"Good to know."
She goes in and closes the door, and I hear the lock click with a finality that feels like a barrier between us—one I should be grateful for but somehow resent.
I storm downstairs before I do something stupid like stand outside that bathroom door and listen to her move around in my space, before I imagine her taking off that dress and stepping into my shower.
The kitchen is dark but I don't turn on lights, just pull out my phone to see three missed calls from Matteo glowing on the screen.
I call him back immediately hoping for good news.
He answers on the first ring. "Status."
"At the cabin. Secure. No tail."
"Good." I can hear background noise on his end—voices talking over each other, the chaos of him still dealing with the aftermath at the Plaza. "You're staying there."
"How long?"
"Few days. Maybe more. Depends on what the O'Rourkes do next."
Well, fuck, I don’t know why I was hoping the answer would be different.
"Can Rafe rotate in? Give me a break so I can help with?—"
"No."
"Matteo—"
"When it comes to Isabella, I want you." His voice is firm and final in a way that leaves no room for argument. "You saved her life once, nearly died doing it. I trust you with her more than anyone and I’m sure she trusts you more than anyone. This is my sister we’re talking about, Enzo. It's not up for discussion."
My hand tightens on the phone hard enough that the case creaks under the pressure. "Understood."
"Keep her safe, please. That's all that matters."
"You can trust me."
"Good. I'll check in tomorrow."
He hangs up and I stand there in the dark staring at my screen, processing what he just sentenced me to.
A few days. Maybe more. Alone in this cabin with Isabella Romano.
The universe is testing me, pushing me to see exactly how much self-control I have, and I'm not sure I'm going to pass.
Upstairs, water runs through the pipes, the shower turning on, and I hear the groan of old plumbing before everything goes quiet.
I wait, giving her time and checking the perimeter on my phone. All sensors show green. We're alone out here, miles from anyone.
Five minutes pass. Then ten.
No sound from upstairs.
After fifteen minutes I check my watch and at twenty I hear it—a small sound, frustrated and defeated.
What the fuck is going on?
I'm up the stairs before I decide to move, stopping outside my room, the door of which is cracked open and light spills into the hallway.
I knock once. "Isabella."
