Chapter 24
1210 Words
ISABELLA
I didn’t expect to like Bianca.
I expected her to be spoiled, dramatic, maybe a little bratty — the kind of girl who ran away with a boy her family hated just to prove a point. And yes, she was dramatic and stubborn. But she was also warm, bright, and disarmingly genuine.
And she adored her brother, which made the entire situation even more complicated.
The rooftop bar glowed under strings of warm lights, the ocean breeze brushing against my skin as I sipped the last of my margarita. The tacos dorados Bianca ordered were crispy, golden, and addictive — rolled tortillas stuffed with chicken and cheese, fried to perfection, and served with a creamy salsa that made me want to lick the plate.
Bianca had insisted I try them. Actually, she had insisted on a lot of things.
Including that I sit beside her or I tell her about my “new relationship" with her brother.
She even insisted that I stay for “just one more drink.”
And somehow, I found myself doing exactly what she wanted.
Across from us, Mario sat stiffly, like he was afraid to breathe too loudly. He kept glancing at Adrian as if expecting to be thrown off the rooftop at any moment.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure he was wrong.
Adrian sat beside me, arm draped around my shoulders — not casually, not comfortably, but like he was trying to anchor me in place. His fingers rested against my upper arm, warm and firm, and every few seconds he scanned the perimeter with the intensity of a man expecting an ambush.
He was tense, irritated and absolutely miserable.
And Bianca was thriving.
“So,” she said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin, “how long have you two been together?” She gave me a look then glanced at her brother then back to me. "Are you engaged—"
I choked on my drink.
Mario choked on air.
Adrian choked on his own existence.
“We’re—” I started.
Bianca gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, is it a secret engagement?”
“No,” Adrian said sharply.
“Yes,” Bianca said at the exact same time.
I blinked. “Bianca—”
She grabbed my hand, eyes sparkling. “You’re wearing a ring. Why didn't I see that earlier?” She waved her hand to dismiss her own thought.
I looked down.
Oh.
Right.
The ring Adrian gave me during that dinner with my family.
The one I’d forgotten I was still wearing.
“It’s—” I tried again. Bianca must have known at least a little bit about how their kind of family arrange marriages.
“It’s gorgeous,” Bianca said, cutting me off. “And you’re gorgeous. And Adrian is… well, he’s Adrian. So obviously you’re engaged.”
I glanced at Adrian.
He looked like he wanted to throw himself off the rooftop.
Bianca beamed. “We should celebrate!”
Mario whispered, “Bianca, maybe we shouldn’t—”
She waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is huge. Luca should be here. And Mamma. Then we’d be a complete family.”
Adrian groaned under his breath.
I bit back a smile.
Bianca continued, oblivious. “Imagine it — all of us together. Me, you, Adrian, Luca, Mamma—”
“And Mario’s not family,” Adrian muttered.
The table went silent.
Bianca slowly turned her head toward him.
I slowly turned my head toward him.
Mario looked like he was about to faint.
“Adrian,” I said sweetly, “that was rude.”
Bianca crossed her arms. “Very rude.”
Adrian blinked. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did,” Bianca snapped.
I nodded. “You absolutely did.”
Mario whispered, “It’s okay, I understand—”
“No,” Bianca said, glaring at her brother. “It’s not okay.”
Adrian rubbed his temples like he was developing a migraine. “I’m surrounded.”
“Yes,” Bianca said proudly. “By women who are right.”
I took another sip of my margarita, enjoying the rare sight of Adrian Salvatore being verbally outnumbered.
Bianca leaned closer to me. “You know, I always wondered what kind of woman would finally shut him up.”
“Bianca,” Adrian warned.
She ignored him. “I thought she’d have to be scary. Or violent. Or both.”
I laughed. “I’m not violent.”
“Yet,” Bianca said cheerfully.
Mario whimpered.
Adrian sighed like he regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.
We finished the margaritas and the tacos dorados, and Bianca was still talking — about Mario, about running away, about how she’d always wanted to see Mexico, about how Adrian was overprotective,and how excited their Mamma would be about the wedding.
I liked her.
She was warm and chaotic and honest in a way that made me feel… comfortable. Like I’d known her longer than twenty minutes.
When the server cleared our plates, I leaned toward Bianca.
“You know,” I said, “you and Mario should come back to the villa with us.”
Bianca’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really,” I said. “It’s safer. And we can keep talking there.”
Mario looked relieved. “That sounds… nice.”
Adrian opened his mouth to protest. I remember him saying we're leaving after this. Perhaps flying back to New York immediately.
I batted my eyelashes.
He froze.
Completely froze.
Then he shut his mouth.
Bianca gasped. “Oh my God, you have him trained.”
“I do not,” Adrian snapped.
I smiled sweetly. “Be nice.”
He glared at me.
I raised a brow.
He caved instantly.
Bianca clapped. “This is amazing. I love her.”
Adrian groaned. “Of course you do.”
Bianca grabbed my hand again. “Come on, let’s go. I want to see the villa. And we can talk more about the engagement.”
“Bianca—” Adrian started.
“Shh,” Bianca said, patting his arm. “Adults are talking.”
I laughed.
Adrian looked at me like I was personally responsible for his suffering.
Maybe I was.
We stood, and Adrian immediately signaled his men. They moved into formation around us, scanning the rooftop, the stairwell, the exits. His arm slid around my waist — firm, protective, warm.
I didn’t pull away.
Bianca looped her arm through mine. “This is going to be so much fun.”
Mario followed nervously. “I hope so.”
Adrian muttered, “I doubt it.”
Bianca and I both turned and glared at him.
He sighed. “Fine. It’ll be fun.”
Bianca grinned. “See? He’s learning.”
I smiled up at him. “Good boy.”
He stared at me like he wasn’t sure whether to kiss me or throw me over his shoulder and lock me in the car.
Maybe both.
We walked toward the elevator — me and Bianca chatting like old friends, Mario trailing behind us, and Adrian suffering in silence.
His headache had definitely gone from bad to worse.
And I wasn’t sorry.
Not even a little.
- Writer
