ISABELLA

Chapter 17

Leo’s POV

Matteo stepped in, looking uneasy. I didn’t care. My eyes snapped to him immediately.

“Leo… dobbiamo parlare.” (Leo… we need to talk.)

“Che succede?” (What’s happening?)

Matteo hesitated, then spoke. “C’è stata… una rissa al parco. Una gang… e Isabella era lì.” (There was… a fight at the park. A gang… and Isabella was there.)

I froze, my chest tightening. “Cosa?! Era al parco? Sta bene?!” (What?! She was at the park? Is she okay?!)

Matteo swallowed. “Sì… ma Riccardo era lì.” (Yes… but Riccardo was there.)

I felt heat rise through me. My hands clenched into fists. “Che… Riccardo era lì? Lui… proteggeva Isabella?!” (What… Riccardo was there? He… was protecting Isabella?!)

Matteo nodded. “Ha fatto in modo che non si facesse male… ha fermato la gang.” (He made sure she wasn’t hurt… he stopped the gang.)

Anger surged through me, sharp and burning. I paced, voice rising. “Perché cazzo non l’hai protetta tu?!” (Why the f**k didn’t you protect her yourself?!)

“Perché l’hai lasciata a Riccardo?!” (Why did you leave her to Riccardo?!)

Matteo tried to explain, but I cut him off. “Non capisco! Se qualcosa fosse successo… se Riccardo l’avesse ferita… io dovevo essere lì! Io dovevo proteggerla!” (I don’t understand! If something had happened… if Riccardo had hurt her… I was supposed to be there! I had to protect her!)

Matteo spoke carefully. “Leo… ho fatto il possibile… ma Riccardo è arrivato prima. Isabella è sana, illesa.” (Leo… I did what I could… but Riccardo got there first. Isabella is safe, unharmed.)

I slammed my hand on the desk, rage spilling over. “Illesa… sì… ma non basta! Nessuno deve toccarla! Solo io!” (Unharmed… yes… but it’s not enough! No one must touch her! Only me!)

Matteo stayed silent, waiting. My chest heaved, mind racing. “Riccardo… se pensa di proteggere Isabella da me… dovrà imparare che nessuno la tocca senza il mio permesso. Capito?” (Riccardo… if he thinks he can protect Isabella from me… he’ll have to learn that no one touches her without my permission. Understand?)

“Capito, Leo,” Matteo murmured.

I turned to the window, heart pounding, mind racing. Isabella was safe… for now. But anyone else who came near her… would regret it.

I didn’t wait another second. My fingers flew across the phone, dialing her number before Matteo could even suggest caution.

“Isabella… dove sei?” (Isabella… where are you?) I asked the moment she picked up, voice tight with worry.

“I’m at the café,” she said, her tone calm, but I could hear the faint background hum of voices and dishes.

“Rest there. I’m coming,” I muttered, already moving toward the door.

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When I pulled up in front of the café, I slowed just enough to see her. And then I saw him. Riccardo.

He was talking to her, close, authoritative, protective. His hand gestured casually as she listened, nodding politely. My stomach twisted, a cold burn igniting in my chest.

I didn’t move immediately, just stared through the windshield. A thousand emotions clashed inside me—worry, relief, and… something darker. Possessiveness. Jealousy. Rage.

She looked up at him, smiled slightly, then laughed at whatever he had said. My jaw clenched. That smile, that laugh… it was mine to provoke, mine to protect. Not his.

I killed the engine, stepping out of the car with long, deliberate strides. Every movement radiated warning. My gaze locked on them as I approached.

I stormed into the café, eyes locking on Riccardo first. Calm, infuriatingly composed, he didn’t move. But my anger radiated through every step.

“Leo,” Riccardo said, smirking slightly, eyes flicking to Isabella. “Non ti aspettavo così veloce.” (Leo… I didn’t expect you so fast.)

I gritted my teeth. “Perché cazzo eri con lei?!” (Why the f**k were you with her?!) My voice was sharp, every word a threat.

Riccardo leaned casually against the counter, crossing his arms. “È solo una ragazza, Leo. Non capisco perché ti arrabbi così tanto.” (She’s just a girl, Leo. I don’t understand why you’re so angry.)

I took a step closer, voice dropping low, dangerous. “Ti chiedo di non toccare ciò che è mio.” (I ask you not to touch what’s mine.)

He laughed softly, a sound designed to irritate. “Mia madre non ti ha insegnato che le persone non sono oggetti? Non è una tua merce, Leo.” (Didn’t your mother teach you that people aren’t objects? She’s not your property, Leo.)

