Chapter 138
**ISABELLA**
I shut the door with more force than necessary, the sharp click echoing through the living room. For a moment, I leaned against it, eyes closed, trying to steady the storm inside me. *You can do this,* I whispered inwardly. *Get it over with. Play your part. Just a few more weeks, and it’ll all be over.*
But then my anger was short-lived. A smile curled at the edges of my lips, uninvited, dangerous. Just the thought of seeing Levi again—after yesterday—made my core simmer with a heat I couldn’t quite hide. I clenched my thighs together reflexively, a small, wicked laugh rising in my throat despite the need, as I remembered again that I had left him naked. The memory hit me like a jolt of forbidden pleasure.
Another wave of insane laughter burst free, louder now, uncontrollable. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes as my whole body shook with sheer delight. I knew that he would come out of it unscathed for the most part—hoped he would—but still, the fact that I had the guts to, that I had one over him, was just delightful.
All my anger at being ordered around by him, all the carefully banked fire, extinguished in that moment of perfect, petty triumph.
Even as I gasped for breath, wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes, my smile deepened into something feral. Levi wasn’t going to take what I did lying down—not a man like him. No. He was going to punish me for it. And somehow… that punishment was starting to feel less like a threat and more like a reward I was craving.
I knew—deep down—I didn’t just do it out of the promise I made to his father. I did it for this too. For him. For the games we played. For the thrill of him.
Still chuckling to myself, I moved to get ready. I picked out a short, flared red gown with puffed sleeves and a square neckline that skimmed the tops of my breasts—just enough skin to feel powerful without making it look like I was trying to seduce him.
The color screamed bold. Dangerous. Untouchable. I slipped on a pair of crisp white sandals and grabbed a small white purse to match. Simple, elegant—perhaps not quite what a Ferrari bride was supposed to wear, but certainly nothing close to trashy.
I locked the door behind me and slid the key beneath the mat, where either Caroline or Matt would find it when they got back. Then, drawing in a slow breath, I headed for the waiting limousine.
Each step toward it brought even more flashes—electric and overwhelming—of the first time with Levi. How it felt. How it changed me. The moment the driver opened the door, my stomach fluttered with too many things at once.
Levi sat inside already, a black coat and white slacks, legs crossed, head bent low over his phone. He didn’t even glance up when I entered. That was new.
The laughter drained from me like someone had turned off a switch. My breath caught as I sank into the leather seat across from him. The door shut with a muffled thud and the engine purred to life, but all I could hear was the silence growing between us. He had never ignored me like this—ever. He was always fire, while I, damn me, was always the gasoline lighting up the fire. But today it seemed he was taking a different route in punishing me, and this route would kill me faster than any word. And it seems he knew that.
I wanted to speak—God, I ached to speak—but I didn’t. If he wanted to pretend I wasn’t here, fine. Let him. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe the silence would protect us from the truth. And yet... why did it hurt like this?
I brought out my phone from my purse to scroll through, but everything just seemed so blank, so uninteresting.
We pulled up to *Ve Ru Beauty*—a boutique so opulent it practically bled wealth. The exterior was all smooth cream stone and glass, with gold-lettered signage that shimmered under the afternoon sun. The windows sparkled literally, revealing glimpses of endless racks of designer gowns and glittering jewelry that looked too expensive to even breathe near.
The driver stepped out first to open the door for Levi. He exited and came to stand beside me—but he didn’t reach for my hand. Not even a glance. I tried to stay still, to keep my composure, but my fingers betrayed me. My pinky twitched toward his on instinct, brushing gently against the back of his hand.
He pulled away quickly, like the contact had burned him.
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