"I am. You'll see."
We say our goodbyes and I hang up just as the car pulls through the gate and drives toward the plane.
That's when I see him.
Vittorio.
Standing near the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, waiting.
"What is he doing here?" I snap
The guards exchange glances but don't answer. The car stops, they get out immediately, tense and alert, and one of them opens my door.
I step out and Vittorio is already moving toward me, his expression determined.
Do I have to go through this now.
"Isabella," he says. "We need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about." I try to move past him toward the plane. "I need to go."
He steps sideways, blocking my path. "Five minutes. Just give me five minutes."
"No."
"Please." His voice drops, becomes almost pleading. "Just hear me out."
"Vittorio, move."
"You're making a mistake." He's not moving, just standing there between me and the stairs. "This whole situation, calling off the wedding, running away—it's all a mistake and you know it."
"The only mistake I made was agreeing to marry you in the first place."
His face darkens. "You don't mean that."
"I absolutely mean that." I try to go around him and he shifts again, staying in my way. "Move, Vittorio. I'm not doing this with you."
"You think he loves you?" His voice rises slightly. "Bianchi? You think he's going to come after you? He's gone, Isabella. He left. He didn't fight for you. He just walked away."
"That's not?—"
"It is true. He let Matteo kick him out without a fight. He didn't argue, didn't refuse, just left you here and disappeared." Vittorio takes a step closer. "But I'm still here. I'm still willing to make this work. Marry me and I’ll speak with my father. Come back with me right now. We can fix this alliance, we can?—"
"No." I shake my head and back away. "No. And I'm not marrying someone I don't love just to fix an alliance thatshouldn't have existed in the first place. This was all a mistake from the beginning."
"You're being childish. Selfish." His voice hardens. "Your family needs this. Your brother needs this. And you're throwing it all away for a man who doesn't even want you enough to stay."
"Get out of my way."
I try to push past him, his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, his grip tight enough to hurt.
"Let go of me," I say quietly, dangerously.
"Not until you listen?—"
"Let go of me right now or I will scream for the guards and they will remove you forcibly."
His grip tightens instead of loosening and his face is close to mine now, angry and frustrated.
