IZABELLA
I could barely nod.
My lips parted, but no sound came out. I was too focused on the look in his eyes, the way they flickered down to my mouth again, then lower.
“I suppose… we can proceed,” I breathed, not fully trusting my voice.
Ignazio didn’t move right away. He just watched me for a second, like he was giving me one last chance to reconsider. When I didn’t, he slowly set his suit jacket over the back of the chair beside the door. Then, with quiet purpose, he began undoing the buttons of his white dress shirt.
One by one.
My eyes followed every movement of his fingers, watching as pale skin and hard muscle peeked through. The shirt slipped off his shoulders and he folded it neatly before placing it beside the jacket. His body was sculpted—lean, defined, with every line l
