ISABELLA

Chapter 41

Third pov

Later that afternoon, Isabella lounged on the plush sofa in the living room, scrolling through the streaming options on the television. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Nothing good ever comes on,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

The sudden creak of the doorway made her glance up, and her eyes immediately locked on Riccardo. He stepped into the room, shirtless, the sunlight catching the definition of his abs. Her breath hitched slightly despite herself.

He gave her a faint, amused smirk and walked over, leaning casually against the edge of the sofa. “Need some help choosing?” he asked, his voice low but teasing.

She arched an eyebrow, her gaze flicking down to his bare chest. “Seriously… shirtless?” she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is this some kind of intimidation tactic or…?”

Riccardo chuckled, shaking his head. “Not intimidation,” he said, dropping onto the couch beside her. “Just… comfort. And maybe to make you stop scrolling aimlessly and actually pick something.”

Isabella rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Right… sure. Comfort, huh?” she teased, handing him the remote.

He took it with a smirk, the muscles in his arm flexing slightly as he reached for the TV. “You know me,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. “Always looking out for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. “I think I can manage on my own,” she said, though her eyes lingered on him, betraying a small, unspoken appreciation for the effortless confidence he carried.

Riccardo leaned back, resting an arm along the back of the sofa, the sunlight highlighting the lines of his body. “Sure,” he said, teasing. “But sometimes even the best people need a little guidance.”

Isabella groaned, pressing the remote to her chest. “Fine, fine… you can help me pick. But only because I don’t want to argue with you.”

He grinned, leaning a fraction closer, the air between them charged with subtle, unspoken tension. “Good. Let’s see what we can find.”

Even though she tried to play it cool, the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her. And Riccardo, ever perceptive, noticed every little reaction, every glance.

Isabella finally settled back into the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her, while Riccardo leaned casually beside her, remote in hand. He scrolled through a few titles before stopping, glancing at her. “How about this one?” he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She squinted at the screen. “Romantic comedy?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Really? You know I usually go for thrillers or something with action.”

Riccardo smirked, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. “Hey, even the toughest people need a little cheesy romance sometimes. Trust me, it’s good for you.”

Isabella groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes, but her lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “Fine… fine, but only because you’re here, shirtless and distracting enough to ruin my concentration anyway.”

He laughed, the sound low and teasing, and leaned slightly closer, so their shoulders brushed. “Distracting, huh? That’s… a good thing, I think.”

As the movie started, Isabella tried to focus on the screen, but Riccardo’s presence was impossible to ignore. He stretched slightly, his arm brushing against hers, and she flinched, cheeks heating.

“You okay?” he asked casually, his tone teasing, watching her reaction carefully.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, though her voice betrayed a small stutter. She leaned a little away, though not too far, aware that part of her didn’t want to.

Riccardo’s grin widened. “Uh-huh. Sure you are.” He reached for the popcorn bowl and offered it to her. “Here, this should help you focus.”

She accepted it, pretending not to notice the way his fingers brushed hers. “Thanks,” she muttered, hiding the faint smile that threatened to betray her composure.

Throughout the movie, there was a delicate dance—shoulder brushes, playful glances, teasing remarks, all under the guise of casual company. Isabella tried to act indifferent, but every subtle touch made her heart race, her cheeks flush, and her mind wander to thoughts she didn’t quite want to admit.

Riccardo, perceptive as always, noticed her reactions and leaned back slightly, enjoying the subtle tension. He didn’t push, didn’t tease too overtly, but the playful energy between them was electric, charged with laughter, stolen glances, and unspoken flirtation.

The movie had ended, and the credits were rolling. Isabella and Riccardo were sprawled on the sofa, laughing uncontrollably at one of the ridiculous antics of a character on the screen. Isabella clutched her stomach, tears of laughter threatening to spill, while Riccardo shook his head, a wide grin stretching across his face.

“Can you believe that? Who even writes this stuff?” she gasped between laughs, wiping at her eyes.

Riccardo laughed along with her, nudging her shoulder lightly. “Honestly, I think that guy deserves an award for making everyone look ridiculous while acting serious.”

Before Isabella could respond, a deep, familiar voice cut through the room.

“Isabella.”

Both of them froze mid-laugh. Isabella turned, and so did Riccardo, to see Leo standing in the doorway. He looked immaculate, composed, but there was an undeniable tension radiating off him—his dark eyes locked on Isabella.

“Did you enjoy your movie?” Leo asked, his voice calm, almost deceptively gentle, but the sharpness beneath it made Isabella’s chest tighten.

Riccardo smirked, crossing his arms. “Are you jealous, Leo?” he said casually, though the teasing glint in his eyes did little to hide the provocation.

Leo’s gaze snapped to Riccardo, piercing, cold. He didn’t answer immediately, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied them both. Then, turning back to Isabella, his expression softened slightly—but the command in his tone remained unmistakable.

“Isabella… follow me,” he said, his words leaving no room for argument.

Isabella hesitated, caught between amusement at Riccardo’s teasing and the magnetic pull of Leo’s presence. Her stomach tightened, a mixture of anticipation, curiosity, and the possessive tension that always seemed to follow him. She glanced at Riccardo, whose smirk lingered, and then back at Leo, whose dark eyes held hers, unwavering.

“Uh… okay,” she murmured finally, her voice low, almost breathless.

Leo gestured for her to move past him, and as she did, Riccardo leaned back on the sofa, arms crossed, a teasing grin still on his face. “Don’t get too bossy with her,” he called after her, voice playful but carrying a warning undercurrent.