Chapter Seven: The Kiss They Couldn't Forget

Isabella knew something was wrong the moment Alessandro's driver arrived at her apartment.

She had barely finished preparing dinner when the doorbell rang. Leonardo was sitting on the living room carpet, arranging his toy cars into neat rows, completely absorbed in his little world.

"Mommy, someone is here."

"I heard, sweetheart."

She opened the door and found a man dressed in a black suit standing outside.

"Miss Moretti, Mr. Romano requests your presence at the estate."

Isabella's expression immediately changed.

"Tonight?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She glanced at the clock.

"Tell him I have a child to look after."

The driver hesitated.

"Mr. Romano has already arranged for a trusted caretaker to stay with Leonardo."

Her heart sank.

Alessandro had not merely invited her.

He had anticipated her refusal.

After arranging for Leonardo to stay with Lucia, Isabella reluctantly followed the driver.

The Romano estate looked different at night.

The enormous windows reflected the moonlight, while the garden lamps illuminated the pathways leading toward the mansion. Isabella remembered the last time she had entered those gates, the fear that had accompanied her, and the terrible morning she had spent trying to escape.

Three years later, she was returning voluntarily, although she could hardly describe her decision as voluntary.

Alessandro was waiting inside the library.

He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his usual intimidating expression seemed unusually subdued.

"You're late," he remarked.

"I wasn't aware this was a romantic dinner invitation."

His mouth curved slightly.

"Would you have come earlier if it were?"

Isabella immediately regretted answering the door.

"Why did you summon me?"

Alessandro gestured toward the table.

"Because I wanted to speak to you without interruptions."

She glanced at the two glasses of wine.

"I don't drink."

"I remembered."

He pushed a glass of sparkling water toward her.

The small gesture surprised her.

She sat down reluctantly.

For several minutes, they discussed nothing particularly important. Alessandro asked about Leonardo's health, and Isabella explained that her son was recovering.

Then the conversation shifted.

"Why did you leave Italy three years ago?" Alessandro asked.

Isabella looked down at her glass.

"I needed to."

"Because of me?"

She remained silent.

Alessandro leaned forward.

"Isabella, I have spent three years searching for answers. I don't understand why you think you can continue avoiding my questions."

"Because some answers are more complicated than you imagine."

"Then explain them."

She looked at him.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Isabella laughed bitterly.

"You think everything can be solved by ordering people around, don't you?"

"Usually."

"Well, this cannot."

Alessandro studied her face.

For the first time, she noticed something unfamiliar in his expression.

Not anger.

Not suspicion.

Loneliness.

"You have no idea what that night did to me," he admitted quietly.

Isabella's fingers tightened around the glass.

"Neither do you."

Their eyes met.

Something in the silence changed.

Alessandro stood and walked toward the windows.

"I remember waking up that morning and finding you gone. I didn't even know your name properly. I thought you had deliberately disappeared to humiliate me."

Isabella followed him with her gaze.

"I was frightened."

He turned.

"Of me?"

"Of everything."

His expression softened.

"Isabella, I would never have hurt you."

She looked away.

"I know that now."

He stepped closer.

"Then why are you still afraid of me?"

She had no answer.

The distance between them had become painfully small.

She could smell his cologne, see the faint tiredness beneath his eyes, and remember the face she had spent three years trying not to think about.

Alessandro lifted his hand, hesitating before gently brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

Isabella looked at him.

She should have stepped backward.

She should have reminded him that she had a child, that their lives were complicated, and that everything between them remained unresolved.

Instead, she whispered, "I don't want you to."

His expression changed.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Alessandro leaned closer, giving her time to change her mind.

She didn't.

Their lips met in a gentle, hesitant kiss that carried three years of unanswered questions.

Isabella's eyes closed.

She had imagined this moment more times than she wanted to admit, sometimes wondering whether the man she remembered could ever be anything other than a distant, frightening figure from her past.

Now she understood that her feelings had never completely disappeared.

Alessandro pulled away slightly, searching her face.

"Isabella."

She placed her hand against his chest.

"Please don't ask me anything right now."

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then he kissed her again.

This time, she responded without hesitation, her fingers tightening around his shirt as if she had been waiting for permission to stop pretending she felt nothing.

When they finally separated, neither seemed willing to move.

Alessandro rested his forehead briefly against hers.

"I have wanted to do that since the moment you walked into my office."

Isabella's heart raced.

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't know whether you wanted it."

She smiled faintly.

"I wanted it long before you did."

His expression softened in a way she had never witnessed.

For a few precious moments, the Mafia boss disappeared, leaving behind a man who seemed just as uncertain as she was.

Then Isabella's phone rang.

She glanced at the screen.

Lucia.

She answered immediately.

"Is everything alright?"

Lucia's voice sounded strangely nervous.

"Isabella, you need to come home."

Her stomach tightened.

"What happened?"

"Leonardo is asking for you."

Isabella turned toward Alessandro.

The tenderness between them suddenly became complicated.

She had almost forgotten the secret waiting between them.

And Alessandro, watching her face change, understood that whatever existed between them was only the beginning of a much larger story.

"Isabella," he said quietly.

She looked at him.

"Yes?"

His eyes held hers.

"Whatever you're hiding, I won't let anyone hurt you or your so

n."

She wanted to believe him.

More than anything, she wanted to believe him.

But as she left the estate that night, one thought followed her all the way home.

What would Alessandro do when he discovered that the little boy he was protecting was his own son?