Chapter 13
Kiryan
After the banquet broke up, I didn't go back to the manor. I went to the office.
A few hours earlier, I'd had my security park Isabella in my office. Now I rode the elevator up, ready to face a past that should've stayed dead.
The office lights were off. Isabella sat alone in the dark, the kind of sight that made pity creep in before you could stop it. When the lights snapped on, she blinked like she'd finally come back to herself and looked at me.
"You're finally back." She sprang up from the couch. "I thought—"
"Why did you leave back then?"
That kiss tonight had come out of nowhere, too fast, too damn unexpected. I'd barely dodged it. I'd told myself she was never coming back. She'd been fine in Europe—hell, she'd probably forgotten me. So I'd forced myself to let it go, to accept a new life for real.
And now she'd walked back in and wrecked all of it.
She didn't answer. She wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Look at me, Isabella." I gripped her shoulders. "Why did you disappear without leaving me a single word?"
Her hazel eyes swam with tears. Even like that, she held her neck and back straight, like she refused to fall apart all the way.
"I didn't want you to feel guilty. I didn't leave because I didn't love you." Her voice shook. "I left because I loved you too much. I couldn't stay and watch you choose someone else."
I said nothing.
"I thought about you every day." She bit her lower lip, like her pride finally ran out. "I kept telling myself if I came back, you'd hate me even more. But I was more scared I'd never see you again. So I came back anyway."
"But you didn't suffer without me." I stepped back half a pace and stared her down. "My people checked. Paris. Milan. Nice. Bars, yachts, private parties—every damn day."
It hit her like a slap. The color drained from her face.
"What you saw was what people wanted you to see."
"So the pictures were fake? The booze you drank and the parties you hit were fake too?" I didn't raise my voice, but the facts landed heavy.
"Alcohol helps me sleep!" Her voice shot up, then fell to a rasp.
"Those parties give me a few hours where I don't have to hear your name in my head.
Everyone thinks I am having the time of my life because I can't tell them my own little sister shoved me out of your life.
Paris, London, Rome... I went everywhere.
And none of it makes me happy without you. "
I watched her, trying to read what was real. I'd never seen her like this—Isabella, proud as she was, cracked wide open.
"You don't believe me?" She stared at me like I'd betrayed her.
"I believe evidence."
She held my gaze for two seconds, then turned away.
The west wall was all glass—floor-to-ceiling windows that opened to a terrace. Below it, the street and the cars looked like black specks. She walked straight over and flipped the latch. Wind punched inside, yanking at her skirt.
"Isabella."
She stepped over the frame, heels clicking onto the terrace. Then she turned back, tears stuck to her cheeks.
My lungs locked up.
Years ago, when I'd pushed open my mother's bedroom door, I'd seen a face that pale. My father's betrayal had hollowed her out, and she'd still told me she was fine. Later she never woke up. The fear from that moment had never left—it had just been buried deep.
Now it tore through the cover and clamped around my throat.
"Get down." I moved fast, stopping as close as I could without spooking her. "Don't do something stupid."
"If dying makes you believe I love you, then at least my death will be good for something."
She closed her eyes and started to lean back.
I lunged. Before she could commit, I wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her away from the edge. She slammed into my chest, arms flying up around my neck, shaking hard.
I slammed the glass door shut and snapped the lock. Only when the wind died behind the glass did I ease my grip.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" My temples throbbed.
She just buried her face against my neck. Hot tears soaked my skin.
"I don't want to ruin your marriage," she said. "When you're with Elena, I won't interfere. I just... want to see you sometimes. After I get closure, I'll leave."
I believed her. Maybe there were holes in it, but after watching her nearly fall, I couldn't think clearly. Still, I couldn't betray Elena.
I guided Isabella back to the couch, peeling her hands off me when she wouldn't let go.
"I can believe you. But I won't promise you anything."
"Because of Elena?" Isabella studied me for a long time. "You've fallen in love with her?"
When she said it, my body remembered that night—Elena asleep in my bed, like she belonged there forever.
"Kiryan, you don't even know her," Isabella said. "She's played pathetic since she was a kid. Head down, never fighting for anything, letting everyone speak for her. Then the second people relax, she takes whatever she wants."
My cheekbone tightened.
"Watch who you're talking about."
"I am talking about my sister," she said, meeting my eyes. "And the woman who's lied to you."
She pulled out her phone. Her slim fingers tapped the screen, then she held it out.
A video started.
A dim hotel room. Clothes on the floor. A man pressed a woman against the door and drove into her. The lighting was low, but I recognized the bodies tangled together.
It was me and Elena.
I snatched the phone and replayed it. The time, the room—every detail matched. The camera angle came from a corner, recording the night of the engagement party.
"This was sent to me by Elena."
"What did you just say?" My blood cooled, inch by inch.
"After she left your room that night, she came to me with that video.
" Isabella's voice stayed steady, but her eyes were wet.
"She said if I didn't leave, she'd hand it to the media.
