Chapter 55 The morning after
She didn’t sleep.
Not really. How could she ? it was as if she was just realising the weight of everything happening at once. Her love for this man. He love for her family. Her choices. Her mind could not rest.
Isabella lay on her side, propped slightly on one elbow, watching the slow rise and fall of Alessandro’s chest. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp she had refused to turn off. Every time his breath hitched—even slightly—her body tensed.
He slept heavier than usual.
The wound had taken more from him than he wanted to admit.
She traced the outline of his face with her eyes, memorizing it like it could disappear if she looked away for too long. The faint line between his brows. The shadow of stubble along his jaw. The way his hand rested open on the sheets, relaxed for once.
She reached out and hovered her fingers just above his skin.
Didn’t touch.
Didn’t want to wake him.
Fear lived quietly in her chest, no longer screaming, just… present. The kind that stayed when everything else went silent.
What if Marco never forgives me?
The thought came uninvited.
She swallowed.
She had stopped asking for forgiveness a long time ago—but grief had a way of circling back to old wounds. Marco was her brother. Once, he had been her protector. Once, she had believed family meant safety.
Now she knew better.
Still, some small, aching part of her wondered if there would ever be a version of the world where she could walk past him without flinching. Without feeling like she had shattered something that could never be rebuilt.
Her gaze drifted back to Alessandro.
Would Marco ever forgive him?
She already knew the answer.
No.
And for the first time, that didn’t feel like something she needed to fix.
She shifted closer, careful not to disturb the bandage at his side, and rested her cheek against the pillow near his shoulder. Listening. Counting his breaths until they steadied her own.
If this was the price, she would pay it.
She would choose this.
Over and over again.
Morning came quietly.
No alarms. No urgency. Just pale light slipping through the curtains and touching the edges of the room.
Alessandro woke slowly, disoriented for a moment—until he felt it.
Eyes on him.
He blinked and turned his head.
Isabella was there, lying on her side facing him, chin propped in her hand, hair loose around her shoulders. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t tense.
She was smiling.
Not wide. Not bright.
Real.
“How long have you been awake?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.
She tilted her head. “Long enough to decide you snore less when you’re injured.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She shifted closer, careful, her fingers brushing his arm—testing, like she was still learning where the danger lived.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Less than yesterday.”
“Lie.”
He didn’t argue.
Her smile softened. She studied him for a long moment, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth.
Slow.
Unhurried.
A kiss without panic in it.
Something in his chest loosened.
“I watched you all night,” she admitted quietly.
His brows drew together. “Bella—”
“I know,” she said gently, cutting him off. “You don’t need to apologize. I wanted to.”
She rested her forehead against his. “I just needed to know you were still here.”
“I am,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She believed him.
That was new.
Her hand slid to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm. Her body relaxed in a way it hadn’t in days, tension draining out slowly, like she was finally safe enough to let it go.
“I don’t want to think today,” she whispered. “Just… feel.”
Alessandro didn’t answer with words.
He kissed her again—deeper this time, but still careful, still anchored in tenderness rather than hunger. His hand came to her waist, grounding her, reminding her she wasn’t floating anymore.
They moved together naturally, instinctively, the way people do when their bodies already know each other. Nothing rushed. Nothing desperate. Just closeness building into something warmer, heavier, intimate in a way that didn’t need explanation. Their passion and lust only grew every time they touched eachother. That burning sensation when he kissed her neck.. her breasts. Everything about this man was pure magic and she thank life for bringing him to her.
Later—when the room had settled back into quiet—Isabella lay against him, breathing evenly for the first time in what felt like years.
The world outside was bright now.
Daylight.
Danger still existed.
But her body no longer felt like it was bracing for impact.
She slept.
Not the shallow, exhausted sleep of someone running from fear—but deep, real rest. The kind that came when the heart finally stopped listening for footsteps in the dark.
Alessandro watched her for a long time.
Then he closed his eyes too.
For a few hours, at least, the war waited.