Mine Through Lies

Chapter-9 (The Smile He Needed)

That evening, Isabella sat in front of the mirror in her room, slowly combing her hair. The silver brush moved through the dark strands, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Mrs. Moretti.

The old woman’s voice still echoed in her head.

“Hello, Mrs. Moretti.”

And the moment she had heard those words, Salvatore’s hand had tightened around her waist.

Not painfully. But enough for her to notice. Enough to make her wonder.

Was everything really alright?

Or was there something he wasn’t telling me?

She stared at her reflection, lost in thought, the brush stopping in midair. The room was silent. Then the door opened behind her.

No knock.

No warning.

Salvatore entered as if the room belonged to him.

And perhaps it did.

His dark eyes immediately finding her reflection in the mirror. The still brush. The distant expression. The woman whose thoughts were clearly somewhere far away from him. He walked toward her slowly. So quietly that even his footsteps made no sound. Isabella didn’t hear him until his hand slipped gently into her hair.

Calm.

Warm.

Dangerously tender.

“What happened, little bird?”

She flinched hard, her breath catching in her throat.

Her eyes flew to his reflection.

“Salvatore…”

A nervous laugh escaped her.

“You scared me.”

A faint smile touched his lips. His fingers stayed in her hair, slowly moving through the soft strands.

“You scared me first,” he murmured.

He leaned closer.

“Sitting here like that… looking as if you’re thinking about something you shouldn’t.”

Isabella looked away.

“Nothing. I was just thinking.”

The smile faded. Slowly, his hand slid from her hair. His fingers brushed behind her ear, traced the side of her neck, and then settled at the front of her throat.

Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make her aware of his hand.

Her breath caught.

With his other hand, he gently tilted her chin upward until her face lifted toward the ceiling.

He stood impossibly close now.

Close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. Close enough that the scent of smoke and expensive cologne surrounded her completely.

His grey eyes locked onto hers.

“Don’t hide things from me, Isabella.”

His thumb rested lightly against the hollow of her throat.

“You have no idea what one mistake can lead to.”

The words settled between them like a quiet warning.

He stopped there.

Didn’t explain.

Didn’t soften it.

For the first time since leaving the hospital, something cold moved through her chest.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Something that reminded her that the man standing in front of her was capable of things she could not imagine.

She searched his face.

“Why are you acting like this?” she whispered. “Ever since we came home from the hospital… sometimes you feel different.”

For a moment, he simply looked at her.

Then he stepped back.

His eyes never leaving hers.

Only when he was a few steps away did he run his tongue briefly against the inside of his cheek, a small habit she had started noticing whenever he was forcing himself back under control.

“You’re overthinking,” he said calmly. “I’m not acting differently.”

Isabella turned slightly in the chair and looked at him over her shoulder.

Their eyes met.

She didn’t argue.

But she didn’t fully believe him either.

And Salvatore saw it.

The first crack.

The first moment she had begun to notice things.

The silence stretched.

Then he exhaled softly and said,

“I brought something for you.”

The change of topic was smooth.

Too smooth.

Isabella narrowed her eyes slightly.

“What did you bring me?”

A slow smile appeared on his lips.

“Come and see.”

He extended his hand.

After a brief hesitation, she placed her hand in his.

His fingers closed around hers immediately.

Possessive.

As if letting go was never part of the plan. He led her out of the room and down the staircase. When they reached the main hall, he stopped beside the large portrait hanging near the stairs.

The portrait Isabella loved the most. The one that made her feel as if a forgotten memory was trying to reach her.

Beneath it, on the carpet, sat a woven basket covered with a cream blanket.

Something beneath it moved.

A tiny movement.

A soft breath.

Isabella looked at him.

“What is that?”

His smile deepened slightly.

“Go check, princess.”

He released her hand.

She walked toward the basket slowly, curiosity replacing the tension in her chest. Crouching down, she lifted the edge of the blanket. Two bright blue eyes blinked up at her. A tiny white Siberian Husky puppy stretched sleepily and let out the smallest sound. For a second, Isabella went completely still.

Then a delighted gasp escaped her.

“Oh my God!”

She laughed and immediately reached for the puppy, lifting it carefully into her arms.

Her entire face lit up.

Not polite happiness.

Pure, unguarded joy.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, holding it against her chest. The puppy licked her chin, making her laugh again.

Salvatore watched from a few steps away. And for a moment, he forgot everything else.

The lies.

The danger.

The name that had almost broken through.

Because she looked genuinely happy.

Isabella stayed crouched on the floor, the puppy curled against her.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“You got this for me?”

He nodded once.

“That’s all?”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Was I supposed to bring two?”

She laughed again, and the sound hit him harder than it should have.

Then, unexpectedly, he walked toward her and lowered himself onto one knee in front of her.

At her level.

For the first time. And for him, that was no small thing. Salvatore Bellamonte did not kneel for anyone. Certainly not for a woman. Yet there he was, on one knee before her, close enough to see every emotion on her face.

