CHAPTER 4:Nicolas pov

I tried to make sense of the situation before me, as I stared at the girl before me. She looked back at me with wide, uncertain eyes, her lips slightly parted like she was waiting for me to say something. For a moment, I couldn’t place her. Then, it hit me—Isabella Rizzo, she's my future wife.

Interesting.

I studied her, my gaze moving from her bare feet up to her legs, covered in a faded denim dress, and then to her flowery top, which seemed more appropriate for a teenager than a woman about to marry into my kind world. Her hair, long and wavy, cascaded down her shoulders, but it was the bangs she still wore that caught my attention. There was something almost... charming about them.

Beside me, Faro was clearly trying to stifle his laughter, but I wasn’t in the mood for amusement. Isabella had just called me “sir,” and it didn’t sit right with me at all.

She shifted uncomfortably, clearly feeling the heavy weight of my stare. When I didn’t move, she stiffened and finally met my gaze, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she murmured, but her voice was almost a brittle and hesitant, like she wasn’t even sure why she was apologizing in the first place.

I took a step forward, my gaze never leaving her. My voice was low but firm. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Faro bit his lip, clearly on the verge of laughter, but I wasn’t in the mood. I scanned her up and down once more, then spoke again, my tone sharper now with an edge. “What’s with the ‘sir,’ Isabella?”

Her blue eyes widened in surprise. “I—I don’t mean any offense, but I don’t think we should be alone like this. Especially not this close.”

Her words, soft yet firm, gave me pause.

Faro glanced at me, still struggling to hold back his laughter, but I stayed still, my expression unreadable; blank.

My eyes narrowed as I took a closer look at her again. I didn’t step back, but I tilted my head slightly. “You know who I am?”

Isabella lifted her chin, though her hands trembled at her sides; i could see her nerves cracking. “Yes. You’re the Underboss of Philadelphia. But my father rules me, not you.” She paused, then added with a hint of defiance, “Honor forbids me to be alone with any man I’m not married to.”

I chuckled darkly, though there was no humor in it. “That’s true.” I leaned in slightly, closing the distance between us. “But in less than four months, you’ll be my wife.”

She tipped her chin upward, trying to stand taller, though the nervousness in her hands betrayed her composure. “I—”

“You spied on us,” I interrupted, my voice calm but with an edge. “We had a conversation you shouldn’t have overheard.”

Isabella shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I wasn’t spying. I was in the library when you came in. You startled me.”

Faro burst into laughter, but I silenced him with a sharp glance. The last thing I wanted right now was more drama. My life was already a whirlwind—weeks of sleepless nights, running the business, managing my kids, carrying the weight of everything. I sighed, stepping back. “Faro, leave us. Give us a moment.”

Faro hesitated, but when he saw the look in my eyes, he quickly left, closing the door behind him.

Now it was just the two of us, and Isabella still stood frozen by the shelf, her body language tense. I leaned against the desk, arms crossed, but made sure to give her space.

“This is inappropriate,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

I studied her for a moment before responding. “I just want to have a quick word. Your parents will be here soon, and there won’t be time for this later.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving slightly as if already dismissing me. “My mother will do all the talking. She’s exhausting like that.”

A ghost of a smile flickered on my lips, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted by that. “That wasn’t meant for your ears.” I motioned toward the armchairs. “Come. Will you talk to me?”

Isabella hesitated, eyeing the chairs warily before finally sitting down. I followed suit, taking a seat across from her. She crossed her legs and absently smoothed her bangs, blushing when she realized I was watching.

“Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my mother about this,” she began quietly, her voice uncertain.

I frowned, a low growl escaping me. “Don’t call me ‘sir.’”

Isabella blinked, surprised by the force of my words. “What am I supposed to call you, then?”

My response was blunt. “Nicolas. I’ll be your husband soon.”

She took a shaky breath, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. “November.”

I nodded. “Yes. Once you turn eighteen.”

Her voice softened, almost questioning. “Does it make a difference? How do a few more months make me a viable wife when I’m not now?”

My expression hardened. “You’re too young either way, but I’ll feel more comfortable marrying you when you’re of age, officially.”

She pursed her lips, shaking her head. “I don’t understand how that matters.”

I leaned forward, my voice more serious now. “I have two small children who need taking care of. Daniele is almost three, and Simona will be ten months when we marry.”

Isabella’s face softened, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Can you show me photos?”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, showing her a picture from before Gaia’s death—Daniele holding his little sister in his arms. Isabella’s eyes softened as she looked at it, a smile tugging at her lips.

“They’re adorable. And how cute he’s holding her.” She paused, then became serious. “I’m sorry for your loss. I—”

I cut her off, my gaze darkening. “I don’t want to talk about my dead wife.”

She nodded quickly, looking away, clearly uncomfortable. The innocence in her expression caught me off guard. She didn’t look like someone ready to take on the responsibilities of my household. She looked like a girl—not yet hardened by the world—and that unsettled me more than anything.

Her fingers nervously tugged at a lock of hair, revealing a sunflower earring.

I couldn’t help but eye her attire again, my displeasure barely hidden. “Do you always dress like this?”

She glanced down at herself, then back up at me, a faint frown forming. “I like dresses.”

My lips twitched slightly. “I like dresses too, but I prefer elegant ones. Ones fitting for a woman. You’ll need to dress accordingly. If you give me your measurements, I’ll have someone buy you a new wardrobe.”

She didn’t answer, her silence speaking volumes.

“Understood?” I asked, my voice soft but commanding.

She blinked, then nodded.

“Good.” I stood up, my mind already shifting to the next matter. “There won’t be an official engagement celebration. I don’t have time for it, and I don’t want us to be seen together before you turn eighteen.”

Isabella’s voice softened, but the curiosity still lingered. “Will I meet your children before we marry? Or see your mansion?”

“No,” I replied firmly. “We won’t see each other until November. You’ll meet Daniele and Simona the day after our wedding.”

She frowned slightly, clearly perplexed. “Don’t you think it would be good if we got to know each other before we marry?”

My eyes sharpened. “I don’t see how that matters.”

Isabella looked down, fiddling with the hem of her dress. “Is there anything else you expect from me, except for a change in wardrobe?”

I hesitated, my gaze lingering on her. For a moment, I considered bringing up the pill, but the thought of addressing that with someone so young felt wrong. I wasn’t ready for that conversation.

“No. Now, you should leave before your parents realize we were alone.”

She stood, giving me one last look before turning to leave without a word.

When she was gone, Faro reentered the room, raising an eyebrow. “What did you say to her? She looked like she was going to cry.”

I frowned deeper. “Nothing.”

Faro didn’t believe me, but he didn’t press it. “If you say so.”