"It's like a painting," she says in awe.
"Capri has that effect." I stand close enough to catch her perfume mingling with the salt air. "There's a reason emperors built palaces here."
We wander into the Piazzetta, the island's central square, where I direct her toward a jewelry shop tucked between cafés.
"For your bride?" he asks in Italian, eyeing Isabella appraisingly.
"Only your finest," I reply.
Isabella's guard rises. "Alessandro, this isn't necessary?—"
"Humor me." I meet her eyes steadily. "Consider it a peace offering."
Her expression only grows more wary.
The jeweler presents several pieces, but one catches my attention, a delicate gold bracelet with sapphires the exact color of the Mediterranean we'd just crossed. When Isabella's fingers hover over it, I know she appreciates its beauty as well.
"This one," I tell the jeweler, watching Isabella's face.
"It's beautiful, but..." she hesitates.
"No buts." I take the bracelet and clasp it around her wrist. "A reminder of our first day here… Our first day as husband and wife.”
Her eyes study mine, and it’s all I can do not to shift from the discomfort of feeling like she’s looking into my soul.
"Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” For a dangerous moment, I forget everything except how spectacularly beautiful she is. She belongs in this place that’s full of vibrancy and life.
Later in the afternoon, we settle into our villa, taking a short rest before changing for dinner. She’s wearing a sleek black dress that hugs her curves, her hair swept up to expose the elegant line of her neck.
She looks breathtaking.
And completely unreachable.
Despite my peace offering, despite the day exploring Capri together, she maintains a careful distance. Her words are polite but measured, her smiles never reaching her eyes unless it’s a natural marvel from the island. Every attempt at conversation is met with the same cool detachment.
"The reservations are for eight," I say, checking my watch. "The restaurant has the best view on the island."
"I'm sure it's lovely." Her voice is flat, disinterested.
Frustration bubbles inside me. I've tried the gentlemanly approach, showing her the island's beauty, buying her gifts, yet she continues to ice me out.
Then again, what did I expect? That one magical island and an expensive bracelet would make her forget how I treated her? On any other woman, it would have worked. But Isabella isn’t any other woman. She’s shrewd and she knows her worth, knows I disrespected her and therefore, I have lost her respect.
I move closer, leaning against the balustrade beside her. "You're still angry."
"I'm not angry, Alessandro." She doesn't look at me. "I'm realistic. You made it clear what this marriage is. I'm adapting."
“What this marriage is? I’ve been a gentleman doting on his wife all day.”
Now she turns, skepticism written across her features. "You’re just trying to manipulate me."
She’s not wrong, and yet, I’m surprised she’s seen through me.
Even so, standing here gazing down into her defiant eyes, I can't remember why keeping her at arm's length seemed so crucial.
"Maybe I am," I admit. "Or maybe I'm trying to figure this out as much as you are."
