Unspoken truths
1165 Words
The Costa estate felt different at night.
Isa had spent the last few hours wandering its halls, familiarizing herself with the fortress Adrian called home. It was a calculated move—if she was going to be trapped here, she needed to understand her surroundings. But the deeper she walked into the house, the more suffocating it became.
It wasn’t just the cold luxury of the place—the marble floors, the dim lighting, the towering ceilings. It was the silence.
Isa had never liked silence.
She had grown up in a house filled with noise—her father’s men speaking in hushed tones, her mother playing the piano late into the night, the occasional shouting match between her parents that she tried to ignore. Silence, to her, always meant something was wrong.
So sitting at the long mahogany dining table, surrounded by an oppressive quiet, made her skin itch.
The food in front of her went untouched. Across the table, Adrian cut into his steak with precise, unhurried movements, acting as if the entire world outside wasn’t waiting to tear them apart. His dark eyes remained focused on his plate, his expression unreadable.
Isa, on the other hand, could barely stomach the thought of eating.
She had too many questions swirling in her mind. Too much uncertainty pressing down on her.
“You should eat.”
Adrian’s deep voice cut through the quiet.
Isa glanced up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not hungry.”
“You still need to eat.”
She arched a brow. “Is this part of the whole ‘protecting me’ thing? Making sure I don’t starve?”
Adrian leaned back in his chair, his expression as calm as ever. “No. That’s just common sense.”
Isa scoffed, pushing her plate away. “I think I’d rather starve.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his features, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he reached for his glass of wine, taking a slow sip.
The silence stretched again.
It made Isa restless.
She exhaled, forcing herself to speak. “Dante said Rinaldi’s men tried getting onto the property yesterday.”
Adrian didn’t look up. “They did.”
“And you don’t think that’s a big deal?”
He set his knife down, finally meeting her eyes. “I think it means they’re desperate. And desperate men make mistakes.”
Isa frowned. “Unless they’re smart.”
His gaze sharpened. “You’re worried.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “Obviously.”
“You don’t have to be.”
She scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve been playing this game for years.”
His expression didn’t change. “And you haven’t?”
She stiffened.
He wasn’t wrong. She might not have been directly involved in the mafia world, but she had grown up in it. She knew the rules, the dangers, the betrayals that came when you trusted the wrong person.
Adrian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Your father kept you away from this life. But you understand it more than you admit.”
Isa swallowed, looking away. She hated that he could read her so easily.
“I understand enough to know I don’t belong here,” she muttered.
For the first time, Adrian’s expression shifted—just a flicker of something beneath the mask he always wore.
“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re leaving.”
Her eyes snapped back to his.
A challenge. A promise.
And something else—something she wasn’t ready to name.
The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with a tension that neither of them seemed willing to break. Isa clenched her fists under the table, forcing herself to look away.
She had spent years convincing herself that she wanted nothing to do with men like him.
So why did she feel like Adrian Costa might be the only person who truly saw her?
The Balcony
Later that night, Isa found herself standing on the balcony of her room, the city lights glowing in the distance. The cool night air brushed against her skin, but she barely noticed.
Her mind was spinning.
She didn’t know what was worse—the danger outside these walls or the tension inside them.
A movement behind her made her tense.
“You should be sleeping.”
She didn’t turn around. “So should you.”
Adrian stepped onto the balcony, coming to stand beside her. He leaned against the railing, gazing out at the city.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Isa exhaled. “I hate this.”
Adrian glanced at her. “Hate what?”
“Being trapped.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Feeling like I have no control over my own life.”
His gaze darkened slightly. “Control is an illusion.”
She turned to face him. “Is it?”
He smirked. “You tell me, princess. Have you ever really had control?”
Isa frowned, his words settling uncomfortably in her chest.
She had spent her whole life trying to carve out something of her own—going to law school, staying out of her father’s business, pretending she wasn’t part of a world ruled by violence. But in the end, none of it had mattered. She was still here. Still caught in the same web she had tried so hard to escape.
And Adrian Costa saw right through her.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t like you.”
Adrian chuckled. “That’s a lie.”
She shot him a glare. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t like the situation. But me?” He tilted his head. “You haven’t made up your mind yet.”
Isa hated how smug he sounded.
More than that, she hated that he might be right.
“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, turning back toward the city.
Adrian didn’t respond right away. When he finally did, his voice was quieter than before. “You’re not what I expected.”
Isa glanced at him, surprised. “What does that mean?”
He studied her, his gaze unreadable. “I thought you’d be fragile.”
She scoffed. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“You haven’t.”
Her breath caught.
Something about the way he said it—low, steady, completely unguarded—made her heart do something strange in her chest.
She looked away quickly, gripping the railing. “You’re impossible.”
Adrian smirked. “And you’re stubborn.”
A silence fell between them again, but this time, it wasn’t suffocating.
It was charged.
Isa’s fingers tightened around the metal railing. She hated this. Hated that he got under her skin so easily. Hated that, despite everything, she felt safer here than she ever had anywhere else.
She hated that Adrian Costa made her feel anything at all.
Because if she wasn’t careful…
She might start wanting things she could never have.
- Writer
