Chapter 153
ISABELLA
The hall glowed, chandeliers scattering gold across marble floors polished to mirrors. Everywhere I turned, there were art pieces so exquisite they seemed almost unreal, perfectly staged for the event. Even without being told, I could tell the party was less about people and more about displaying his collection. The guests were impressed—and, to be honest, so was I. For a moment, studying the art eased the weight in my chest. Detached from the crowd, from my own body, it was the only way I knew how to survive.
The scent of champagne and power clung to the air, grounding me in ways nothing else could.
“You’ve been lost in thought,” Levi murmured once we finally claimed a spot near the bar. He had spent the last twenty minutes shaking hands, making introductions, weaving me through the sea of Ferrari allies and rivals alike. I smiled and nodded in all the right places, but inside, I was unraveling.
A waiter slipped a crystal glass into my hand, chilled white wine catching the light. I drank deeply, but the cold did nothing to loosen the knot in my stomach.
Levi’s gaze tracked every movement. “You know,” he said, his voice low, laced with teasing only I could hear, “nursing that drink won’t stop you from talking to me.”
My lips curved faintly as I took another sip—slower, deliberate. His brow arched, amused, before his arm slid around my waist, grounding me with his warmth.
“I thought you weren’t speaking to me anymore,” I said, meeting his eyes, though my heart was racing hard despite my attempt at a light tone.
“You want to play hard to get…”
“Ferrari Junior.”
I glanced past Levi, the voice pulling me back. A middle-aged man, silver at his temples, approached with an affable grin and a glass of whiskey in hand.
Levi’s hand slipped from my waist as he turned.
“Joe.” Levi’s composure shifted instantly, his smile one of smooth recognition. They clasped hands firmly, then embraced in a brief hug.
“And this must be Isabella.” Joe’s attention turned to me, his handshake softer, his smile warmer. “My dear, you’re even lovelier than I’ve heard. You two make a perfect pair.”
“Thank you,” I said politely, returning the smile with practiced ease.
“May I borrow your husband for a minute?” he added with a chuckle, eyes twinkling.
“Oh, please do.” I gestured lightly.
Levi gave me a look—half warning, half promise: you haven’t gotten rid of me yet. Be good. Stay close. Then Joe drew him into conversation across the room.
But his eyes… they never left me.
Even as he laughed with Joe, even as he charmed another circle of guests, I felt it—the weight of his gaze. Across the chandeliers and golden light, across the rising hum of music and clinking glasses, his eyes sought me out again and again. Watching. Possessive. Hungry.
I tried to disappear into the safety of the bar, where a kind-faced woman struck up gentle conversation. Her words were soft, her perfume lilac-sweet against the sharp colognes saturating the room. For a fleeting moment, I almost felt normal.
And then his voice cut through the din—smooth, low, commanding.
“May I have my wife?”
It wasn’t a question. It was a claim.
The woman laughed, kissed my cheek, and left me with him. Suddenly it was just us again, the space between us charged. Levi’s gaze was a blade against my skin, so sharp it hurt to meet it. I turned away, pretending to admire the art on the walls.
But I couldn’t hold it in. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.
His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing as though I had interrupted some delicate calculation. “Did you say something?” His tone was clipped, dismissive, as if he hadn’t truly expected me to speak at all.
I hesitated, caught between retreat and confrontation. My chest tightened, but I forced the words out anyway. “Yes. Why do you keep staring at me?” My voice came thinner than I wanted, trembling at the edges, but I refused to take it back.
“Isabella, you’re shaking. What’s wrong?” His words softened, almost a whisper, as he caught my hand. Concern flickered in his eyes. “You’re running a temperature.”
For a moment, I almost believed he might step closer, might reach for me here, might hold me—kiss me—
But before he could, a voice sliced through the air like a blade.
“Hi, Levi…”
He stilled. His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched tight.
“Jenna.”
The name fell from his lips—simple, heavy—and I recognized it instantly.
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