IZABELLA
My feet were tucked beneath me as I watched myself and Ignazio descend the steps of his private jet on the television.
I was in the den—a cozy space in Ignazio’s house that I now resided in whenever I wasn’t in my room. The space was like an entertainment center, with a large mahogany shelf of books covering one wall, a massive couch in the center, and an 80-inch smart TV on the opposite wall. Everything about the room was organized to perfection—exactly like Ignazio—and the first time I’d stumbled into it, I’d been too nervous to even dare move a single thing out of place.
Now, I was comfortable. I read here, sometimes napped even, and, as of now, watched myself on the TV with a grimace on my face.
The whole scene was difficult to watch for whatever reason. I self-conscio
