Chapter 162
LEVI
Every second I stayed away from her—inside that house, outside beneath its lights—felt like a blade pressing deeper into me. She was out there by the fountain, waiting by the car, trembling in the cold night air while I was trapped inside, keeping up with optics I didn’t give a damn about.
Outside, security strained against the tide of reporters clawing at the gates. Cameras flashed like lightning, shouted questions pelting me one after another. I tuned it all out, my mind already halfway gone. None of it mattered. Holding them back wouldn’t stop them. I knew that by morning, my name, Isabella’s, Julian’s—every syllable of this night—would be plastered across headlines, dissected by vultures who had no idea what had really happened.
And still, none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting back to her.
When I had spoken to all the guests that “mattered”—or rather, when I could no longer stomach another meaningless word—I let the performance die. The truth was simpler: I couldn’t stand being away from Isabella any longer. The distance between us burned, and I cut it short, striding back to where she waited.
The moment I appeared, she exhaled, a sigh of relief so raw it twisted something deep inside me. She smiled faintly, weary and soft, and in that expression I saw everything I craved—proof that she had missed me, proof that she felt safe with me, that my presence was her shield. That she felt protected by me. That was all I wanted, all I would ever want for her—not just to know she was loved, but to feel it in every breath, every heartbeat, every moment I stood between her and the world.
It hit me then, sharp and undeniable. I loved this woman.
The thought almost drew a smile from me, bitter and sweet all at once, but I swallowed it back, remembering the chaos still circling us, the bruises on her skin, the blood drying on my knuckles. This was not the time. Not the place. Love was too sacred to be confessed in the ashes of disaster.
So I buried it. Tucked it deep, telling myself I could confront the truth later—when the moment was right, when she wasn’t trembling from another man’s touch. I was a man. Surely I could hold off. Surely I could keep this storm caged until it was safe to let it loose.
Surely.
I wrapped my hand protectively around her waist and steered her into the car. My coat swallowed her frame, hiding the bruises crawling up her delicate arms, but it couldn’t disguise the swelling in her cheek or the hollow devastation in her eyes. When she sank into the leather seat, I gave her a moment, standing there as if my presence alone could shield her from the night.
The driver hurried around and opened the opposite door for me. I slid in beside her, careful—close enough for her to feel me there, to know she wasn’t alone, but far enough to give her the space to breathe, to feel untrapped. She had already been cornered once tonight. I wouldn’t add to that.
Only when the engine roared to life, the car pulling away from the flashing cameras and chaos behind us, did I let out a long, shaking breath. Relief, sharp and thin, bled through me. We were leaving it all behind. For now.
The streets blurred past the tinted windows, and I realized with a jolt that this would be Isabella’s first night in my home. The thought twisted inside me, strange and heavy. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. Gratitude that she would be under my roof, safe at last? Or bitterness that it had taken blood, humiliation, and violence to bring her there?
But none of that mattered. Not yet. My focus was locked solely on her.
She sat quietly, small against the seat, her hands knotted in her lap as though she were holding herself together. She looked fragile—breakable in a way that made me want to tear Julian apart all over again with my bare hands.
And yet, beneath all that fury, guilt gnawed at me, merciless and unrelenting. It coiled around my chest like a fist, squeezing tighter with every breath I took beside her. I should never have left her alone.
I should never have left her alone. I should have taken her with me to speak with every investor, even if it bored her, even if it made her feel aloof. I had thought I was giving her space to breathe, to integrate into my world in her own way so she would start to get used to it. Instead, I had left her vulnerable.
And now I saw exactly where that decision had led us.
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