Chapter 66
Isabella’s POV By the time I managed to drag myself out of bed and into something decent, the house already smelled of breakfast. My legs felt like lead, and every step down the stairs sent a dull ache shooting up my thighs. I winced, gripping the railing for balance. God, why does it still hurt this much? I finally made it to the dining room, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Matteo and Riccardo were already seated, halfway through their food. Aria sat beside Riccardo, chattering about something animatedly, and Sabrina—of course—was sipping orange juice like she owned the place. He was leaning back in his chair at the head of the table, a cup of coffee in one hand, his phone in the other. The moment he heard my steps, he looked up. That smirk. That damn knowing smirk curved his lip
- Writer