My jaw tightened, my hands curling into fists, but I didn’t take my eyes off her. “Non è un carico, lo so… ma lei è mia. Capito?” (She’s not a shipment, I know… but she’s mine. Understand?)

Riccardo smirked, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. “Sembra che tu non capisca davvero come funziona il mondo.” (Seems like you don’t really understand how the world works.)

I didn’t respond. I stepped forward, grabbed Isabella’s hand, and pulled her toward the door. She stumbled, surprised, struggling to keep up.

“Leo… wait!” she protested, trying to pull free.

I spun her around gently but firmly, pressing her against me just enough to hold her steady. “Stai ferma,” I said, voice low and commanding. (Stay still.)

Her eyes searched mine, wide with confusion and fear. But I didn’t let go. I guided her toward the car, my grip steady, unrelenting, ensuring she couldn’t slip away.

Once inside the car, she tried to move, her hands pressing against my chest. I pinned her gently but firmly against the seat. “Resta ferma,” I repeated, voice sharp. (Stay still.)

Her struggle was brief. My gaze never left hers, filled with obsession, with possession. “È finita,” I whispered. (It’s over.)

She finally stilled, and I released just enough to let her breathe, though my presence filled the small space completely.

Myhands tight on the wheel, my mind spinning faster than the city lights outside. Isabella was beside me, tense, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“I… I don’t want to get between you two,” she said abruptly, voice sharp with frustration. “Just… leave me out of this madness!”

Her words hit me like a punch. My chest tightened, anger flaring hot and sharp. “Leave you out of this?” I repeated, my voice low, dangerous. “Isabella… do you think I’ll let anyone touch you? Let anyone get close to you?”

She turned to me, eyes blazing with defiance. “Leo… this isn’t healthy! I’m not some… some prize you fight over! I can’t be caught in your world like this!”

I said nothing at first. My grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles white. Every pulse in my body screamed at me— own her, keep her.

Without another word, I jerked the wheel sharply and parked the car harshly by the side of the road. Tires squealed, the city blurring outside the window. I killed the engine and turned toward her, every inch of my posture radiating possession and obsession.

My gaze bore into hers, unyielding. Dark, stormy, filled with jealousy. “Do you really think I’ll let her… or him… or anyone take you from me?” I whispered, voice low, lethal.

Isabella’s lips parted, words caught somewhere between defiance and fear. But I didn’t let her speak. I leaned closer, every movement precise, every second a warning: she belonged to me, no one else.

She tried to pull back slightly, but my presence filled the small space, suffocating, relentless. “Stay,” I commanded, voice smooth but edged with danger. “You’re not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

Her eyes searched mine, wide, frustrated… terrified. But in that moment, I didn’t care what she thought. My jealousy, my obsession, my need to possess her entirely, consumed everything.

And I knew—anyone who came near her again would regret it.

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When we pulled up in front of her house, I killed the engine. She shifted, finally breaking the tense quiet.

“I’ll… I’ll be fine from here,” she said softly, glancing toward the porch.

I nodded once, still watching her, my chest tight with lingering possessiveness. But as she opened the door, I noticed a figure standing on the front porch—a young man waiting casually, leaning against the railing.

“Chi è quello?” I asked sharply, eyes narrowing. (Who’s that?)

Isabella turned to me, calm but firm, like she always did when she wanted to assert control. “Mio cugino,” she said simply. (My cousin.)

I studied him carefully. There was something familiar about his stance, protective but relaxed, watching her like a hawk. My jaw tightened, a flash of jealousy flickering across me.

She gave me a small, almost apologetic smile. “He’s… just my cousin, Leo. He’s waiting for me.”

I said nothing, only exhaled slowly, forcing the tightness in my chest down. My gaze lingered on her for a long moment, possessive, obsessive, and unrelenting.

Finally, I stepped out, hand resting briefly on the door as if making a silent claim. “Stay safe,” I murmured, voice low, warning-laced.

She nodded, turned toward Nico, and disappeared inside. I watched her go, every inch of me consumed by the thought that no one—no one—could ever take her from me.

I sat in the driver’s seat for a long moment, watching the house, the porch, feeling the simmering heat of jealousy and obsession that refused to let me rest.

I started the engine, the low rumble of the car filling the tense silence around me.

I gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white. No one would get that close to her again. Not Riccardo. Not anyone. My obsession coiled around me like a live wire, making my thoughts sharp, dangerous.

Her words earlier—telling me to leave her out of the madness—echoed in my mind. Frustrating. Infuriating. How dare she speak like that? She belonged in my world, whether she realized it or not. And I would make sure she never questioned it again.