Chapter 156
ISABELLA
I found myself lingering by a cocktail table, my fingers curling around the cool stem of a glass as though it could steady me. The wine slid down smooth, but it did little to quiet the whirlpool in my head. Around me, the glittering crowd sparkled—laughter spilling from every corner, Levi standing tall in deep conversation with Julio and a circle of dignitaries. Yet I felt like an island in the middle of it all, untouchable, unseen.
And still, my thoughts kept circling back to Jenna. She wasn’t just bitter—she was wounded. That much was clear. Which meant Levi had been the one to end things, and he had left behind a hurt so raw that she hadn’t been able to let him go.
A cold panic slid into me. If he ever discovered the truth about me—about us—and decided to walk away, would I become like her? Would I unravel the same way? Did I even have the right to judge her when I had already stood in her shoes once before?
The realization struck like a splinter under skin: losing him then wasn’t just painful—it was the kind of loss that drove me to the edge of madness. And now, with him so close yet still so unknown, I feared that edge all over again. Because soon, I felt, what had happened before would happen again.
Why had he ended things with her? What side of Levi had she seen that I hadn’t? How much of him was hidden behind the mask he wore so easily, and how much had he chosen to keep from me?
The truth was, we didn’t really know each other—not in the way that mattered. The thought dawned sharp and heavy. I ached for something more, for a night under the stars where we could strip back the pretense and lay our truths bare—our pasts, our fears, our dreams.
After he had taken me—made me kneel, emptied every last drop of our hunger. Now, I was left with a truth I couldn’t shake: I wanted to steal him away, to vanish with him somewhere far beyond all of this, where it would be only us and nothing else.
But it was only a dream. A fragile, impossible dream. And it wasn’t going to happen.
I sighed and traced the rim of my glass, wishing Matt and Caroline hadn’t left so early. They’d been the only ones tonight who made me feel human—like myself, not just some polished ornament dangling at Levi Ferrari’s side. With them gone, the noise of the hall pressed in, glittering and suffocating.
My reflection stared back from the curve of the wine—beautiful, so beautiful—yet my eyes were empty.
The hairs at the back of my neck prickled. Someone was watching me. I knew Levi’s gaze by heart—its heat seared straight through me, heavy and claiming. This one wasn’t his. This stare made my skin itch, as though it stripped me bare and appraised the pieces.
“Now who in their right mind,” a voice broke through my spiral, warm but slightly cracked, “would leave such a damsel all by herself?”
I looked up. The man standing before me was clad in blue. His suit was a shade so bright it seemed almost electric under the chandeliers, matching the pale shimmer of his eyes. Salt-and-pepper hair framed a tanned face, handsome in a way that was practiced, deliberate. A neatly trimmed beard softened the edge of his smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His glass, half-empty, dangled loosely in his hand as if it had been there too long.
He wasn’t tall—about my height, maybe a fraction more—but he carried himself with the swagger of someone used to filling a room.
“Can I join you?” he asked, already halfway to pulling the chair across from me.
I offered him a small, polite smile, the kind meant to keep distance while avoiding insult. “It’s a party. Anyone can sit where they want to.”
He slid into the chair, leaning back as though the place had always been his. “You can call me Julian.”
“Isabella,” I said simply, lifting my glass again. The wine was smooth on my tongue, but it did nothing to chase the unease creeping along my skin.
Julian tilted his head, studying me with the bold curiosity of a boy who hadn’t learned restraint. His smile widened. “You’re really beautiful, you know.”
The compliment was clumsy, too practiced to land the way he wanted, but earnest enough that I gave him a short nod. “Thank you.”
“Are you alone?” he asked, tone light, casual—like he didn’t care what the answer was.
My brows arched before I could stop them. Alone? Everyone here knew exactly who I was with. Either he was blissfully unaware or dangerously stupid. Perhaps both.
Then another thought struck me. What if he was sent to test me?
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