CHAPTER SEVENTEEN : THE MAN WHO MADE HER LAUGH.

Alessandro stepped out of the car, his eyes fixed on the man sitting beside his wife.

He adjusted his jacket and walked towards them.

"Isabella."

She turned at the sound of his voice.

Her smile immediately softened.

"Alessandro?"

He stopped beside her, barely acknowledging the other man.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable."

Isabella stood.

"You're back already?"

"I finished my meeting earlier than expected."

Daniel rose too.

"Hello. I'm Daniel."

Alessandro looked at him.

"Alessandro Moretti."

Daniel's expression changed slightly. He knew the name. Everyone in Milan knew the name.

"It's nice to meet you, sir."

Alessandro gave a brief nod.

"How do you know my wife?"

"We went to high school together. We haven't seen each other in years."

"Is that so?"

Daniel glanced at Isabella.

"It was lovely seeing you again, Isabella. Perhaps we can catch up properly sometime."

Before she could respond, Alessandro spoke.

"Perhaps."

There was something in his tone that made Daniel reconsider.

"Well, I should get going. Take care, Isabella."

"You too, Daniel."

He gave her a final smile before walking away.

Alessandro watched until the man disappeared into the crowd.

Then he turned to his wife.

"Who was he?"

"I just told you. We went to school together."

"And you seem very happy to see him."

Isabella looked at him.

"Of course. He's an old friend."

Alessandro glanced at the empty bench.

"You were laughing quite freely."

She frowned.

"Is that a problem?"

"No."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

He said nothing for a moment.

He got closer to her, Held her chin up and kissed her lips with a fury. Finally, he asked, "Have you ever laughed like that with me?"

Isabella blinked, a little flustered. 

"What?"

"You were laughing as though nothing in the world could trouble you. I've never seen you like that with me."

She lowered her eyes.

Alessandro stepped closer.

"Am I not good enough, Isabella? Or are you simply afraid of me?"

The question caught her off guard.

She looked up, then quickly looked away.

"I'm still afraid of you."

His expression changed.

"Afraid of me?"

She nodded.

"Sometimes."

He took a step back, as though her answer had physically struck him.

"Why?"

"Because you're Alessandro Moretti."

"That's my name."

"You're the man everyone fears. You give orders, and people obey. You can walk into a room and make everyone silent without saying much. Sometimes I don't know what you're thinking, and I worry about saying the wrong thing."

He watched her quietly.

"But you're my husband," she continued. "And you're more than good enough. I know that."

"Then why can't you laugh with me like that?"

She struggled to find the right words.

"Maybe because I'm still learning how to be comfortable around you."

For several seconds, Alessandro didn't speak.

He had expected jealousy to make him angry. Instead, her honesty left him with something he wasn't accustomed to feeling.

Regret.

He had spent so much time protecting her from other people that he hadn't considered how much his own presence could intimidate her.

"Come here," he said softly.

Isabella hesitated.

He noticed.

"Only if you want to."

She slowly stepped closer.

He reached for her hand.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me, Isabella."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do. I want you to feel comfortable enough to laugh, argue, disagree with me and tell me when I'm being unreasonable."

A small smile touched her lips.

"That last part might be difficult."

"Why?"

"Because you can be very unreasonable."

He stared at her for a second before laughing.

"Is that so?"

She nodded.

"Very."

He shook his head, smiling.

Then he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

"Perhaps I should work on that."

---

Alessandro was about to lead her towards the car when he noticed something.

Her eyes were slightly swollen.

He looked more closely.

"Isabella?"

"Yes?"

"Have you been crying?"

She immediately looked away.

"No."

He gently lifted her chin.

"Don't lie to me."

Her lips trembled.

"It's nothing."

"Sweetheart, look at me."

She finally met his eyes.

"What happened?"

For a moment, she said nothing. Then she took a shaky breath.

"I went into a boutique to buy some dresses. The saleswomen were rude to me. They said I couldn't afford their clothes and told me to go somewhere else."

Alessandro's expression darkened.

"What?"

"I tried to pay with the card you gave me, but it was declined. They laughed at me and accused me of using a fake card. They even threatened to call the police."

He stared at her.

"They did what?"

"They wouldn't let me explain. They told security to remove me. I was so embarrassed, Alessandro."

She looked down at the black card in her hand.

"I thought perhaps you'd be angry that I used it."

Alessandro took the card from her.

"Why would I be angry?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe there was a limit or something."

He looked at the card, then back at her.

"Isabella, I gave you this card because I wanted you to use it. You never have to feel guilty about spending money on yourself."

She nodded.

His thumb brushed beneath her eye.

"And those women had no right to humiliate you."

He leaned closer and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Did you come here alone?"

" I wanted to shop by myself."

Alessandro exhaled slowly.

"Next time, go with a guard or two wherever you're going. I won't stop you from having your independence, but I need to know you're safe."

She nodded.

He opened the car door for her.

"Come on. We're going back."

Isabella looked at him nervously.

"Back where?"

"To the boutique."

Her eyes widened.

"Alessandro, please. I don't want to see those women again."

He held her gaze.

"You're not going back to beg them to serve you. You're going back because they owe you an apology."

He helped her into the car and climbed in beside her.

Then he turned to Marco.

"Find out why my wife's card was declined. And have the manager of that boutique waiting when we arrive."

Marco nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Alessandro looked at Isabella, who was quietly staring out of the window.

He took her hand.

"One more thing, sweetheart."

She turned.

"What's that?"

"Next time you meet an old friend, you can laugh as much as you want."

She smiled faintly.

"Even if it's a man?"

His eyes narrowed playfully.

"Let's not test the limits of my generosity."

For the first time that afternoon, Isabella laughed again.

And Alessandro decided he wanted to be the reason for that laughter, not the reason she held it back.