Page 15 of Isaia

“What?” I ask, turning to follow her gaze, but my heart slams into my ribs the second I spot him.

All the air gets sucked out of the room, my pulse roaring in my ears. There he is—my serious stranger who doesn’t smile, standing by the door, the world shrinking down to only him.

“Isaia,” I murmur barely above a whisper, my stomach flipping like I’m on the edge of a freefall.

Molly’s hand shoots out, grabbing my arm, and she nearly pulls me over the counter.

“That’stheIsaia? The guy from last night?” she hisses, eyes wide.

I nod, unable to tear my gaze away. He looks even more dangerous in the daylight—dark hair swept back effortlessly, framing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass.

My hands grip the counter as if anchoring myself because every instinct screams to run—but not away. Toward him.

He’s wearing black jeans that cling to his lean frame, a leather jacket slung over a plain white T-shirt that fits a little too well. There’s something about the way he wears it, casual yet commanding, like he doesn’t need to try.

Everything about him screams control—intense, effortless, and sexy as hell.

But there’s something else.

Watching him move, I notice how the room seems to shift around him. The subtle way conversations lower, the quick glances people exchange. It’s like everyone is aware of him, like they’re holding their breath.

Even the barista, usually a chatterbox, seems to freeze for a moment before carefully turning her back to the counter.

It's not just his good looks or brooding demeanor—there’s somethingdangerousabout him, something that sets people on edge.

There’s a lethal stillness in the way he holds himself, a control that feels like it could snap at any moment. And the way peopleinstinctively move out of his way, like they know what he’s capable of, sends a chill down my spine.

His eyes, almost black, lock on to mine, and it's not just the intensity that strikes me—it’s the way they seem to see everything, every detail. Like he’s calculating, always one step ahead.

My skin prickles, heat crawling up my neck. I’m caught in his crosshairs, and the air between us thickens, charged with a tension that’s impossible to ignore.

“What’s happening right now?” I ask, trying to steady my breathing, but my heart pounds harder, my chest tightening as though it’s in sync with the intensity radiating off him.

“Jesus Christ,” Molly curses under her breath. “You need to stay away from him.”

I blink, breaking from the trance he’s pulling me into. “What? Why?”

Molly glances at him again, then back at me, her grip tightening. “Because that man,” she whispers with urgency, “is Isaia Del Rossa.”

Chapter 5

EVERLY

Isaia Del Rossa.

The name lingers in the air like a warning, and judging by the look on Molly’s face, this is someone I should be running from. Yet here I am, frozen in place.

His approach is slow, deliberate—every step controlled, as if the entire room bends to his will. People shift out of his way without even realizing it.

And then his dark gaze locks on to mine. I can’t help but feel like I’ve been marked, chosen, and claimed. His focus is so intense, the rest of the world fades away.

“Shit,” Molly hisses again, yanking on my elbow harder this time. “I’m serious, Everly, stay away from him. He’s?—“

Her words die on her lips as he comes closer, and every ounce of oxygen in the room seems to vanish.

My heart hammers in my chest, each beat louder than the last. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and the energy radiating off himis suffocating, a dangerous magnetism that pulls me in even though every logical part of me wants to run the other way.

Last night, I knew my stranger who doesn’t smile was intense. But now? This man walking toward me, his intensity is on an entirely different level.

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