IZABELLA
Ignazio liked me.
But something told me that ‘like’... was a delicate way of putting it.
He liked... more than liked me.
After our encounter last night, it was all I'd been able to think about.
It wasn’t the first time we’d been close. But it was the first time I paid attention to his reaction to our proximity.
Real attention.
A heavy knock sounded at the door.
My eyes snapped toward it, and I felt my heart pound.
Slowly I got to my feet and slipped toward it. Once I opened it, Ignazio stood in the hall, his gaze lowered.
He'd removed his jacket but otherwise wore his gray tie, pants, and white dress shirt. When his eyes came up to me, I realized they were clouded with something dark and terrifying.
My pulse leapt.
On mere instinct, my hand shook on the door. I took a
