Chapter 101

ISABELLA

Sunlight spilled between tall glass buildings, bouncing off car hoods and warming the sidewalks still slick from a brief morning drizzle. Steam curled from a manhole on the corner, rising like a ghost into the air. The city was a living, breathing thing—loud, fast, demanding. But inside my car, I was still. I was seconds from turning the ignition when I realized… I didn’t have to rush. I could keep Levi waiting.
Let him stew a little.
I wanted to look good today. No, not good. I wanted to look like a woman who drove a Ferrari and never asked for permission. A woman who chose herself.
My first stop was the salon.
I was done being blonde.
Back to brown.
Back to me.
They gave me the full works—rich chocolate color to frame my face, nails lacquered in a nude gloss, a quick peel that made my skin glow like it had swallowed light. I wanted to step out of that spa looking like sin and salvation rolled into one sleek silhouette.
The stylist didn’t speak much as she worked—probably sensing I wasn’t in the mood. The salon buzzed with gossip and blow dryers, a far cry from the quiet, lavender-scented boutique I used to visit in Italy. This was louder, brasher… but I liked it. It made me feel like I was part of something.
Still, I caught her watching me in the mirror—just a flicker. Maybe it was the way I sat: back straight, shoulders back, like a soldier dressing for battle. Or maybe she sensed what I wasn’t saying.
By the time they finished, I looked like a version of myself I hadn’t seen in years.
Polished.
Poised.
Dangerous.
I didn’t stop there. With the last of the money—well, part of it—I made my way to a boutique spa and bought a gown I couldn’t afford but couldn’t resist. It was a rich, silky nude with undertones of green that shimmered in the light. A corset bodice hugged my curves, lifted my breasts, and carved my waist like art. I ran my fingers through my freshly curled hair, then paused, staring at my reflection.
A stranger. A goddess. Me.
I snuck out of my own apartment like a thief, careful not to be seen. Yes—my apartment, the one I paid rent for every damn month. But I couldn’t bear another interrogation from Caroline. Where are you going?? Why that dress? They could wait.
Matt was in the bathroom. Caroline had gone out for snacks. It was now or never.
I slipped into my Ferrari and started the engine, heart pounding. My hair was swept into an elegant French twist, the dress clung like sin, and for once, I didn’t feel like apologizing for any of it. I felt like someone—someone rich, desired, untouchable. A Kardashian on a good day, maybe.
It was finally warm enough to ditch a coat. Thank God. This gown deserved to be seen.
Levi had texted an address. Queens. I followed the GPS and found the place without issue. But the moment I parked, confusion sank in. It was an office building—wide, bland, corporate. Rows of windows, too many identical doors. No sign of a lounge, no restaurant or rooftop view. Just cold, clean business.
I stared at the building, then down at my dress. Stilettos. Hair. Lipstick. Everything about me screamed “evening.” And this? This looked like a nine-to-five boardroom.
Shit. Should’ve asked more questions.
I reached for my phone—only to realize I hadn’t saved his number. Of course. Typical me.
With a sharp sigh, I slid back into the car to wait. That’s when I saw him.
Levi.
Reflected in the side mirror, standing just outside the building, a tailored grey suit clinging to his broad frame like it had been made for him alone. Hair slicked back, expression unreadable. He looked like money. Like power. Like the kind of man you’d only find on the cover of GQ. The years had been good on him. Fuck!
I could barely breathe. I hope I am able to survive this arrangement.
He was staring directly at me, one hand lifting in a half-hearted wave—as if he thought I might drive off.
He always looked so damn angry.
I stepped out of the car slowly. He didn’t move, just watched. His eyes roamed over me like a silent verdict, lingering on the swell of my hips, the slit in the dress, the curve of my breasts pushed up by the corset. I felt naked under that stare.
He looked… impressed. And I hated that it made something flutter in my stomach.
I remembered the first time he saw me—at Ford’s. I’d been exhausted, barely holding it together, and still, his eyes hadn’t left me. Like I was some puzzle he couldn’t solve. Like I was already his.
And now?
Now he was walking toward me, slow and deliberate, like I was gravity.
I shifted on my heels, suddenly self-conscious. Should I have worn something else?
He stopped in front of me, close but not touching, and said nothing. Just stared. Then finally—
“Come with me. Now.”
His voice was as smooth and flat as ever, but I followed. What choice did I have?
Inside the elevator, he didn’t look at me. Not even once.
Then, out of nowhere, he said, “Why do you look so beautiful today? Do you intend to seduce me, Miss Isabella?”
My mouth dropped open. What the hell?
“I will not justify that question with an answer,” I said coolly, fighting the tremor in my chest. “And you should know—the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.
“Of course it doesn’t. But everything about you should. After all, aren’t we getting married next weekend?”
God. The arrogance.