Chapter 65

My heart pounded as I met his gaze, uncertainty coiling in my chest. Was he about to discuss work, or was this something personal?

He had said he was thinking of someone. That single statement had burrowed deep into me, needling at my composure. Was it the girlfriend June insisted he had? Or was he about to say what I had been waiting to hear all this while—that I would be retained after my internship? The thought of the latter sent a strange mix of hope and fear coursing through me. But if it was the former... I could not help the pang of jealousy that stung my heart just thinking about it.

Levi exhaled, his thumb brushing lightly against my chin before he pulled away, stepping back to study my expression. The space between us felt charged, like it was inflammable. His lips parted, and just as he was about to speak, the sharp trill of his phone shattered the moment.

I jerked my gaze toward the device resting on the desk. Even before he picked it up, I had already seen the name flashing across the screen.

"It’s my dad," he said, his voice laced with something unreadable. "Sorry, but I have to take this call."

I swallowed, nodding. "Okay, sir."

The timing was both a relief and a torment. The air between us had grown so thick with tension that I felt like I might collapse under its weight. My pulse was erratic, my ears filled with the sound of my own blood rushing.

Levi turned away, pacing toward the far end of the room before answering. His voice dropped into a low whisper, his posture tightening as he listened. I watched, transfixed, as a muscle feathered in his jaw, his free hand clenching and unclenching at his side. Whatever was being said on the other end of that line was affecting him deeply.

I had a fair idea why as I had heard some rumours about his family in the office. His father had met his mother many years ago on this day. His mother had cheated, had left his father and a newborn Levi behind, vanishing into a life of her own making. And now, she was back, stirring old wounds, dragging up emotions Levi had likely spent years burying.

No wonder he had been distracted earlier. No wonder his mind had been elsewhere. It seemed it wasn’t just him affected but his father too.

To the outside world, Levi was a man of steel—a figure of power and dominance, someone who commanded respect with a mere glance. But underneath that hard shell, his heart must still beat with the same raw emotions the rest of us carried. Mommy issues made people go a little crazy—I could relate.

I thought of my own past, my own demons. The nights I spent locking my bedroom door, pressing my weight against it to keep the drunken men my mother brought home from stepping inside. The way she had tossed my father out like trash when he lost his job, replacing him with a rotating cast of strangers who cared nothing for me, only for her. The way she had moved on without hesitation, having other children after I had left, children I had never met and had no desire to.

My childhood had been a battlefield, and though I had made it out, the scars remained.

So, despite everything, I felt a pang of understanding for Levi. It was ridiculous, really. He didn’t need my pity. He had money—more than most people would see in generations. He had power, influence, the world at his feet. But emotions weren’t dictated by wealth. Some pains ran deeper than money could reach.

The master had once told me I had a good heart, and I knew he had been right. Although, In this world, softness was a weakness, but it was a weakness I had never been able to rid myself of.

Levi’s voice faded back into my awareness as he muttered something into the phone, his tone clipped, controlled. Then, with a final sigh, he hung up and turned back toward me.

"Sorry about that," he said, his voice measured but lacking its usual edge. He walked back to his chair, settling into it with a visible effort to regain focus. "Now let’s finish the manuscript. I won’t be distracted this time."

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my pen. I wanted to ask about what he had meant to say earlier, to press for the words that had been left hanging in the air between us. But I could see it—the shift in his demeanor, the way his father’s call had altered his mood and I didn’t want to piss him off.

"Okay, sir."

And just like that, we returned to work. The earlier tension, though still humming beneath the surface, slowly faded into the rhythm of our tasks. The hours stretched, measured by the quiet clicks of my keyboard as I asked questions and he answered and I wrote down his answers adjusting until they were perfect with his approval. By the time we were finally done, it was nearly midnight.

A deep sigh escaped me before I even realized I was holding my breath. I hadn’t intended to stay this late, but time had a way of slipping through my fingers when I was around him because I was so eager to do my job and do it well.

The airport had settled into an eerie stillness, both alive and strangely subdued. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow, their reflections gleaming off the polished floors like fragments of artificial daylight. The air held the scent of coffee gone stale and the faint tang of airport disinfectant—clean yet impersonal, like a place that never truly slept.

A few stragglers remained, their exhaustion palpable. Some had surrendered to fatigue, sprawled out across rows of rigid chairs, their heads resting on bundled-up jackets or travel bags. Others sat hunched over their phones, faces bathed in blue light, their fingers scrolling with the kind of aimless repetition that came from waiting too long.

“It’s time we headed back to the hotel,” Levi announced, his voice cutting through the quiet.

I glanced up to find him already rising to his feet, the authority in his stance as effortless as the command itself.

With a quiet exhale, I gathered my things—sliding my phone, notebook, and scattered papers into my bag. The zipper whined softly as I pulled it shut. When I looked up again, Levi was watching me.

His hands were outstretched.

“Let me have it,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument.

I hesitated, shifting the weight of my rather large handbag onto my shoulder. “You don’t have to, sir.”

“But I want to,” he countered smoothly.

Something about the way he said it sent a ripple down my spine.

I hesitated again, but then his voice dipped—lower, sharper, tinged with something both chiding and impatient. “Isabella.”

The way he spoke my name made my fingers tighten around the strap. It was a tone that was dangerously familiar, uncomfortably so. My master’s voice.

I swallowed. Slowly, almost reluctantly, I handed him the bag.

A strange current passed between us the moment his fingers brushed against mine—nagging, electric. Nagging, because a creeping fear whispered that Levi and Mr. L were becoming harder to separate in my mind. That the way he commanded, the way his presence filled the space between us, was starting to blur the lines I had so carefully drawn.

And electric… because some part of me suspected this night held promises of something more. Something I wasn’t sure I was ready to experience.