The next few days were quieter, but the silence between Isla and Alessandro was charged, thick with the weight of unspoken things. Every time their paths crossed, there was a lingering hesitation, a pause before the words came.
Isla couldn't shake the feeling that the calm before the storm was more dangerous than the chaos itself. The house, though secure, felt like a cage. She was trapped between the tension of her fractured trust in Alessandro and the need to find a way out of this war that had become her life.
She spent hours on her own, pacing through the large, empty rooms of the estate, trying to figure out what to do next. The truth was, she didn't know who she was anymore. Was she the woman who had walked into this world with eyes wide open, willing to do anything for survival? Or was she the woman who had kissed Alessandro with no intention of stopping, even when every instinct screamed at her to run?
Her mind was a battlefield. And at the center of it all was Alessandro.
Isla couldn't deny the pull she felt toward him, even as she tried to untangle her emotions from the mess they'd created. He was the one who had promised to keep her safe. The one who had drawn her into his world of danger and deception. But it was also the same man who had kept her in the dark, who had made decisions for her without her consent.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the lawn, Isla found herself in the study. She had no real purpose for being there, other than the fact that it was far away from the tension of the living room, where Alessandro was holding a conference call. The silence of the room was strangely comforting, though the weight of her thoughts made her feel suffocated.
She picked up a book from the shelf, but her eyes didn't focus on the words. Her mind was far away, replaying everything she had learned about Adrian Costa and the world Alessandro had come from. She hadn't been able to understand it fully, but it was clear that there were forces at play far beyond her control.
The sound of footsteps pulled her out of her thoughts. She didn't have to look up to know who it was.
Alessandro.
He didn't say anything at first, but she could feel his presence behind her. Strong. Steady. As if nothing in the world could shake him.
"Isla," he said softly, and it was the gentleness in his voice that made her heart ache.
She finally turned to face him. "What do you want, Alessandro?"
His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes, a vulnerability she hadn't seen before. "I want to talk. About us. About everything."
She crossed her arms, trying to hold onto the remnants of her composure. "What's left to say?"
"I don't want to lose you," he said quietly.
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She hadn't expected him to say that. She hadn't expected him to admit it so openly. And yet, in the face of everything that had happened, she realized—she didn't want to lose him either.
"Then why did you push me away?" Her voice trembled, but she quickly steadied herself. "Why did you think it was okay to keep me in the dark? To make decisions for me like I wasn't even here?"
Alessandro stepped closer, but she held up a hand to stop him. She wasn't ready for his touch yet. Not after everything.
"I thought I was protecting you," he said, his voice low. "I didn't want to bring you into this. Into my world. It's not a place for someone like you, Isla."
"And yet, here I am," she replied, her tone sharp. "I've been here all along, whether you wanted me to be or not."
His jaw clenched, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. "I never wanted to hurt you. But I know I have. And I can't undo that."
She swallowed hard. She didn't know how to respond. The ache in her chest was still there, but so was the undeniable pull between them. He was right. He couldn't undo the hurt. But neither could she just walk away.
"I don't know if I can trust you again," she whispered, the words barely audible.
Alessandro's eyes darkened. "Then let me prove it to you."
Before she could protest, he closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against hers. The kiss was slow, hesitant, as if he were waiting for her to pull away. But she didn't.
This time, it wasn't about the need. It wasn't about the desire. It was about something else—something deeper. A fragile thread of connection that had been frayed, but not broken.
When they finally pulled apart, Isla could see the rawness in his eyes, the vulnerability that he rarely showed. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness, Isla," he said, his voice thick. "But I'm asking for a chance to show you that I'll do whatever it takes to make this right."
Isla's heart pounded in her chest. She wasn't sure if she was ready to take that chance. But the one thing she knew, the one thing that had never changed, was that she couldn't walk away from him.
Not yet.