Isabella’s POV
I let the bottle slip from my hands, my body going slack in a way that could be mistaken for weakness. His palms immediately framed my face, tilting it upward until his dark eyes swallowed my whole view.
“You okay?” His voice was softer now, almost coaxing.
For someone who had been spewing venom at me minutes ago, he sure had a twisted idea of care. Was this real? Or was he just keeping me calm before breaking me apart piece by piece? I’d heard psychopaths live for that…lure you in with a hint of comfort, then rip the ground out from under you.
I didn’t answer. My focus had narrowed to one thing: that phone.
He sat on the bed beside me, cradling my head like I was fragile glass. I started coughing…loud, hacking bursts that made him sit up straighter. “Easy,” he muttered
