CH 24

I gave her a lot of space. She said she was busy and I let her rest. She said she had 'work' and I let her be. She said she needed to breathe and I let her. At this point she was avoiding me and I knew it.

 

Apology would have gone a lone way but I needed to see her face in and tell her everything.

 

It was starting to feel off in a way that gnawed at me. 

Two full days now. 

Not once had Isabella stepped foot in my office. 

Not once had she answered a message. Not once had she even looked in my direction when I passed her floor. 

It was like she'd built a wall overnight - and I was on the wrong side of it.

 

I kept asking myself the same questions, over and over, like a man trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. 

What did I do? 

Was it the way I left her place that night - bruised, bleeding, refusing to give her answers? 

Was it something I said? Or was she just... done with me?

 

I'd sent Aisha. Sent messages through reception. Even had one of the assistants knock on her door. 

Every time the answer came back the same: 

"She's in there, sir. But she said she's busy." 

Busy. 

Right. Not like I don't see her. I watch everything she does.

 

I sank into one of the guest chairs in my own office - the soft leather one nobody ever sits in unless I tell them to. Legs stretched out. Hands clasped behind my head. Staring at the ceiling like it owed me answers.

 

I caught myself tapping my foot against the floor. 

Then biting the inside of my lip. 

Nervous habits I thought I'd killed off years ago. 

 

How the hell did one woman turn me into this? Worrying over her like a lovesick bastard puppy.

 

When I call women, they come running. 

They drop everything. 

They smile too wide. Laugh too loud. Touch my arm like it means something. 

But Isabella? She ignores me. Ignores my calls. 

Ignores the fact that I told her we'd talk the next day. 

 

Was this rebellion? 

Was she trying to punish me? 

Because if it was - fuck - it was working.

 

I glanced at my phone again. 

Blank screen. 

No notifications from her.

My chest felt tight. Heavy. Like something was sitting on it.

 

Was this about Valentina? 

That damn scene at the restaurant - her screaming, calling Bell names, playing the victim in front of everyone. Yeah, I heard about it. Apparently some Val decided to send someone video and send to her so she could send back to me.

 

What was she expecting? That I would cheer her for humiliating tye woman I love and care about?

 

Bell had looked so small when she walked out. Shoulders hunched. Face pale. 

I should've followed her. Should've explained right then. 

"She's not my wife. Never was. We fucked once. She got pregnant. I kept the kid. That's it. There's no marriage. No happy family. Just a custody agreement and twelve years of headaches."

 

But I didn't. 

I let her leave thinking the worst. I let her carry the embarrassment 

 

Or maybe it wasn't Val. 

Maybe it was Lucian. 

The way she froze when she heard his name on the phone. The way her eyes changed - like she'd just realized I came with baggage she didn't want to carry. 

I get it. 

She's twenty-four. She doesn't want to be anyone's stepmom. 

She doesn't want to be tied to a man who already has a kid with someone else.

 

But I don't want her to be a stepmom. 

I just want her to be mine. All of her. Even if it means keeping Lucian separate forever. I'd do it. For her.

 

The office phone rang.

 

I grabbed it fast - hoping, stupidly, it was her.

 

"Mr. Rossi, the 1 p.m. meeting is ready in the conference room."

 

I exhaled. 

"Right. I'm coming."

 

I stood. Straightened my tie. 

Tried to look like the man who owned the building instead of the man losing his mind over a twenty-four-year-old who wouldn't answer his texts.

 

I haven't felt like this since high school and college. Was this love again. I thought I had grown past this stage.

 

The meeting dragged. Numbers. Projections. Shipping costs. Bulk orders. I nodded. Made notes. Corrected slides. Approved budgets. 

All while my brain screamed her name.

 

When it finally ended I shook hands. Smiled. Thanked everyone. 

Then walked straight back to my office and pulled up the camera feed again.

 

There she was. Sitting at her desk. 

Hair high in a messy ponytail. Green dress. Watching something intensively on her phone that she brought it so close to her face.

 

I watched her scroll her phone. She seem like she was on a mission. Like she was doing something important.

 

My throat felt tight.

 

I needed to see her. Needed to touch her. 

Needed to hear her voice - even if it was angry. Even if it was telling me to leave.

 

I closed the feed. Grabbed my keys.

 

I was going to her place. Right now. Pride be damned. We should settle this in her home in privacy. I could ask her to come to my place but deep down I knew she wouldn't follow me. Not even if I kidnap her 

 

I drove too fast. Parked crooked. Took the stairs two at a time. The elevator was annoyingly crowded 

 

Her door was locked.

 

I pulled out the spare key I'd never told her I had. 

Slid it in. Turned.

 

The apartment was dark. Quiet. 

I stepped inside. Closed the door softly behind me.

 

She wasn't home. I knew, I just wanted to feel her presence and waited for us to settle things.

 

I checked the bedroom. Bathroom. Kitchen. 

Nothing different. I felt like an inspector and a lovesick stalker walking like this in her empty day apartment.

 

Panic crawled up my spine. 

She hadn't come back from work .Wasn't answering calls. 

Wasn't here. I think I waited for a long time .

 

Where the hell was she?

 

I sank onto her couch. Head in my hands and waited. Could be the mind of a patient man or the mind of a man in love.

 

Because if she walked through that door angry - or drunk - or hurt - 

I'd still be here. Still trying to fix whatever I broke.

 

Because she was mine. 

Even if she didn't know it yet.