04. Rebound?

ISABELLE. 

I didn’t cry all night because Roman stayed with me. 

In my entire life, I had cried in front of other people three times.

The first was when Mom died. Dad had let me break the rule that day.

The second was a week after Roman became my stepbrother.

Believe it or not, twenty-one-year-old Roman had been mean. A bully and nothing short of terror.

Papa punished me for that. Crying was a sign of weakness and, by extension, a sign that he had a weak child. 

The third time was the day my entire world fell apart.

I pushed the memory away. I didn’t want to go there.

To distract myself, I moved my eyes to Roman. He was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling gently. 

With his eyes closed, I stared at him shamelessly. 

He hadn’t changed much. He still had the same face that was carved like a Greek god. Paired with lashes too long to belong to a man. 

Had his cheekbones always been that high? My eyes trailed to his Adam’s apple, then to his chest. 

When had he gotten this broad? A tattoo peeked through the open buttons of his shirt.

That was new.

I leaned closer, trying to make out the design.

He stirred.

The arm around me tightened until my face was pressed against his chest.

“Princess, isn’t it too soon for a rebound?” 

His voice was rough with sleep.

My God.

I felt it against my cheek and somewhere much lower.

Heat rushed into my ears.

I squirmed.

He shifted against the pillows, taking me with him.

“I suppose I could let you use me. Just this once.”

My heart was going to give out now. I could feel it from the way it was pounding so hard against my chest. 

Then a memory flashed through my mind.

We had been like this before. Only there hadn’t been another man breaking my heart.

For a moment, I remembered how it felt to want nothing beyond the room we were in.

Then another memory followed.

And I went still.

I pushed against Roman’s chest until he released me, then scrambled out of bed.

Fuck.

What was I thinking? Why did I come here? Why had I asked him to stay?

The last time we were like this…

“Che c’è, piccola?”

Roman sat up, his voice softer now. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

How could I have allowed this to happen? 

I shook my head and stepped back, even with the bed between us. 

“This was a mistake,” I managed to say. My voice was dry. Barely clear.

I cut him off before he could say anything. “I’m leaving.”

Then more firmly, “I’m going home.” 

“To him?” He got out of bed. “I’m not letting you go back there. We had an agreement, Princess.” 

For a few seconds, my mind went blank. That’s true. There was that damned agreement. 

The reason why Roman had been watching William. Why he waited for anything that would prove I had chosen wrong.

I squared my shoulders. “The agreement is not broken yet. Not until I speak to him.” 

Roman scoffed and pushed his hair back from his forehead. 

“Stop being ridiculous. What other proof do you need?” 

The way he said it. The way he was looking at me. 

It was almost as though he had seen exactly what I saw at that party. Or heard everything I heard. 

“We are still married,” I reminded him. “Legally.” 

Roman exhaled. 

“Fine. Speak to him, but I’m coming with you.” 

“No.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’ll decide what happens after I hear what he has to say.”

Regardless of what William had to say, the important thing was for me to leave here. 

Being here was more dangerous than whatever lies William had waiting for me. 

“That was not the agreement,” Roman argued. 

He wasn’t trying to hide his anger now. That glare and the way his jaw was locked. 

“I still have your number. I will let you know what I decide on.” 

He looked at me like I had said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“Could have fooled me.”

Yeah, the number was sitting in my blacklist, but one tap could fix that.

Despite my refusal, he insisted on dropping me. I gave in

Right now, all that mattered was putting some distance between Romano Valenti and me.

I made him stop at the gate and walked the rest of the way, my heart pounding with every step.

Maybe William wasn’t home.

Maybe he was still with Chloe, celebrating their engagement.

When I opened the door, I was proven very wrong again. 

Third time in two days, if anyone was keeping count.

William paced the living room with his phone in his hand. His hair was messy, his clothes rumpled as though he had slept in them.

He stopped when he saw me. His eyes swept over me before returning to my face.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then I understood what frightened me most. It wasn’t the lies he might tell.

It was how badly I wanted to believe them.

A part of me hoped that there was an explanation that could explain away what happened yesterday. 

“Isabelle.”

He said my name gently, almost carefully.

Then he crossed the room and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Fuck. I was so scared.”

I pressed my hands against his chest. He loosened his hold, then let go.

“Babe, I didn’t know you were coming. I would have given you a heads-up.”

I stepped back.

“A heads-up that my husband was going to be proposing to another woman?” 

He shook his head. “Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Isabelle, it was something we had to do for the Valenti Project. That’s why Sandra was there. Most of the guests were business partners and government officials.” 

‘It’s a lie.’ I reminded myself. 

But he looked at me with those pleading brown eyes, and I hated how much I wanted to hear him out.

“A project required you to get engaged to Chloe? Since when have you even been working with her?

He moved closer.

“We’re getting funding from the Ashfords. Sandra and the team thought presenting us as engaged would strengthen the bid.”

I stared at him.

“Presenting you as engaged?”

“It shows we’re committed to the partnership. That the families are united and the funding won’t disappear halfway through construction.”

A partnership.

That was what he was calling it.

“Were their comments part of the plan, too? That I seduced you? That I’m nothing more than a vase?”

“Fuck.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “How long were you standing there?”

I said nothing.

He sighed.

“It was idle chatter. I was trying to keep my temper. If I’d started defending you, I would have blown the whole thing.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it again.

I could almost hear him making that argument with himself. William hated losing control in front of people.

But he had let them laugh at me.

“You said all you needed was a good design,” I said, rubbing my temples.

“A good design and proof we can fund the project. There are other business considerations you wouldn’t understand.”

Usually, I would have let that pass.

I had never taken much interest in his projects. Today, it sounded too much like the people who had called me a vase.

“Then explain them.”

He did.

Funding guarantees. The strength of the partnership. The other companies competing for the contract.

I tried to follow him.

I mean, I wanted to understand. But for a project? He proposed to another woman for a project?

How did that make any sense?

“And my ring?”

William stopped talking.

“Was that my ring you gave Chloe?”

He looked away. 

I watched him, waiting for the denial. For him to tell me that I had misunderstood that, too. 

His eyes stayed on the floor, but he forced the word out. “Yes.” 

I rubbed at my bare finger. 

It was just one word, so why did it feel like air was ripped out of lungs?