Page 97 of Isaia

I think about how his eyes swept over me at the café, the faint curve of his lips when he told me to be ready. The way his voice dipped when he said, “Wear the dress.” Something about him makes me want to step up, match his intensity, meet his gaze and hold it—not as someone intimidated, but as someone equal to it.

I glance at the clock as I slip into the dress, the soft fabric molding to my skin. The plunging neckline feels daring, the slit teasing with every movement—the dress feels like armor, like something that’s more than just clothing—it’s a statement. One that says I belong here. That I’m not afraid to stand at his side, no matter what world he’s pulling me into.

With a final touch of perfume and a pair of heels that make my legs look longer than they are, I take one last look in the mirror.

My nerves buzz beneath the surface, my stomach flipping, but there’s also something else—an unfamiliar confidence rising, one that feels like it’s been waiting to be found.

I turn to Luna, sprawled out on her bed, lazily wagging her tail without lifting her head.

“Well, what do you think?” I ask, twirling for her.

She lets out a soft huff, her droopy eyes barely acknowledging me before she rests her head back down with all the enthusiasm of a creature utterly unimpressed.

I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. “You’re no help.”

At precisely seven, Isaia’s yellow Ferrari purrs to a stop outside my house, the sound vibrating through the stillness of the evening. My heart stutters as I open the door and step outside.

The cool evening air against my skin does nothing to ease the heat already moving through me.

I smooth my hands over the soft fabric of the dress, my nerves dancing, but when my eyes land on him, every coherent thought dissolves.

Leaning against the Ferrari like it’s a throne, Isaia’s wearing an all-black suit draped over him with the kind of precision that looks effortless but screams power.

The jacket hugs his broad shoulders, the cut of his shirt teasing the hint of a muscled chest beneath. His dark hair is perfectly tousled, and those piercing brown eyes find me instantly with a magnetic intensity, leaving me rooted to the spot. He’s not just beautiful and hot and gorgeous—he looks like a warning wrapped in temptation, danger personified.

Sinful. Seductive. Completely untouchable.

And he’s here. Waiting for me.

His lips twitch slightly as he takes me in, head to toe. His eyes burn a slow, deliberate path over me, lingering just a moment too long on the plunging neckline, the curve of my hips, and the slit in the dress that reveals more leg than I’m used to showing.

When his gaze snaps back to mine, it’s like a physical caress, the heat in it making my skin flush. “Has anyone ever told you just how beautiful you are?”

I swallow hard, my skin tingling with awareness. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” I smile.

The way his eyes burn into me as his tall frame closes the space between us has me holding my breath, every inch of my skin prickling with awareness. It’s not just a glance—it’s acaress, like he’s peeling away every layer of fabric, every shred of composure, leaving me utterly bare and exposed just for him.

He stops a mere breath away, then drops to one knee in front of me, the movement smooth, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I blink, glancing down, realizing the strap of my heel has come loose. Before I can utter a word, his hands are on me—warm, steady, and impossibly sure.

One hand wraps around my ankle, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin just above the strap. The touch ignites a spark that travels up my leg, setting my nerves alight and flooding me with desire in every conceivable way.

His other hand gathers the strap with precision, and his fingers gently squeeze as he secures the buckle with a patience that feels nearly…indulgent. There's an intimacy in the action and a tension that straddles the line between unbearable and intoxicating.

His thumb sweeps over the arch of my foot, lingering for the briefest moment, and I swear I feel it everywhere. My pulse thrums in my ears, and I’m painfully aware of how close his lips are to the bare skin of my leg, the heat of his breath grazing me like a whispered promise.

Watching him fasten my heel with an intoxicating mix of power and gentleness takes my breath away. It’s like he could snap me in half with one hand but chooses to wrap me in silk instead.

“There.” He secures the strap, his hands lingering and his thumb making another slow pass over the curve of my ankle. His gaze lifts, locking onto mine, and the intensity in his dark eyes rattles my bones, searing through me with a promise of everything Ishould resist but find myself incapable of doing. “Can't have you tripping, now, can we?”

“Wouldn’t want that,” I manage.

Then, just as smoothly as he went down, he rises, and it’s almost impossible to breathe with him towering over me.

My knees threaten to give out, but I lock them, desperate to hold my ground. He’s too close, too much, yet I can’t bring myself to step back.

“I have half a mind to take you back into that house,” he murmurs.

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