Mine Through Lies

Part-B (The Terrace Of Moonlight)

Salvatore extended his hand toward her.

“Come with me, Princess.”

Isabella placed her hand in his without hesitation.

A faint smile touched his lips as his fingers closed around hers, warm and steady.

He led her out of the room slowly, guiding her through the quiet hallway and down the staircase. Their hands remained linked the entire time, and with every step, Isabella felt her heart grow a little lighter.

At the end of the corridor, he opened a set of glass doors.

Cool evening air brushed against her skin.

And then she saw it.

The terrace had been transformed.

For a moment, Isabella forgot to breathe.

Candles flickered in every corner, their golden flames dancing softly in the night breeze. White roses and crimson petals were scattered along the stone floor. Above them, the moon hung bright and full, pouring silver light across the terrace and making the entire place look as if it belonged to a dream.

At the center stood a beautifully arranged table for two.

Soft music drifted through the air.

The city lights shimmered far below.

Everything was quiet except for the sound of the wind and the steady beat of her own heart.

Isabella turned slowly to look at him, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Salvatore…”

A smile appeared on her lips before she could stop it.

“You did all this for me?”

He watched her carefully, as if her reaction mattered more than the entire evening.

“Yes.”

She looked around again, taking in every candle, every flower, every detail.

A soft laugh escaped her.

“You put so much thought into everything.”

Emotion warmed her eyes.

“Thank you.”

Salvatore’s expression changed.He stepped closer, his hand still holding hers.

“Never say thank you to me, Isabella.”

His voice was low and calm.

“Whatever I do… I do for you.”

The words wrapped around her heart with dangerous ease. For a second, she could only look at him. Then he gently guided her toward the table.

They sat beneath the moonlight, the candles surrounding them like tiny stars.

Tonight, Salvatore did not sit across from her.

He sat beside her.

Close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him.

Isabella smiled shyly.

“This is the most beautiful dinner I’ve ever seen.”

His gaze lingered on her face.

“You make it beautiful.”

Heat rose to her cheeks.

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence. The moonlight softened the sharp lines of Salvatore’s face, making him look less like a man feared by the world and more like someone capable of tenderness.

That illusion was dangerous.

And Isabella was beginning to fall into it.

She looked up at the sky for a moment, then back at him.

“You know… I don’t remember what our life was like before the accident.”

He listened without interrupting.

“I don’t know how we were together. I don’t know if I loved you the way a wife should.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass in her hand.

“But after the accident…”

She looked directly at him.

“You were the only one there.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

“You stayed with me. You brought me home. You keep taking care of me. You keep trying to make me smile.”

Her voice softened.

“And somehow… that’s giving me happiness again.”

Salvatore remained very still.

He listened to every word.

A slow smile appeared on his lips.

Not warm.

Not innocent.

The smile of a man who understood exactly how powerful trust could become.

“You’re important to me, Isabella,” he said quietly.

The words carried two meanings.

She heard the romantic one.

He heard the dangerous one.

A small, shy smile spread across her face.

“I’m glad.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The wind moved gently through the terrace, and the candles flickered around them.

Isabella leaned back slightly, her shoulder brushing his.

She did not move away.Salvatore looked down at her, and for the first time that evening, the smile on his face became softer than he intended. That frightened him.

——————————

Salvatore watched her laugh softly at something he said, watched her eyes brighten under the candlelight, and realized with growing irritation that he had stopped pretending to enjoy the evening.

He actually was.

That thought unsettled him more than any threat from his enemies.

The night grew quieter.

She leaned against him.Her head rested lightly on his shoulder.

Salvatore went completely still.

For a long moment, he did not move at all.

—————————-

When the dinner ended, he brought her home himself.Back in her room, the exhaustion returned quickly.Salvatore led her inside and closed the door behind them.

“You should change,” he said gently. “You’ve had a long day.”Isabella nodded and disappeared into the dressing room.

A few minutes later, she returned wearing a soft ivory nightdress, simple and comfortable, her hair now loose around her shoulders.She sat on the bed with a tired smile.

Just then, Salvatore entered again carrying a glass of water and her medicine.

