I S A B E L L A
"Who said I'm afraid?" I speak up, almost forgetting to do so after getting so lost in his appearance. Get yourself together damn it.
He says nothing, but I catch a knowing glint in his eyes before he turns his attention back to the road, his hands strong and sure on the wheel. I'm struck by how effortlessly he exudes control, every movement purposeful. As I settle back in my seat, I feel the air shift subtly between us, thickening with the silence. I can't help but steal a glance at him, but he catches me, his mouth twitching slightly in amusement. My face flushes, and I quickly look away.
"Your mood has become sour," he comments, breaking the silence again. I don't have to look at him to know he's smirking.
"Has it?" I reply, arching an eyebrow, determined not to let
