider cage fighting."

Her lips curve into a small, reluctant smile. "The professions are basically the same thing, aren't they?"

We share a laugh. But as the laughter fades, the silence returns, heavy and oppressive.

"Isabella," I say, my voice soft and full of regret. "I didn't mean to upset you or disrespect you. The events of last night were so troubling for me...finding you with that hood over your head, fearing those disgusting men may have touched you at all...it was too much for me to bear."

She looks at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and nods. "I understand. That's how I feel about you in your line of work."