Chapter 203

Chapter 203
ISABELLA

It suddenly felt like we were alone in the structure, in the home, in Italy, in the world. Just me and him and this crazy need and love that I could not fight, that I didn’t know if I deserved, that felt so real yet beyond my reach. I swallowed hard, tears burning at the corners of my eyes. “I…” My voice shook, and I had to try again. “If you cannot protect me, then let me go.”
His expression darkened. His hands slid up my thighs, and even through the silk of my dress I felt the heat of his touch—searing hot. “You insult me by saying that.”
“No,” I shot back, pushing the words out before my voice broke. “You insult me by not listening. I told you to wait—this is not—I can die for you, Levi, hell I can do anything for you, kill too. But I have a family now. I cannot put my siblings at risk. They’ve had a hard life and I… it’s my duty to protect them and that I must do. But how can I do that if I’m so close to the one person who can destroy me, and the one who should protect me does not believe me?”
“I believe you…”
“No. If you did, we wouldn’t be married…”
“When will it be the right time huh?” he cut in, voice sharp but trembling underneath. “There is never a perfect time. We had to do it. You love me, I love you and that’s all that matters…”
“When my enemy—someone who wants to kill me, someone who has ruined my life once before and is threatening to do it once again—is not breathing down my neck. When my siblings aren’t in danger. When my life isn’t collapsing in front of me. When I finally get justice and feel safe in this love. Feel assured.” My hands clenched at my sides.
This is hard for me too. Why can’t he see that, why can’t he understand that?
Anger and longing tangled in my chest, scorching and inseparable. And God—his lips were so close. All I needed was one step, one surrender.
“Can we not fight now?” he whispered, voice suddenly raw, breaking the fragile tension between us.
He leaned in. Too close. Close enough to feel the charged energy thrumming between us like a living, trapped thing. I tried to step back, to speak, to regain control over my own racing thoughts—but before I could, the doors at the far end of the hall swung open.
A woman entered.
Both Levi and I turned, instinctively drawn to the disruption. Our eyes met, shocked in silent question: all the invited guests were already seated. Who was this intruder, and how had she been allowed access?
As I studied her, a strange familiarity prickled at my mind, though I could not place her. But she looked like she belonged here. Mid-fifties, perhaps, with a short, precise bob of deep brunette hair, styled sharply. Her long, angular face was partially hidden beneath dark sunglasses. She wore an emerald green gown that shimmered softly in the hall lights, elegant and poised, like a woman stepping straight out of a cinematic frame. Her presence carried a weight—quiet authority, elegance.
At her side was a younger man, likely Levi’s age. Blonde hair, icy blue eyes, sharply tailored dark suit. His expression was cold, yet curious, and he seemed to be the partner of the older woman and under her control.
The moment they stepped into the hall, Levi stiffened beside me. I could feel the tension in him coiling tight. Were they guests he didn’t want to invite? Business partners?
His gaze shifted sharply to the side where his father had been sitting, mid-conversation. Mr. Antonio froze mid-gesture, eyes widening as he looked to the woman, lips parting slightly. Both men looked as though ghosts had entered the room.
Conversations stuttered to a halt. Eyes darted across the hall to the door. The ambient hum of chatter thinned to nothing, then slowly, almost awkwardly, returned as the guests—uncertain who these strangers were—resumed their murmurs.
But Levi did not move like them. He rose abruptly, chair scraping softly against the marble floor. My pulse spiked, and without thinking, I followed him, instinctively falling in step behind him.
He strode toward the woman with purpose, controlled but fierce. When he reached her, he took her hand—tight, too tight—and guided her outside the hall, the tension radiating from him making my own heart hammer in response. Behind her, the younger man followed, silent but attentive.
I quickened my steps to keep up, even though my heels made it harder. When I glanced back, I saw Mr. Antonio trailing just behind, eyes narrowed and cautious.
Levi stopped abruptly near the lake, adorned with flowers—a perfect, serene spot, another beauty in this mansion where we had taken pictures.
He let go of her hand, his posture tense, every muscle coiled. His usual calm, confident mask had shattered, replaced by a mixture of shock and controlled anger that made my pulse spike even higher.
“What are you doing here, Mother?” He spat the words, sharp and cutting.
And suddenly, I remembered where I had seen her before. A picture of her had circulated among the interns back when I worked in Ferrari—the wife who had left our boss. Some claimed her absence had hardened Levi, made him cold. From what I was seeing now, it looked as though he hated her.
The woman lifted her head slowly, adjusting her sunglasses, and for a moment, time froze.
I swallowed, chest tightening, as her gaze turned toward me.

THE END OF BOOK 2
Please join my facebook groupchat "MiraHarlson books." to ask any questions you may have.