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Chapter 11: Isabetta’s Heartbreak

Isabetta's POV

I waited until everyone left the dining room before I stood. My father gave me a long sad look before going.

"Isabetta," he said quietly, touching my arm.

"I'm fine, Papa," I said, my voice was barely above a whisper, as I smiled softly.

"Are you?" He said, as he let out a low exhale.

"Yes,” I said.

I know he didn't believe me, but he didn't push. He just squeezed my shoulder and walked away.

I stood alone in the dining room, the table was still set. Half-eaten plates of food, wine glasses with lipstick stains.

I picked up my champagne glass and drained it, then I grabbed my coat and left.

The parking garage was three blocks away, as I drove there.

I parked my car in the far corner and turned off the engine.

"I'm here,” I saw the notification immediately I opened my phone.

I got out of the car and walked toward the concrete pillar where he always waited, as marco stepped out of the shadows.

He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket. His dark hair was messy, and on his hands was a little bouquet of flowers. His eyes were warm, brown, and he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world worth looking at.

God I hated him for that.

"Isabetta," he said, smiling softly at me. “I brought you these,” he said, giving me the flowers.

"Thanks, but you shouldn't be here,” I said, stoping at few feet away.

"Neither should you,” he said, walking towards me.

“How's the painting,” I asked.

“It's good, I'll love it if you'd come to my apartment, and we'll paint something up…like the flowers you were talking about,” his eyes sparked as he talked.

“Marcus…,”

“Look…Isabetta I miss you, what did I do wrong, please,” his eyes searched mine, waiting for an answer.

"I told you we're done,” I replied, taking a deep breath.

"And I told you I don't believe you,” he said, his gaze fixed on me, making me look elsewhere.

I crossed my arms. "Marco…”

"Don't,” he said, as he stepped closer. "Don't do this." He finally stopped smiling.

"Do what?" I looked at him, my voice low.

"Pretend you don't love me,” he said, about taking my hands, but I withdraw.

"I don't,” I muttered, my throat tightening, as my face burned.

"You're lying sweetheart. Then look me in the eye and say it.

I looked at him, his eyes were desperate, pleading.

"I don't love you, Marco,” I finally said, but my voice cracked.

His face softened and he smiled softly. "Isabetta…"

"Stop,” I took a step back. "Just…stop."

"We can make this work," he said. "I don't care about your family, I don't care about their money. I just want you."

"It's not that simple,” I said, shaking my head slightly.

"Yes, it is."

"No!" My voice was sharper now. "It's not."

Marco ran a hand through his hair. "Is this about him?...Leonardo?"

"No,” my voice shook slightly, my eyes looking at anywhere in his face but not his eyes.

"Then what?"

"It's about my father.”

Marco frowned. "Dante? What does he have to do with this?"

“Everything,” my voice was shaky, my eyes watery.

"He would destroy you," I said quietly.

"Let him try,” Marcus jaw tightened, as he heaved a sigh.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

He stared at me, as understanding dawned in his eyes.

"You're protecting me," he said, his voice low, but I didn't answer.

Marco stepped closer, as he reached for my face. His hand cupped my cheek.

I should've pulled away, but I didn't. His thumb brushed my skin, gently, the familiar touch making me calm.

"I don't need you to protect me," he said.

"Yes, you do,” I replied.

"Isabetta…"

"My father has connections, Marco. Powerful people. If he found out about you, about us, he would ruin you. Your job, your reputation…everything."

"I don't care."

"I do,” I said, as tears burned my eyes. I pulled back, Marco's hand dropped to his side.

"So that's it?" he said. "You're just giving up?" His voice was low, as he turned his head to the side.

"I'm keeping you safe,” I said, touching his cheek.

"I don't want safe. I want you,” he said, turning to look at me. His eyes searching for a glimpse of hope.

"I'm sorry,” I said, closing my eyes, as I turned and walked away without looking at him.

"Isabetta!" he called after me, but I didn't stop.

I got into my car and locked the doors. I finally looked at Marco, who stood in the middle of the parking garage, watching me. His hands were clenched into fists, his face was raw with pain.

I heaved a sigh, and started the engine, as I drove away.

I made it two blocks before I had to pull over.

The sobs came hard and violent. I pressed my hands over my mouth to muffle the sound.

“What have I done…what should I do,” I said, hitting the steering wheel.

My mascara streaked down my face, but I didn't care. I looked at the flowers he gave me. I smiled softly seeing that he doesn't always forget I love white flowers.

I loved him, God, I loved him so much it hurt. But loving him meant destroying him, And I couldn't do that.

I pulled out my phone with shaking hands, as I typed a message.

"What's our next plan, Just tell me when,” I stared at the words for a long time, before hitting send.