Her eyes flicked up to mine. "Then what do you want from me?"
I reached out and brushed a strand of her hair from her face. "I want you to stop running from me."
She whispered in a shaking voice.
"I don't know who to trust anymore."
I hold her gaze, steady and calm. "Then trust me until you can't."
Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she might speak, but instead, she exhaled and dropped the file on the desk. The sound was sharp, echoing between us.
"You expect me to believe you after all this?"
"I don't expect anything," I said. "But I'll keep proving it until you do."
Her eyes narrowed. "And what if I never do?"
"Then I'll protect you," I say. "Because that's what I do, Isabella."
She stared at me for a long moment, and her hands trembled, then she wiped her face and whispered, almost too soft to hear, "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not," I murmur. "It's war."
For a second, the silence felt like a heartbeat between us.
Her eyes flickered to the window, then back to me. "You're dangerous, Mikhail."
I tilted my head, and a faint smile ghosted my lips. "You're only just realizing that?"
She shook her head slowly, and a sad smile curved her lips. "I think I always knew."
We stood there, the distance between us as thin as breath. The files lay open on the desk, proof that everything is broken. But neither of us moved.
Then, without a word, she placed another file on the desk. It was thinner than the other one. My breath stilled when I saw the label.
ISABELLA MORETTI.
Her voice trembled, but her eyes burned. "And this?" She asked. "How long have you been watching me, Mikhail?"
I stayed still, not pretending and not denying. "Since before all this began," I said. "Before Giovanni, and before your father's betrayal. Before any of it."
Her throat tightened. "What do you mean by that?"
I took a breath. “From the first night I saw you over a year ago. Before I even knew who you were.”
Her eyes widened. "You followed me?"
I shook my head slowly. "No, I kept tabs on you."
She gave a sharp and bitter laugh. "That's supposed to sound better?"
She stared back at me, both of us lost for words. The silence hummed between us again, not just tension this time, but something deeper. Something that felt like truth stripped bare.
Her breath faltered. "You're a bastard."
"I know."
And then, as if the tension finally snapped, she gripped my shirt and pulled me in.