She said reporters would love the story.
Your enemies would love it too." She paused.
"I could have stayed and exposed her, but once that video got out, your rivals would have used it like a knife. I couldn't risk your name."
I stared at the frozen frame, my chest rising and falling too hard.
I'd thought that night in her studio I'd finally seen Elena clearly—sweet, kind, all empathy and soft edges. This video cut right through that picture and split it down the middle.
I remembered the way she'd looked at me in bed. The way she'd pressed her forehead to my chest, her breathing going ragged. And in the middle of my fury, my body still remembered her heat.
I had to shove my emotions back into a place I could control. Until I confirmed where the video came from, I wasn't going back to confront Elena. Anger made men stupid, and I'd already made too many mistakes between two Rossi women.
Isabella brushed my arm.
"Have a drink with me. Just one." Her voice softened. "You need to calm down. I do too."
I looked at her. I remembered dragging her back from the terrace edge. The refusal rose to my tongue, then I swallowed it. And I couldn't deny it—I needed alcohol to loosen the knot in my head.
I turned to the liquor cabinet, pulled a whiskey, and poured two glasses. Isabella took hers, her fingertips grazing mine.
"You said you wanted closure," I said, draining half my glass in one swallow. "How?"
The burn tore down my throat, but it didn't erase Elena's face flashing in my head. I poured myself more.
"I don't know." Isabella stared into her drink. "Maybe when I can watch you with her and not feel my heart rip apart. Maybe when I accept you'll never love me again."
"Don't hand your life over to time. Time doesn't take responsibility for anyone."
"Then you decide for me."
She finished her drink and walked toward me, swaying. I caught her. She melted into my chest, that familiar-but-not scent of her perfume sliding into my lungs.
And my body remembered a different scent first—paint, soap, and the orange blossom that clung to Elena's hair.
Isabella tipped her face up, fingers slipping inside my collar. I closed my hand around her wrist.
"Stop."
Her lashes fluttered like she didn't understand. "We've both been drinking. Things happen. That's normal."
"That isn't a reason."
If this had been before, her body this close would've sparked something in me. But I felt nothing.
I thought of my father—cheating like it was nothing, living in his mistress's bed, wearing perfume that didn't belong to my mother, then sitting at the head of the table like a king. He'd made my mother doubt herself. He'd let her wither while she waited.
I'd sworn I'd never be that man.
Whether Elena had played me or not, she was my wife. Evidence could change what I believed about her. It couldn't erase my line.
While I was thinking, Isabella's face drifted closer. I turned my head. Her kiss landed on my neck instead.
I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back to arm's length.
"You really don't want me anymore?" Her eyes looked wounded.
"I have a wife."
"A wife who threatened me. A wife who lied to you."
"Whatever she did, I'll find out. But until then, she is Mrs. Morozova. I'm not touching another woman in my marriage."
Isabella went white.
"I'm taking you home." I walked to the door.
She stood there for a long time before she followed.
By the time we drove away, the city had sunk into deep night. Isabella leaned in the passenger seat, eyes shut, one hand pressing her temple. She didn't speak the whole ride. She only opened her eyes when we stopped under her building.
"Get out," I said, glancing at her.
"My head hurts."
"I'll have a doctor come."
"I don't need a doctor." She grabbed my sleeve. "Come up with me. Just until I fall asleep."
I checked the time. Elena might've been waiting for me.
My phone sat in my pocket. I should've called, told her when I was coming back.
But the video shoved itself into my mind at the worst possible moment. I didn't want to hear Elena's voice and lose control. I sure as hell didn't want to ask her over the phone when she'd started calculating me.
"Kiryan," Isabella pleaded. "I feel terrible."
In the end, I went upstairs with her.
Her apartment looked the same as it used to—clean, spare, nothing extra. I helped her sit on the edge of the bed, poured a glass of water, and set it on the nightstand.
"Drink. Then sleep."
She took one sip.
"I am scared to sleep." Her voice trembled.
"When I close my eyes, I go back to all those nights without you.
Just... let me have tonight, okay? Stay until morning, so when I open my eyes, you are still there.
Just once. I don't want to go right back to that life—waking up not knowing where you are, not knowing if I'll ever see you again. "
It was hard to say no. A few hours earlier she'd been on the terrace edge. I couldn't make myself believe she had some angle right now.
"I'll stay."
I turned off the light. Darkness dropped, cut only by a cold strip of city glow leaking through the curtains.
"Kiryan, I want you by the bed," Isabella said again. "I want to watch you fall asleep."
So I sat at her bedside.
She shifted, facing me. Not long after, she finally closed her eyes, her breathing evening out.
I told myself I'd stayed only to make sure Isabella didn't walk back onto a terrace. I just needed to steady her, keep her from doing something stupid. That was it.
But the tightness in my chest got worse.
I had to admit the truth.
Hell, I didn't even know how to deal with that damn video. And worse—I didn't know how to face Elena.