She looked up at him.

“I was waiting to take this.”

He handed her the pills and the water.

Their fingers brushed briefly.Isabella swallowed the medicine and set the glass aside.

Salvatore remained standing beside the bed.

“Sleep, Princess,” he said quietly. “You’re tired, you need rest.” and You have a doctor’s appointment in the morning, we’ll go. Your wound has healed a lot, but I think it would be good to show it to the doctor once again.

She looked at him for a long moment.

Then, very softly, she said,

“You’re different.”

His expression did not change.

“Different from what?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a small laugh. “I can’t remember enough to compare you to anyone. But… I feel like you’re becoming important to me.”

The words were innocent.

They hit him like a wound.

A strange silence filled the room.

Salvatore sat down beside her, closer than usual.

For a moment, he simply looked at her.

Then, unexpectedly, a quiet smile appeared on his lips.

Not the cold smile of a man winning a war.

Not the dangerous smile he wore in his study.

Something softer.

Something that frightened him.

He pulled the blanket gently over her.

“One day,” he murmured, almost to himself, “you’re going to make my life very difficult.”

Isabella softly, already half asleep.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Princess.”

Her eyes slowly closed.

Within minutes, her breathing became soft and even. Salvatore remained there, watching her for a long moment.

Then he adjusted the blanket once more, making sure she was warm. His fingers hovered near her face before he forced himself to pull them back.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“What am I doing?” he whispered.

This was not part of the plan.

None of this was.

He stood and walked to the door.

For the first time since Isabella had entered his life, he did not turn toward his study.

———————————————

He went straight to his bedroom.

The moment he entered, he locked the door behind him.

The sharp click echoed through the dark room.

His jacket landed across the armchair. He loosened his tie with a rough pull, then unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt as if the fabric had suddenly become difficult to breathe in.

The city lights shimmered faintly through the windows.

He walked to the table, uncapped a bottle of whiskey, and poured a generous amount into a crystal glass.

The amber liquid trembled slightly.

He noticed.

And hated that he noticed.

Salvatore lifted the glass and swallowed half of it in one burning mouthful. The alcohol slid down his throat, warm and sharp, but it did nothing to quiet the thoughts in his head.

He poured another.

This time he drank slower, leaning one hand against the table, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the window.

She is useful.

The thought came automatically.

A reminder.

A rule.

A fact.

But another memory rose immediately after it.

Pink tulips.

Her smile in the garden.

The way she had looked at him when she said, “Maybe you’re the reward for something I did in a previous birth.”

Then the red silk dress, glowing beneath the candlelight.

His jaw tightened.

Ridiculous.

Dangerous.

Weak.

He finished the second glass and poured a third. Usually alcohol buried inconvenient emotions. Tonight it only made them clearer.

He could still hear her voice.

“Take care, Salvatore.”

“Come home early if you can.”

His eyes closed briefly.

For a moment, he saw her standing in the doorway, looking at him with trust so complete that it almost felt like a wound.

A bitter laugh escaped him.

“She trusts the man who destroyed her life,” he muttered.

He ran a hand through his hair and moved to the bed, sitting heavily on the edge of it.

The room felt too quiet.

Too empty.

Too aware of her presence across the hall.

Salvatore leaned back against the headboard, glass resting loosely in his hand.

He remembered the hospital. The first time he had seen her unconscious beneath the white sheets.

Something had shifted then.

Small enough to ignore.

Persistent enough to survive every attempt to crush it.

He hated that feeling. Hated that it returned every time she smiled at him. Every time she believed him. Every time she looked at him as if he were a good man. He poured the rest of the bottle into the glass. The whiskey burned, but the thoughts remained.

Hours passed.

At some point the glass slipped from his hand onto the mattress beside him.

A bitter smile touched his lips.

“One day, Princess… you are going to be the death of me.”

His vision blurred.

Exhaustion dragged at him.

And just before sleep finally claimed him, a whisper escaped his lips—low, possessive, and frighteningly honest.

“Soon..” he murmured , half asleep.

A slow breath left him.

“Only mine, Princess.”🖤