ISABELLA

Chapter 20

Leo’s POV

I lit my cigarette and leaned against the hood of the car, waiting.

Then the front door creaked opened.

She stopped dead when her eyes found me.

“Leo…” her voice was hesitant, almost annoyed, “what are you doing here?”

I blew out smoke slowly, studying her. “Waiting for you, bella mia.”

She adjusted the strap of her bag and started down the steps. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Where?” I asked, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.

“An interview. For a job.” She said it firmly, chin tilted up, like she was daring me to argue.

A sharp laugh left my chest. “A job?” I pushed off the car, closing the distance between us. “You think you need that?”

“Yes, Leo.” Her eyes flared with frustration. “Not everyone lives in a castle of blood money. I need something of my own.”

I stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at me. “No.” My voice was steel. “You don’t need to work. Not when men like me exist around you.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off, gripping her wrist—not hard, just enough to remind her who I was. “Get in the car.”

“Leo—”

“Dentro, subito.” (Inside, now.)

She froze at the edge in my tone, the kind that didn’t allow negotiation. Still, I caught the flicker of defiance in her eyes before she sighed and yanked her wrist free, storming to the passenger side.

Good. She listened. But I knew she hated it.

And that only made my chest burn hotter.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The stylist rushed out the moment we entered, bowing slightly before greeting me in Italian. I cut her off with a single gesture. My eyes never left Isabella.

“She needs a gown,” I ordered. “Tonight.”

Isabella blinked, stunned. “Tonight? What are you talking about?”

I stepped into her space, tilting her chin up between my fingers. “I have a dinner. Important people. Men who’d kill to see me falter. And you, bella, will be by my side.”

She tried to pull back, her brows furrowing. “Leo, I didn’t agree to—”

“You don’t have to agree,” I interrupted, my tone sharp but low, dangerous. “You’re coming. And when they see you………

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but then the stylist approached with an armful of gowns. Silks that shimmered like moonlight, velvets that carried the weight of royalty, every one chosen to draw attention.

Isabella folded her arms. “I’m not trying them on.”

My jaw ticked. I leaned down, close enough for her to feel my breath at her ear. “Do not test me, Isabella. You think I dragged you out of your house for nothing? You think I’d let Riccardo or anyone else lay eyes on you looking unworthy of my name?” My hand slid down her arm, firm, possessive. “No. You’ll wear what I choose.”

She shivered, torn between defiance and the heat I knew I stirred in her. Finally, she allowed the stylist to lead her toward the fitting rooms.

I had sat down, leaning back in the chair like I wasn’t interested, but truth was… I was waiting.

The stylist had pulled her into the fitting rooms with a dozen gowns, all expensive, all things my mother once handpicked for women who wanted to feel like queens. But Isabella wasn’t like them. She wasn’t trying to impress. She didn’t even want to be here. And yet—when the curtain slid open and she stepped out—

My world stopped.

The gown was midnight silk, the kind that clung to her figure like it had been stitched onto her skin, every shimmer catching the light of the chandeliers. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in loose waves, her face free of pretense, but God—she didn’t need anything else. She didn’t just look beautiful. She looked breathtaking.

I forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Isabella fidgeted under my stare, smoothing her hands over the fabric nervously. “It’s too much,” she muttered. “I can’t wear this.”

Too much?

I stood. Slowly. Each step toward her felt heavier than the last, like gravity itself wanted to anchor me to her. When I reached her, I didn’t speak. I only circled her, letting my eyes drag shamelessly over every curve, every detail. My chest tightened painfully—like some part of me knew I was ruined forever.

When I finally stopped in front of her, I tilted her chin up with my thumb and forefinger. Her wide eyes met mine, and for once, I couldn’t hide the truth burning in me.

“You…” My voice came out rough, lower than I intended. “Sei… bellissima.”

(You are… breathtaking.)

Color rushed to her cheeks, and she tried to look away, but I didn’t let her.

“You walk into a room like this,” I said slowly, deliberately, “and men will forget their deals, their guns, their wars. They’ll only see you.” My jaw clenched, and I leaned closer, letting her feel the weight of my stare. “And that’s exactly why I can’t let anyone else have you.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to protest, but no sound came out. She looked fragile under my gaze, but there was fire in her too—fire that made me want to burn everything else to ashes just to keep her.

“Perfetta,” I murmured, finally letting her chin go. “That’s the one. That’s what you’ll wear tonight.”

I stepped back, but not before my hand brushed the silk at her waist, possessive, deliberate.

She shook her head softly, almost to herself. “Leo… this isn’t me.”

I gave her a faint, dangerous smile. “It is now.”