ISABELLA
The words sat heavy on my tongue, refusing to leave. Should I tell him ?
Christian was still standing close, his fingers brushing against my wrist, his warmth almost suffocating. His face was carved with barely restrained fury, his body taut like a predator ready to strike. Despite his inner rage, his touch on me was gentle as he lightly brushed his fingers over my bruised palm.
He had been furious when he found out about the photograph.
What would he do when he found out that this wasn’t the first warning?
I stepped back, breaking the contact between us. My hands were ice-cold, trembling slightly, but I clenched them into fists.
Tell him, a voice inside me whispered. Just tell him.
I took a shaky breath. “There’s something else.”
Christian’s eyes sharpened. “What?”
I
