(Isabella’s POV)
He pulled back from our kiss, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing ragged. The blueprints of our war were scattered around us on the mahogany desk, a stark reminder of the world outside this room. But in here, there were no ghosts. There was only us.
“You are a very beautiful woman, Isabella,” he whispered, his voice a raw, vulnerable thing I had rarely heard. “I wish I met you at a different time, under better circumstances.”
“It’s fine, Alessandro,” I said, my hand coming up to cup his jaw, the slight rasp of his stubble a delicious friction against my palm. “At least we are together in this.”
His answering smile was breathtaking, revealing the wonderful dimples I had grown to love so much. He ran his hand down my arm to my thigh, his touch leaving a trai