Isabella noticed it too.

Something about the gesture made her heart stumble.

He reached out and gently scratched the puppy behind its ears.

“Looks like he’s already chosen you.”

“He likes me,” she said with a soft laugh.

His eyes lifted from the puppy to her face.

“yes,” he murmured quietly.

And the distance that had existed between them since the hospital suddenly felt much smaller.

Isabella carefully placed the puppy back into the basket.

Isabella carefully placed the puppy back into the basket. When she turned back, Salvatore was still kneeling beside her.

Close.

Very close.

For a moment, she simply looked at him. Then, without thinking, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The hug was sudden.

Real.

Her body pressed close to his. Her face rested against his shoulder. And because they were both still kneeling on the floor, there was no distance left between them.

Salvatore froze.

Completely.

No one had ever held him like that.

Not without wanting something.

Not without fear.

Not without calculation.

For a heartbeat, his hands remained suspended at his sides.Then slowly, almost uncertainly, he pulled her closer.One arm wrapped around her waist.The other slid into her hair. He lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss against the top of it.

“You liked it that much, huh?”

Isabella only smiled against his shoulder.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

And as he held her, a darker thought moved through his mind.

Good.

Keep smiling.

Keep thinking about this.

Forget the woman from the hospital.

That was the real reason for the puppy.

Not kindness.

Not romance.

A distraction.

A beautiful distraction.

If this moment had not happened, if her attention had remained on the name Moretti, then other truths might have started finding their way to the surface.

This was necessary.

The right distraction at the right time.

And the terrifying part was that he was no longer sure whether he had done it only to protect the lie… or also to protect the way she looked at him.

—————

Later that night

The study was dim, lit only by the low fire in the fireplace and the amber glow of a desk lamp.

Smoke curled through the air.

Salvatore sat behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette between the fingers of the other.

He took a drag.

Exhaled slowly.

Then lifted the glass and took a sip.

Smoke.

Whiskey.

Silence.

Again.

The ritual steadied him.

At least, it usually did.

Tonight, it didn’t.

The door opened without a knock.

A man entered.

Tall.

Dark-haired.

Wearing a smile that carried no warmth.

“Well,” he said casually, closing the door behind him. “You’re getting harder to find.”

Salvatore looked up from the file.

His expression didn’t change.

“You came all the way here. Something happened.”

The man walked closer and sat down without waiting for permission.

“A lot has happened.”

He glanced around the study.

“You’re just too busy playing husband to notice.”

Salvatore took another drag from the cigarette.

“Say what you came to say.”

The smile disappeared from the man’s face.

“Why is she still alive?”

Silence.

“Why bring her into this house and give her your name?”

Salvatore leaned back slowly.

“There are reasons.”

The man laughed under his breath.

“Whatever those reasons are, they’re going to become the biggest mistake of your life.”

His eyes swept across the room.

“You left the Bellamonte estate. You left the heart of your empire.”

A pause.

“And now you’re living in this mansion because of one woman.”

Salvatore’s jaw tightened slightly.

The man continued.

“You built fake portraits. Created a fake history. You’re protecting her. Taking care of her.”

He shook his head.

“And since when does Salvatore Bellamonte keep a dog in his house?”

A dangerous smile touched Salvatore’s lips.

“Her name is Isabella.”

His voice turned quiet.

“Use it.”

The man studied him carefully.

“Isabella…”

He paused.

“Or should I say—”

He stopped the moment he saw the look in Salvatore’s eyes.

A long silence followed.

Then the man leaned forward.

“You’re forgetting your own rules.”

Salvatore said nothing.

“You were the one who said women are either a weakness… or a reason for death.”

His eyes darkened.

“So where did those rules go, huh?”

No answer.

“You left your empire for her. You’re protecting her. Lying for her.”

The man stared at him.

“I never thought I’d see the day Salvatore Bellamonte started growing a heart.”

Salvatore took a slow drag from the cigarette.

Smoke drifted between them.

Then he spoke.

“She is useful.”

The words were cold.

Deliberately cold.

Like he was forcing them to be.

“When I’m done with her,” he continued softly, “I’ll kill her with my own hands.”

His eyes lifted to meet the other man’s.

“Some people are easier to destroy once they’ve started believing they’re safe.”

The room fell silent.

Even the fire seemed quieter.

The man watched him for a long moment.

“Do whatever you want,” he said finally. “But finish it soon.”

Salvatore’s gaze sharpened.

“You know something.”

The man nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

He leaned forward.

“The night you killed your rival… your men went back to dispose of the bodies.”

Salvatore’s eyes never left his face.

“They found all of his men dead.”

A pause.

“But there wasn’t only one body missing.”

For the first time that night, Salvatore’s expression changed.

The man smiled without humor.

“Your rival’s body was gone.”

Silence.

Then, very softly:

“He was never there.”

The whiskey glass stopped in Salvatore’s hand.

And for the first time in many years, something dangerous flickered behind his eyes.

Not anger.

Not guilt.

Fear.