ISABELLA

Chapter 26

Third pov

The door shut behind her with a soft thud, and Isabella finally let out the breath she’d been holding since the car ride. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to steady the rush of emotions clawing at her chest.

Anger. Fear. Confusion.

And beneath it all… something she hated to admit. Something that felt too much like longing.

She threw her clutch onto the bed and sat down, kicking off her heels with sharp movements.

A gentle knock came at her door. Before Isabella could answer, the door creaked open and Aria slipped inside, a silk nightgown draped over her arm.

“I figured you didn’t have anything comfortable for tonight,” Aria said softly, holding out the gown. It shimmered in the low light, soft and expensive against Isabella’s fingers when she took it.

“Thanks,” Isabella murmured, her voice still rough with the remnants of her anger.

Aria walked further in and perched herself on the edge of the bed, watching her carefully. “Don’t mind Leo,” she said at last, her tone a mix of sisterly exasperation and quiet sadness.

Isabella let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t mind him? He dragged me to a meeting where people pulled guns on each other, like that’s normal. He didn’t even flinch.”

“That’s because it is normal for him,” Aria admitted, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Leo doesn’t know how to… soften things. How to explain himself. He lost all of that the day our mother died.”

The sharp edges in Isabella’s heart softened a little, against her will.

Aria glanced up again, her voice lowering. “He doesn’t mean to hurt you. But he doesn’t know any other way to protect what he cares about. And trust me—” she leaned closer, a small smile tugging at her lips— “if you’ve managed to rattle Leonardo Deluca like this, then he cares a hell of a lot more than he wants to admit.”

Isabella’s chest tightened. She looked away, clutching the silk gown in her hands. “I don’t know if I can forgive him. I don’t know if I want to.”

“Then don’t. Not yet,” Aria said gently. “But… maybe give him a chance to prove that there’s more to him than the man you saw tonight.”

Isabella sighed, a part of her wanting to believe Aria, another part terrified of what believing would mean.

“Goodnight, Isa,” Aria said finally, standing to leave. “And wear the gown. It’ll help you sleep.”

When the door closed, Isabella stared at the silk nightgown in her lap, her fingers tracing its softness.

she wondered if she wasn’t just trapped in Leo’s world… but slowly, dangerously, becoming part of it.

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Sleep didn’t come easily. Isabella tossed beneath the silk sheets, her mind replaying the night over and over—the glint of guns, the coldness in Leo’s voice, the way he looked at her like she was both a burden and something he’d kill to protect.

And then, somewhere between her frustration and exhaustion, her body betrayed her.

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He stepped closer, every inch of him commanding the space. She should’ve moved, should’ve resisted, she couldn’t. Her breath hitched when his fingers trailed up her arm, slow and deliberate.

“Did you roll your eyes at me again, Isabella?” His voice was low, dark, almost taunting.

She wanted to snap back, to tell him yes, but her lips parted with a breathless sound instead. His hand slid to her waist, gripping her as though he owned her.

The boutique around them melted away. Suddenly she was pressed against a wall, his body caging hers in, his scent overwhelming—smoke, leather, danger. He tilted her chin up, and her knees nearly gave out at the intensity in his gaze.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured, before his mouth claimed hers.

It wasn’t gentle. It was rough, consuming, everything she secretly craved but would never admit. She melted against him, her fingers clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer. His lips moved to her neck, biting softly, making her gasp.

Herself whispered his name like a confession. “Leo…”

Clothes became nothing but a blur, heat replacing fabric, his hands roaming her body like he’d been waiting years to touch her. He pushed her down onto silk sheets that weren’t hers but felt so real, hovering above her with that same look of obsession she’d seen earlier that night.

“You’re mine,” he growled against her skin, Isabella didn’t fight it. She arched into him, surrendering, drowning in a fire she couldn’t escape.

Everything unraveled into heat, moans, and desperate touches until everything blurred into white.

When she jolted awake, her body was damp with sweat, her chest rising and falling as though she’d truly lived it. She sat frozen, clutching the sheets, furious at herself for wanting him even in her sleep.

“God,” she whispered. “What the hell is happening to me?”

Then her eyes fell on him.

Leo.

He was sitting casually in a chair in the corner of her room, like a shadow she hadn’t noticed, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers. The smoke curled lazily in the air, but his eyes—those cold, sharp, obsidian eyes—were fixed on her.

Her heart stopped. “What the hell are you doing in here?” she snapped, clutching the sheets tighter as if they could shield her from his gaze.

Leo didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He inhaled slowly, then tapped the ash into the tray on the small table beside him. His voice, when it came, was calm but edged with steel.

“What did you dream about, Isabella?”

Her mouth went dry. She blinked, hoping she had misheard. “Excuse me?”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze never wavering. “You were moaning,” he said flatly, his tone void of any softness. “Restless. Clutching the sheets like someone was touching you.” His eyes flicked deliberately down to where the silk clung to her body before meeting hers again. “And then you whispered my name.”

Her stomach dropped. Heat rushed to her cheeks, her skin prickling with humiliation and anger. “You— you were watching me sleep?” she spat.

He gave a humorless smirk. “I wasn’t watching. I was listening. There’s a difference.” He tilted his head, his voice lowering, laced with quiet possession. “So I’ll ask you again, Isabella—was it about me?”

She swallowed hard, her pulse thundering in her ears. Every nerve screamed at her to lie, to deny it, to throw it back in his face. But the weight of his gaze pinned her in place, like he could see through every wall she tried to put up.

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped, trying to sound confident though her voice cracked slightly.

Leo chuckled, low and dangerous, rising to his feet. He moved toward her, slow, deliberate, every step making the air heavier. “It is my business,” he said, stopping at the edge of her bed. His presence was suffocating, his shadow falling over her. “Because while you might try to lie with your mouth, your body tells the truth.”

She turned her face away, but he reached down, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. His touch was firm, almost bruising, and his eyes burned into hers with that same dangerous obsession.

“You think I didn’t hear it?” he murmured. “You think I didn’t hear you beg for me in your sleep?”

Her breath hitched, her nails digging into the sheets. “I wasn’t—”

“You were.” His thumb brushed along her jaw, deceptively gentle compared to the steel in his voice. “And I’ll let you keep pretending it didn’t happen. For now.” He leaned closer, his lips grazing her ear, his voice dropping to a dark whisper. “But one day, Isabella, I won’t have to ask what you dream about. I’ll be the one giving you those dreams.”

Her entire body trembled, torn between fury and the undeniable truth that part of her wanted exactly what he threatened.

Leo pulled back suddenly, as if he hadn’t just shattered her defenses. He straightened, cold and composed again. “Get dressed. Breakfast in twenty minutes,” he ordered, his tone clipped and commanding. Without another glance, he walked out, leaving the air thick with the ghost of his presence.

Isabella sat frozen, heart racing, her face burning with both shame and want. She hated him. God, she hated him.

But deep down, she knew—her body didn’t.