Page 27 of Isaia

Isaia gets up, grabs his jacket, and starts for the exit.

“Wait,” I call after him, not ready for this strange, charged interaction to be over. “I’m not done with you.”

He pauses, casting a lazy glance over his shoulder. “I have places to be, and a very uncomfortable suit to get out of.”

“We’re not done,” I snap, surprising even myself with the boldness.

He turns fully now, a flicker of amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Fine. One question.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you time for one question.”

My mind blanks. Of all the things I could ask him, my brain refuses to cooperate.

Isaia arches a brow, his amusement deepening. “I’ll see you around, Everly.”

“Wait. Why sunflowers?”

His expression shifts, mild confusion flickering across his face. “That’s your question?”

“Yes. Why sunflowers?”

Isaia steps closer, the distance between us evaporating with every inch he closes. The air thickens, my skin prickling with awareness as the heat between us rises.

His scent—wooden amber, black pepper, and vanilla—envelops me, pulling me deeper into the moment. It’s intoxicating, earthyand dark, the kind of smell that wraps around your thoughts and lingers long after he’s gone.

My pulse races, thudding in my chest, each beat amplifying the charged tension between us.

The room feels smaller, suffocating in the best possible way, my breath catching as he inches even nearer. His rich, chocolate gaze holds mine, and I’m hyperaware of everything—his proximity, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the unspoken pull between us.

His voice drops low—husky and smooth, the kind that slides under your skin as he murmurs, “Sunflowers are drawn to the light, Everly.”

His words ripple through me, sending a shiver down my spine. There’s something deeper in what he’s saying—something that feels more personal, like a quiet confession hiding behind it.

And in this moment, I can’t decide if I want to step away…or closer.

For a second, he lingers, neither of us moving. And I think he might close that final sliver of distance.

My heart races faster, every muscle in my body tense and ready, as if I’m teetering on the edge of something I shouldn’t want but can’t resist.

But he steps back, leaving me breathless and shaken.

“I’ll see you around, Everly.”

Chapter 9

ISAIA

I’m parked far enough from her house to stay unnoticed, but close enough to see everything. The faint glow spilling through her curtains is like a lure, pulling my gaze over and over to the silhouette moving behind them.

Everly.

The name alone tightens something low in my gut. She moves from room to room, soft shadows against golden light, completely unaware that she’s being watched.

By me.

Something isn’t right about her. Everything about her is too clean, too curated for the role she’s playing. Sweet, wide-eyed waitress?

---