Chapter 70

Levi’s POV

My baby was in shock, and I was scared she might pass out. Her breath was unsteady, shallow, almost nonexistent, and the tremor in her fingers made me realize just how much this moment was shaking her.

I had imagined this conversation a hundred different ways, playing out every possible reaction in my mind. Would she scream? Would she walk away? Would she even believe me? But no matter how many times I tried to convince myself there could be a right time to tell her, the answer never changed—there was no perfect moment.

And yet, with my father summoning me to New York, I had run out of time.

It had all happened too soon, even for me. I still had a week before I had to leave, yet something about tonight had made it feel like the right time—or at least, the only time. And Leroy had come through for me, just when I needed him to.

I had sent him a text from the car.

Remember that surprise I told you about?

It’s today.

I already knew why my father had summoned me. It was the same old game, the same old power play—pressure me into marriage, push me toward Elena, force my hand into a future I wanted no part of. But he didn’t understand that I wasn’t a pawn on his damn chessboard.

Still, for all my defiance, there were nights like this when I wished I had someone to talk to. Someone who understood what it felt like to bear the weight of a name that wasn’t entirely your own. The suffocating expectations. The invisible chains.

But I had always kept that part of my life locked away, my relationships and sex life guarded like a secret no one could reach.

No one except Leroy.

I had met him in London years ago, back when I was still in college. He had been the driver for the agent listing this house. And from the moment I stepped inside, I knew I needed it. A sanctuary. A place where I could disappear—at least for a little while and in a city I loved.

Every Christmas, I came here alone, just me and my thoughts. But three years ago, Leroy had shown up at my door, looking for a job. The agent he worked with had relocated to Toronto, leaving him stranded. He had only wanted work for the holidays. I had hired him without a second thought.

Since then, he had worked for me every Christmas, sometimes sharing a drink, sometimes sharing in my stories. More often than not, though, he was the one doing the talking.

It was still November when I called him this time, but when I told him I was bringing a woman, his surprise had been almost comical. He had been happy for me, more than I expected. Maybe because he knew me well enough to understand that bringing someone here meant something.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what tonight would mean. My heart pounded against my ribs as I absorbed Isabella’s reaction, her shattered expression searing into my memory.

And I stared, trying to swallow the devastation in her expression.

Tears welled in her eyes, shimmering under the dim light, and I hated it. Hated seeing her like this. Hated that I was the reason for it.

She looked breathtaking in the red silk gown I had picked out for her at Chanel. It draped over her body like it had been made for her, the deep plunge revealing just enough to drive me insane. The open back. The way the fabric slid over her skin.

I wanted nothing more than to strip it off her.

But this wasn’t the time.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to focus. She had asked me a question.

"Why did you lie to me?"

I swallowed, my throat tight, my mind racing.

Because I was afraid. Because I didn’t want to lose you.

It wasn’t an answer and I didn’t know if I had any.

The silence stretched, and she let out a shaky breath, her gaze searching mine for something—anything—that could make sense of this.

Her voice trembled as she repeated the question. “Why?”

I clenched my fists, regret stinging like a fresh wound as I pushed myself to my feet. I had been kneeling for what felt like an eternity. The urge to go to her was unbearable—to reach for her, to hold her—but as I took a step forward, she lifted a hand, halting me in my tracks.

“I didn’t know either,” I finally said, exhaling. “Not at first. I only found out later.”

Her lips parted, but it wasn’t in shock—it was in betrayal. It was written in the way her eyes darkened, in the subtle tremor of her fingers as she clenched them at her sides.

“When?” she demanded, her voice a whisper, but no less deadly. “When did you find out?”

“A few days after we started chatting.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Then, her eyes widened, something breaking in them like glass splintering under pressure.

“It’s been months.” Her voice wavered, laced with disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but she wasn’t finished.

“I’ve been thinking—this whole time—I was betraying my master.” She sucked in a breath as though she had been struck, her hands curling into tight fists before she pressed one over her mouth, her mind working through something damning. “You’ve been playing me.”

I took a step forward, but she shook her head, her body going rigid.

“All this time,” she whispered, her voice sharp as a blade. “You’ve been making me serve my punishment. Bringing you coffee, inviting you into my home—” she choked on the last word, the realization hitting her like a storm. “It was all a game to you.”

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair, frustration and desperation intertwining. “Isabella, my life is complicated. My father—” I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “My father controls more than he should, and no matter how much I try to deny it, he dictates too much. I wanted to be free of him before I dragged you into this mess. I needed to be sure before I told you the truth.”

Her expression hardened, but she didn’t move away.

“But I wanted you with me, Isabella. You are my calm in this crazy world. Without you, I feared I would lose my mind. I just wanted you close—no matter what.”

A muscle in her jaw tensed. She turned her face away, as though that would make it easier to process my words without letting me see how much they affected her. But I wasn’t done.

“Seeing my mother again, watching how it affects him—how he regrets not fighting for the woman he loved—it made me realize something.” I stepped closer, my body tight with anticipation, watching for any sign that she would push me away. “I don’t want to make the same mistake.”

Her breath hitched, her lashes fluttering as though she was caught between anger and something else—something softer.

“I want you, Isabella,” I said, voice rough with emotion. “And I want to fight for you. Whatever game there is to play from now on—I want us to play it together.”

The next four chapter is going to be spicy, shocking and very nerve wrecking as we finally come to the end of the book one. Please join my facebook groupchat 'Mira Harlson Books."