Chapter 136
ISABELLA
Because Mr. Ferrari had given me an ultimatum I couldn’t ignore—not if I wanted to protect the one thing that mattered more to me than anything else in this world: my family. The second he mentioned them, the second he held that threat over my head like a guillotine, I knew. I would burn every bridge, ruin every good thing in my life, just to keep them safe.
Even if it meant being separated from Levi. Again.
Panic rose in my chest—hot, sharp, relentless—but I forced it down. I clung to the image of Levi, stranded, naked, pacing the edge of the woods, seething with confusion and fury.
God, I hoped he had a spare change of clothes stashed in that sleek, arrogant car of his.
Because if he didn’t... oh, hell. I might’ve pushed him too far.
He was going to come for me. That much was inevitable.
And the worst part?
I wanted him to.
I bit my lip, groaning into the pillow. “Shit.”
What the hell had I done? It was childish. Reckless. “You’re twenty-five, Isabella,” I whispered to myself. “Not a teenager. Not some silly intern.”
Still, he’d ruined me last night. Mind, body, soul—devoured every inch of me until I didn’t know what planet I was on. Earth? Mars? Jupiter? Or had I been thrown into the sun, burning from the inside out?
I’d never been fucked like that in my life—not even by him, not before. It wasn’t just sex. It was surrender. Worship. War.
And instead of thanking him for giving me the best night of my life, I’d walked away with his clothes like a lunatic.
Because I had to.
Because if I didn’t play my part, everything I’d built, everything I’d survived, everything I loved… would be taken from me.
And Levi?
He’d made it clear from the very beginning: when his father came to destroy, no one—not even Levi himself—could protect me.
I was alone.
I always had been.
Still, I couldn’t stop imagining the look on his face—rage like a thunderstorm, jaw clenched to hell, eyes wild, scanning the trees for any trace of me. The sheer indignation of being left bare-assed with nothing but the memory of how hard he’d fucked me into the ground.
I started laughing again, tears stinging the corners of my eyes, somewhere between horror and hysteria.
“Oh my God,” I whispered into the pillow. “I really did it.”
But I also knew one thing with certainty:
He was coming.
Not just with anger.
With vengeance.
And when Levi Ferrari retaliated, he didn’t hold back.
But maybe… I wanted his wrath. If it came with a night like the last, he could punish me over and over again. “He can punish me,” I whispered into the air, “as long as it feels like that.”
The adrenaline finally wore off around noon. I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a train. My body ached. My chest was tight. And my head… it was still trapped in the whirlwind of last night.
The sex. His touch. His voice—rough, desperate, unrelenting—as he tried to dig the truth out of my lips. And me—dodging, deflecting, holding back everything he wanted to hear. Everything I wanted to say.
Whatever we had before—whatever attraction, whatever forbidden pull—felt childish now. Naïve. Because last night was something else. Something raw and terrifying and completely consuming. The feelings I had for Levi weren’t playing fair anymore. They weren’t staying where I’d hidden them. They were overtaking me.
Feeling slightly less sore, I slipped out of bed. I tied my hair into a messy bun and pulled on a baggy sweatshirt and joggers. My body felt heavy, like it was carrying too many secrets. My eyes were gritty from sleep I didn’t remember getting. I quickly made my bed—it was a mess.
The room had two beds. Caroline’s side was pristine: books neatly stacked, a lamp perched beside a mug of highlighters, the bedsheet a calm, undisturbed blue. Above her pillow, posters of international medical schools were pinned in a perfect row—like dreams waiting patiently to come true.
My side? It looked like a war zone in comparison. Not messy in the traditional sense, but disheveled. The armchair sat askew, a shirt half-draped over the back. My shoes were scattered and misaligned. Controlled chaos. The outward reflection of my inward storm. I’d been too distracted, too tense yesterday getting ready to meet Levi’s father. I’d sort through the physical mess later—once I sorted through the one still unraveling inside my head.
I wandered into the kitchen and brewed coffee—black, low sugar, just how I liked it. I sat at the chipped dining table and wrapped my hands around the warm mug, letting the silence settle over me.
The apartment was empty, for now.
Matt was off somewhere with the group I kept warning him about—those idiots who thought drag racing and smashing streetlights was a valid personality. Caroline had gone to her study group, no doubt leaving one of her sticky notes on the fridge with “dinner options” and “stay focused” written in tidy handwriting.
It was rare, but blissful—the quiet.
Thank God they let me sleep.
I wasn’t ready for their questions. Not yet. But they were coming. Inevitable. Heavy. And how I would answer them?
I had no idea.
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