Kissed by the Enemy

Chapter 3

c**k crows in the morning to mark the sun rise of the day

Jacob, Isabella and Isaac are already up and training intensively with Jacob's men.

They take pairs with some men and combat, shoot and show skill in the most precise way ever.

The next round comes, it's Isaac's turn, and he picked a man who goes by Xani.

Xani is a middle-aged, quiet man, and anyone who underestimates him gets it hot.

"Hey, you, " Isaac called

Everyone turns back to see his hand pointed at Xani.

"Me?" Xani asked

"Yes, you or are you afraid?" he mocks

Jacob steps back, smiles as he likes his son's bravery, but knows what comes for him and hopes for the best with his son

"Do you know me? " Isaac mocks

"I have slain and beaten men like you, and you will be no exception," Isaac says with pride as Xani comes to the battlefield ground

The two kept fighting, but until Xani was wise enough to play a move so nice that Isaac was taken aback and fell.

Isaac fell and stood up with rage, and shouted

"Again "

They combated, and Xani won

Isaac was furious as he had never gotten beaten before

"Again, he shouted."

They combated, and he lost again

'Again," Isaac said again

"Stop," Jacob said

"It's enough for today. Go to your houses and rest. Tomorrow is a busier day," Jacob said

"You come with me," Jacob said as he turned to Isaac

" I know what you will say, Dad,but I am sorry , I know I embarrassed you there, but he kept......",

"Enough, "Jacob said

"Combat is not only about skill, smell, speed and strategy, it's about you, your mindset, how you can channel your inner anger to produce results wisely, you don't just do this rationally, you apply wisdom."

"Your first mistake was to underestimate him. In combat, never underestimate anyone. Always on alert. That's how I knew that you were doomed. Secondly, Xani is one of our skillful warriors, you didn't know what you were putting yourself into".

"Yes, Dad I understan, " Isaac said, slightly putting his head down slowly

"Learn the ancient way of combat, master it," Jacob advised

"Yes, Father."

*************************************************

The black car sliced through the winding hills, its engine growling like a panther beneath Isabella Moretti’s control. Her sunglasses reflected the dying gold of the evening sun as she sped past cypress trees and high iron gates. She looked like a storm in silk—dark hair pinned back, lips a dangerous crimson, mind sharper than any blade her father ever taught her to use.

The mansion came into view—a Romanesque fortress perched on the edge of the cliff, shadowed by power and legacy. She swerved cleanly into the gravel driveway, tires crunching, and killed the engine. For a moment, she sat still, watching the horizon, letting the silence speak louder than anything inside her.

Then, she felt it.

A presence.

She slid her sunglasses off, stepping out of the car, heels clicking sharply against stone. The ocean breeze teased the hem of her black coat as her eyes landed on him.

Luca Romano.

Leaning against a matte black motorcycle like he owned the air around him, he looked up, unfazed, amused even. Tall, tanned, a slight scar slicing through his left brow—he wasn’t supposed to be here.

But he was.

And damn if he didn’t make it look like he belonged.

"Didn’t think you'd be home so soon, Moretti," he said coolly, pushing off the bike and sauntering toward her. His voice was smooth with a dangerous undertone, like whiskey spiked with something illegal.

Isabella narrowed her eyes. “You’re on my land.”

“And you’re still breathtaking.” His smile was infuriating. “I’d say we’re even.”

She took a step forward, ignoring the way her pulse betrayed her. “What do you want, Romero?”

“A conversation.” He stopped just short of her. “Just that. No blood. No blades. Not tonight.”

“Since when do the Romano's come unarmed?”

He smirked. “Who says I’m unarmed?”

Her eyes flicked briefly to the leather jacket, noting the weight on his left side, then back to his face. “This better be good.”

“It is,” he said, softer now. “Because the war our fathers started is going to end. One way or another. And I want to know"

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to something private.

“Which side you be on when it does?”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind picked up, rustling the olive trees behind them. Somewhere far off, thunder rolled.

Isabella tilted her head. “Careful, Romano,” she whispered. “You’re starting to sound like a man I could almost trust.”

He smiled like that was the most dangerous thing she could’ve said.