Isabella’s voice came out in a whisper, fragile but firm.
“Tell him I am busy.”
There was a short pause on the other side of the door.
Martha hesitated. “Ma, are you sure you are alright? You sound different.”
Isabella closed her eyes for a second, forcing her breathing to steady. She could still feel Gabriel too close, still feel the heat of his presence lingering in the room like something that refused to leave.
“I am fine, Martha,” she said quickly, softer now, trying to sound normal. “I just need rest.”
From behind her, she felt it before she even saw it.
Gabriel’s hands.
Slow, unhurried, sliding lightly along her waist and then down, not rough, not forceful, but dangerously confident as if he already knew she would not push him away completely.
Her breath caught.
“Gabriel,”
