Page 14 of Twisted Vows

After dressing in something light and simple, she forced herself to leave her room. The house was eerily quiet as she padded barefoot through the halls, but there was a stillness in the air, as if something was waiting, holding its breath. She found Matteo in the dining room, sitting at the long table, already sipping coffee as he read over a document. He didn’t look up when she entered, but she felt his awareness, a tension laced beneath his calm façade, as if he too was pretending that nothing had happened.

“You’re up early,” he remarked, voice smooth, unreadable.

Isla poured herself coffee, refusing to meet his gaze. “Couldn’t sleep.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. She felt his eyes on her, felt the question hanging in the air, but he didn’t push.

“Big plans today?” he asked instead, flipping a page in his file as if last night hadn’t happened, as if he hadn’t kissed her with enough force to unravel her.

Isla forced a smirk. “Are you giving me permission to have plans, husband?”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing there before he took another sip of coffee. “Do I need to?”

The tension between them crackled, thick and unspoken. Isla hated how easily he got under her skin, how much space he occupied in her mind. She should have hated him more for what he’d done. And yet… she didn’t.

She sat across from him, tearing off a piece of bread from the basket between them, forcing herself to focus on the ordinary act of eating, as if her world hadn’t been flipped upside down. As if his kiss hadn’t sent her spiraling into unknown territory.

“You’re staring,” she noted, glancing up at him.

Matteo didn’t deny it. “You’re acting strange.”

Isla scoffed. “Maybe I’m just tired of this prison.”

He studied her, something unreadable flickering in his dark gaze. “You’re not a prisoner, Isla.”

She arched a brow. “A captive by any other name…”

Matteo set his cup down, leaning back slightly. “You’re not the woman I expected you to be.”

She met his gaze head-on. “And you’re not the monster I thought you were.”

Silence settled between them, heavier than before. It was the first time she had admitted it, even to herself. He was still ruthless, still dangerous—but he was more than just a villain in her story. There was something else there, something unspoken and fragile, something neither of them had been willing to acknowledge.

Matteo broke the moment first, standing. “We leave in an hour. Be ready.”

Isla frowned, leaning back in her chair. “Where are we going?”

Matteo hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “There are things you need to see.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”

His expression didn’t change, but there was something in his gaze, something wary, as if even he wasn’t sure where this was leading. “Just be ready.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Isla alone with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unspoken.

****

The drive was long, stretching beyond the city limits, past sprawling vineyards and old villa’s that stood like sentinels of a bygone era. Isla watched the landscape shift, her fingers curling in her lap as she stole glances at Matteo, who remained silent beside her. He drove with the same control he carried in every aspect of his life—measured, confident, unshaken.

She hated that she was curious. Hated that some part of her wanted to know what he wanted to show her.

When they finally pulled onto a secluded road, flanked by towering cypress trees, Isla tensed. “What is this?” she asked.

Matteo didn’t answer immediately. The car came to a slow stop in front of an iron gate, which swung open with a heavy groan. Beyond it, an old villa stood, grand but aged, its stone façade kissed by time and wear.

“This was my mother’s house,” he said finally, his voice devoid of emotion. “Before it was taken from her.”

Isla turned to him, her pulse stuttering. She had never heard him speak of his mother, had never seen him drop the steel walls he so meticulously maintained. “What happened to her?”

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