ADRIAN
By the time Isabella and I stepped out of the car, Tobias was already waiting by the elevator, pretending he hadn’t just given us the privacy of a lifetime. Isabella’s cheeks were still flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and I had to force myself to focus on the day ahead instead of dragging her back into the car.
We took the private elevator up to the executive floor.
Enzo was waiting.
He stood near the windows of my office, hands in his pockets, posture stiff. He wasn’t pacing, wasn’t shouting, wasn’t throwing accusations — which meant he was upset. Enzo only yelled when he didn’t care. Silence was his version of restraint.
He turned when we entered.
His eyes flicked to Isabella first, then to me, then back to her. There was a tightness around his jaw, a tension in his sho
