Chapter 119
LEVI
As I sat outside Isabella’s home, the silence pressed in on me, heavy and oppressive, a physical weight against my ribs. It struck me then, against all logic, against everything I believed about myself, that I was starting to have… feelings for this woman. Me. The man who kept relationships neatly compartmentalized—a convenient formality. A necessity. A tool.
I’d postponed my trip to Italy—twice now—just to be here this morning, to make sure she met my father today and I’d be the one to take her there. I hadn’t gotten this far gone in years. Whatever this was, whatever pull she seemed to have over me, it made no damn sense. There were no critical life-or-death benefits to this marriage. There was the transfer of the company, sure, the legacy, the security… but not enough to warrant this kind of urgency. I could cut myself off from it all if I chose to. I could start something from scratch. Be okay the way things were.
My father hadn’t demanded it with a gun to my head. Yes, it would make the old man happy, but now that I think about it, that shouldn’t be enough of a reason to draw up a marriage contract and tie myself down to a future I hadn’t intended for myself. The inheritance… the legacy… all of it seemed a convenient excuse more than a true motivation.
So who was I really trying to convince here? What was it that felt so urgent, so irrational, except the alarming suspicion that I was losing my mind and it hadn’t happened all at once — it had been slipping away from me, piece by piece, from the first moment I met her — something deep within me was shifting, making me do things I hadn’t done in years… things I hadn’t allowed myself to do.
I’d tried yesterday. God, I’d tried. I kept myself distant, icy, unreachable — cold in the hope that whatever spark had struck me would fade back into oblivion. Especially after I crossed a boundary I hadn’t meant to, after I’d followed her like a shadow to the clinic, after I’d let myself care just a little, letting a sliver of warmth seep through the wall I’d kept up for years. Things were starting to shift between us, growing more intimate, more dangerous for me, and I thought freezing her out would be enough to bring me back to my senses.
But it hadn’t. She’d been on my mind all night. All day. To feel close to her, I’d called in favors from the New York Police Department and the FBI, making sure the men who brutalized her brother were taken into custody. It seemed, at first, a simple attack — a random assault — but the investigations were turning up something more, something darker. Whatever it was, I insisted on staying in the loop. Whatever came to light, I wanted to be the first to know. To control it. To protect not just her, but her siblings — the people closest to her.
So much for thinking I’d come to my senses. Here I was now, sitting in my car, pulse elevated, knuckles white against the leather steering wheel, battling myself and losing. Eager — yes, eager — to see her. To breathe in her presence. To feel her close, even when I insisted I shouldn’t. Whatever this feeling was, it seemed I was powerless against it.
Not even the knowledge that her two little shadow-like, annoying-ass siblings might appear alongside her, or the incongruity of my sleek black Ferrari sitting on a block filled with worn houses, could dampen it. My phone buzzed — Mrs. Sebastian, my head of PR. I sighed and cut the call without a second thought. Whatever crisis she believed was urgent could wait. There were more pressing matters.
Isabella.
Damn. I shook my head, letting out a short, bitter laugh at my own weakness, as I remembered I was the one who’d arranged the call this morning in the first place.
“What’s taking her so long?” I whispered under my breath, agitation creeping into me. Oh God. This woman drives me insane.
Then suddenly fear tightened its grip on me. What if she’d decided to back out? What if I’d crossed a line I hadn’t meant to, and now she was choosing something — someone — else instead of me?
I turned toward the driver. “Go check—” I began, but then I saw her emerge from the doorway, a small silhouette against the worn brick. She walked forward and rapped once on the window. I pressed a button; it glided downward smoothly.
She slid into the passenger seat without a word, eyebrows lifting in pure disbelief when she noticed me. Did she honestly think I’d let someone else bring her today? I smirked, unable to help myself from feeling a rush of happiness at the surprise on her face. Some things I preferred to control myself. Especially her.
Now we were back to the tug of war that defined us — fighting our feelings, putting up walls we hoped would keep us distant, yet those defenses were cracking with each passing moment, threatening to collapse altogether soon enough. But whose will break first?
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