Chapter 31 My love for you
Dante's POV.
The morning sunlight hit the floor of the office.
I turned and saw her coming in. Isla. She was a perfect slim figure. Back straight, expression steady.
Except that her eyes kept flickering on the files she carried like a weight.
She walked past the reception without stopping or flinching. She had this confidence that amazed me.
Unlike the others who always tried hard to measure themselves against her or worse, measure her against me.
I watched her from my desk, letting my eyes roll around every movement she made.
The way her hands brushed gently on the paper she was holding, the way her hair fell over her shoulder.
I could see her thinking about more than work. The distance she put between herself and the world, she had always shielded herself without asking for permission.
I stood when she passed, looking at her for a moment too long.
The way her lips pressed into a thin line. I offered a nod, almost invisible, but she caught it.
She didn’t smile, but I noticed the way her shoulders eased. And that was enough for me.
The morning passed with the usual activities. Meetings and strategies. She was focused.
Even when she focused, I could tell when her thoughts drifted. The way her fingers stayed too long on her tablet.
The way she held a pen like she wanted to jot down something but didn’t.
I leaned back in my chair and picked up the phone, and dialed for my assistant. “Keep an eye on Isla,” I said flatly. “If she leaves the office, or anything seems off, let me know immediately.”
“Yes, Sir,” he replied sharply.
I hung up and exhaled slowly. There wasn’t any need for me to overreact, I just needed to know, and the last thing I could do was to let my guard down.
When she approached my desk with a stack of reports, I noticed her shaking slightly as she put the files down.
She didn’t speak. And she never does especially when whatever was bothering her was at the verge of weighing her down.
I reached my hands, my fingers brushed her slightly as I adjusted the files.
Her eyes widened immediately, and I noticed. A spark passed between us…
“You look pale,” I said, voice low.
“Is it that obvious?” She asked, touching her face. “I’m fine,” she replied, but her eyes fluttered.
I didn’t answer or push harder, I just sat silent.
A knock at the door drew our attention. One of the junior executives stepped in. “Sir, I need clarification on the Romano expansion project,” he said, looking straight at Isla, like he was reminding her that she was just a secretary and wasn’t worthy of the conversation.
I didn’t allow the tension press longer. I stood and moved between them. “She’s part of us,” I said, voice firm and controlled.
She blinked at me, expecting me to raise my voice. No one had ever done that for her without making it about themselves.
She took a breath and straightened, and started talking. Her voice was steady and each word carried weight.
I watched the executive’s expression falter. She didn’t need me. She already had what it takes.
After the meeting, I followed her into the hallway, our footsteps quiet. Neither of us spoke to each other.
I didn’t crowd her, but I didn’t let her walk alone.
My hand brushed her once as we passed a corner.
It was nothing more than a touch, but she froze.
She took a sharp breath. I didn’t stop, I just let it flow and she didn’t push away either.
“You handled yourself well,” I said softly.
“I’m just doing my job,” she replied, k cornering her eyes.
I took another step toward her, close enough that we could feel the skin of each other. “That doesn’t feel like it,” I murmured. “You’re not just doing your job. You’re standing here, making me notice you.”
She swallowed slowly. “I’m not sure I want to be noticed,” she said.
I tilted my head. Letting the corner of my lips lift slightly. “You’re not in any place to decide that. Not yet.”
Her eyes flicked to mine. I could see the question forming in them. The fear and the doubt, and hope.
I didn’t move, I just let the tension stay there. Let her wonder if she could trust it.
The day passed into the blurt of files , calls, and board room meetings.
I didn’t leave her side, not completely, even when she tried to do a task, I adjusted her schedule without asking.
Every action I took was deliberate and protective without claiming ownership.
At one point when she walked past my office, with a phone to her ear, saying words I didn’t really catch up with. Her lips moved quickly and her brows knitted in worry.
I didn’t bother or interfere, I just followed quietly behind her, catching her as she hung up.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
She turned startled, as if she noticed that I was there. Her voice came out shaky. “It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure?” I said quietly. “You can tell me.”
She hesitated, jaw dropping, eyes flicking away. And then finally she spoke up. “It’s my sister,” she admitted. “My father. He’s trying to…” her words broke.
I stepped closer, the heat between us, undeniable, just letting my presence do the talking. “I’ll handle it,” I said. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
Her breath hitched. She didn’t step back. Her hands kept trembling slightly at her sides. The words she was forming.
“I don’t want to depend on anyone,” she whispered.
“You are not,” I said. “You’re choosing to let me help.”
She looked up then, eyes wide, looking directly at mine.
Her look was sharp and vulnerable, and full of questions. I brushed my thumb across the back of her hand.
Her chest rose and fell too quickly. I didn’t pull away, I just let the tension linger, I just wanted her to feel it.
“You’re different,” she said finally, voice quiet.
“Am I?” I replied. “I’ve learned. I have made mistakes before and I won’t make the same ones with you.”
She blinked. The office around us faded into a background of noise. There was just this space between us, it was warm and tense.
“I need to be careful,” she murmured. “I can’t…”
“I know,” I said. “And you won’t have to. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her lips opened to say something but nothing and out. There was this unspoken tension between us.
I leaned a little closer, enough that the heat in my chest brushed hers.
She stiffened, then relaxed, letting her space return.
She moved toward her desk, eyes flicking to me briefly, then down to her papers.
I watched her, the tension still lingered between us. I studied the fear, the hope, and the restraint all in a woman whi had been through too much and refused to be broken.
By evening, when the office quieted, she gathered her things.
I watched her moved slowly, unlike her. I caught up to her at the elevator.
“Tomorrow,” I said softly, brushing a strand of hair between her ear, careful not to overstep. Her breath caught, a sharp inhale, and she didn’t move away.
“Tomorrow,” she asked. Voice audible.
“Yes,” I said. “We’ll handle everything tomorrow. Together.”
Her eyes met mine, like she was looking for something.
As the door closed, I watched her reflection in the glass. She didn’t know yet how much she could trust me or how far I would keep her safe.
But she would know soon. And by then, it would be too late to turn back.
I just let myself wonder, not loudly.
Could she ever trust someone like me without fear?