Page 74 of Silence and Surrender

So I talked. About Allegra and Cooper’s vineyard where I’d take her to recover. About the roses Allegra grew along the terrace walls. About Clara’s recent fascination with painting everything purple. Anything to keep her mind from dark places.

We stayed in bed the rest of the day, and even into the night. Isabella slept in cycles, brief periods of sleep broken by nightmares, quiet conversations in the dark, small sips of broth or tea. Each time she woke disoriented, I was there with careful touches and soft words, reminding her she was safe.

She finally fell into a deeper sleep, her breathing evening out against my neck. I kept watch as the hours passed by, cataloging what needed to be done. She needed food, more fluids, and antibiotics for the infections. I’d need to move her to the estate soon, somewhere with gardens and sunlight and space to heal.

But for now, I simply held her, memorizing the weight of her in my arms. Every breath she took was a victory. Every moment of peace was precious.

Because she was alive.

Because she was in my arms where she belonged.

The next week passed in a blur of medical evaluations, security precautions, and careful recovery.

We drove her to Cooper and Allegra’s estate. I’d made excuses at work, cited a family emergency. I saw company emails come through on my phone, updates about the missing art authenticator, even though I knew that there were certain people at the bank who knew exactly what happened to her. Hopefully, they didn’t know where she was now.

The Italian sun felt wrong.

The villa sprawled before us, all rich stone and ancient cypress trees, while Isabella slept in the car beside me. She hadn’t stirred during the drive, the exhaustion of her ordeal still evident in the shadows beneath her eyes. Even in sleep, her body remained tense, curled away from any contact.

I bit my lip, remembering how differently we’d sat in my office months ago. She’d challenged everything, eyes burning as she questioned my methods. I’d found her infuriating then—this art expert who seemed to delight in disrupting my carefully ordered world.

Now I couldn’t stop watching her breathe.

“I’m glad you both are coming here,” Cooper said softly from the driver’s seat. “Allegra’s prepared a bedroom in the new addition. Private entrance, good security sight lines.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. The clinical instructions from the doctor still echoed in my head. Trauma recovery. Sleep disorders. Possible dissociation. Everything measured and documented, like we could somehow quantify what she’d endured.

What I’d failed to prevent.

“Stop it,” Cooper said, reading my tension. “This wasn’t your fault.”

But it was. I was the one who’d gotten carried away that night. Who’d been too distracted by sex, by how she’d felt in my arms, by emotions I hadn’t wanted to examine too closely. I’d let my guard down, and then they’d taken her. And then I’d acted rash at the docks, and ruined the chance we had to rescue her.

Isabella woke as we pulled up to the villa, that sharp intelligence I’d always admired assessing her surroundings instantly. She didn’t ask where we were, Cooper had explained his offer of sanctuary. But her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the door handle.

“Let me,” I said, moving to help her. But I stopped at her flinch—barely perceptible, but it cut deeper than any wound I’d taken during her rescue.

“I can manage,” she said quietly. Her French accent was more pronounced now, like maintaining her usual precise English required too much energy.

I watched her ease herself from the car, movements careful but determined. Even now, after everything, there was that pillar of strength I’d first noticed during board meetings. The strength that had made her question my authority, challenge my methods, demand better from everyone around her.

The strength I’d fallen in love with before I’d even realized what was happening.

“The add-on has good light,” Allegra said, appearing at the villa’s entrance. Her physical therapy training showed in how she moved—confident but non-threatening, giving Isabella space while staying close enough to catch her if needed. Allegra was the best at what she did—her wellness center was so popular that it had outgrown their estate last fall. Located offsite now and closer to the city, she had an entire staff at her disposal. “And a private terrace. Fresh air helps with healing.”

Isabella nodded once, following Allegra inside. I watched her careful walk and tried not to remember how she used to fill my office with her presence. How she’d arrive with stacks of documentation, determined to prove some point about authentication methods or acquisition reporting.

How I’d found myself looking forward to our arguments, to the flash of passion in her eyes when she challenged me.

“She needs time,” Cooper said quietly, reading my expression. “Space to find herself again.”

“I know.” I watched her disappear into the villa with Allegra. “I just...”

“Want to fix everything?” His smile held old knowledge. “Some things can’t be fixed, brother. They can only be survived. Healed.”

The east wing suite was exactly as Allegra had described, flooded with light from tall windows, a private terrace offering views of the vineyard. Isabella stood very still in the center of the sitting room, hands clasped tightly together.

“The bathroom has a soaking tub,” Allegra said. “And the bedroom gets morning sun. We thought—”

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