Chapter 21: The storm between us
Isabella’s POV
The mansion was quiet again, too quiet. The kind of silence that crawls under your skin and makes every sound echo a little louder. I’d been staring at the ceiling for over an hour, trying to ignore the storm of thoughts circling in my head.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Enzo.
About the drawing. The lyrics.
About the way his voice broke when he yelled at me to get out.
I wrapped my blanket tighter, pressing my face into the pillow, but the image of his eyes, that look of fury and something else I couldn’t name, kept replaying. I hated it. I hated that he could get under my skin like that.
A knock broke the silence.
I froze. It was soft but firm.
Then his voice followed, low, smooth, dangerous.
“Bella. Open the door.”
My pulse jumped.
Part of me wanted to pretend I was asleep, but another part, the reckless one, pushed me to my feet before I could stop myself. When I opened the door, Enzo stood there, hair damp, T-shirt clinging to his chest, that familiar unreadable look on his face.
“What do you want?” I asked, trying not to sound nervous.
His eyes flickered over my face, searching. “We need to talk.”
“About you walking in half-naked earlier or about you yelling at me like I broke into a vault?”
He exhaled sharply. “You shouldn’t have been in my room.”
“Then maybe lock your door next time.”
His jaw tensed. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
He stepped closer, the space between us shrinking. His voice dropped low, almost a growl. “You went through my things.”
“So what?” I lifted my chin. “You’ve been watching me since the day you got here. I figured I deserved to know a few things too.”
He looked away for a second, his hands flexing by his sides. “You have no idea what you’re walking into, Bella.”
“Then tell me.”
He laughed, a humorless sound that sent shivers down my spine. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze softened just a little, and it was worse because anger I could handle. This, whatever this was, made my chest ache.
“I saw the drawing,” I said quietly. “The one of me.”
His eyes snapped to mine, sharp and dangerous again. “That was nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.”
He stepped closer until I could feel the warmth radiating off him. “You think the world revolves around you?” he whispered.
I swallowed hard, my voice smaller now. “You made it look like it did.”
Something flickered in his eyes, maybe, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
“Go to bed, Bella.”
“No.” My voice trembled, but I stood my ground. “I’m tired of not knowing what’s going on. You and Giovanni, the way you both show up and pretend to care…”
He cut me off with a sharp look. “I’m not pretending.”
“Then prove you’re different!”
His silence said more than words could.
I took a small step back, my breath shaky. “Why do I feel like you’re hiding something from me?”
“Because I am,” he said quietly.
My heart stuttered. “What?”
He smirked faintly, though his eyes didn’t match the expression. “Don’t look so shocked. Everyone hides something, Bella.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Maybe not. But it’s all you’re getting tonight.”
He turned like he was going to leave, but something in me snapped. “You can’t just say things like that and walk away!”
He stopped, his hand resting on the doorframe. “Then what do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
He turned back, eyes locking onto mine, dark and unreadable. “There is no truth.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air felt thick, heavy with everything unsaid.
Then he took a slow step toward me. “You should hate me,” he said softly. “You really should.”
“Maybe I do,” I whispered.
He smiled faintly, a broken, bitter thing. “You don’t.”
The clock downstairs ticked louder than usual, its echo bouncing off the marble walls like a heartbeat. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw the way Enzo’s face twisted in anger when he caught me in his room.
He had come and said something, but it wasn’t an apology. It was things that only made my blood boil.
The words he yelled, “Get out,” were still ringing in my head.
I tossed on the bed for the tenth time before finally giving up. My throat was dry, and the house felt too quiet. The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful—it was heavy, charged. I grabbed my robe and slipped out of my room, my bare feet making soft taps against the floor as I made my way to the kitchen.
The night was calm. The only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator and the whisper of the wind outside. I poured a glass of water and stood there, staring at nothing, when I felt it, the weight of someone’s gaze.
I turned sharply.
Enzo stood by the hallway entrance, shirtless, a towel hanging low around his waist like he’d just stepped out of the shower. His hair was damp, messy in a way that made him look infuriatingly good. His green eyes were unreadable, dark under the soft kitchen light.
I froze, gripping my glass tighter.
“What?” I snapped, breaking the silence first. “I demand an apology,” I said.
“You’re the one who broke into my room,” he said quietly, walking closer, his voice low and rough. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions?”
My heart kicked hard against my ribs.
“I was just—”
“Snooping?” he cut in. “Looking for something to use against me?”
I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Maybe I was looking for the truth. Someone has to.”
He let out a dry laugh, stopping just inches from me. “You think you can handle the truth, Bella?”
The way he said my name, slow and deliberate, made my chest tighten.
“Yes,” I said stubbornly, though my voice wasn’t as strong as I wanted.
He stared at me for a long moment before looking away, his jaw flexing. “You shouldn’t have gone through my things.”
He exhaled, his hand raking through his hair. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Then make me understand!” I shouted, the sound bouncing off the cold walls. “You keep saying I can’t, that I don’t know enough, that you’re protecting me but from what?!”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer, his scent flooding my senses—soap, mint, something darker underneath. My back hit the counter. His face was inches from mine now, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Do you know what it’s like,” he said, “to want something so bad but know you shouldn’t?”
My pulse hammered. “Enzo…”
He leaned closer, his breath brushing my skin. “You drive me insane, Bella. You make me forget why I came here in the first place.”
“Then why did you come?” I whispered, my chest rising fast.
He hesitated. For a second, I saw the conflict in his eyes, like he was fighting himself.
“To protect you,” he finally said.
“From who?” I pressed.
He looked away, jaw tightening. “It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have seen what you saw. You shouldn’t have been in my room.”
I wanted to hate him for how cold he sounded, but I couldn’t. My heart wouldn’t let me.
“I’m not a child, Enzo. I deserve to know what’s going on around me.”
His eyes met mine again, burning with something between anger and longing. “You deserve to be safe,” he said, his voice rough. “That’s all.”
“Safe from what?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his hand brushed against my arm, almost by accident, but the spark that shot through me was anything but accidental. My breath hitched. His eyes dropped to my lips, and for a dangerous second, I thought he was going to kiss me.
Then he pulled back abruptly, his expression cold again.
“Go to bed, Bella,” he said, turning away. “Before you start a fire you can’t put out.”
“Enzo,” I called, my voice trembling. “You can’t keep doing this, pushing me away, then pulling me back.”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “And you can’t keep looking for things you’re not ready to find.”
He started walking off, and something inside me snapped.
“Was any of it real?” I asked quietly. “What you said earlier, about wanting me?”
He froze. For a moment, the silence stretched so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he turned slightly, just enough for me to see his eyes.
“It was real,” he said softly. “That’s the problem.”
My breath caught.
He disappeared down the hallway, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe.
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the ache, the confusion, the fire he’d left behind.