Chapter 12: Breaking the Rules

Isla spent the rest of the day avoiding Alessandro.

It wasn't easy, considering she now lived with him. But she managed—ducking out of rooms before he entered, keeping conversations with the staff longer than necessary, pretending to be absorbed in work whenever she sensed his presence nearby.

It was childish. But after last night—and this morning—she needed distance.

Needed to remind herself that Alessandro Romano was not someone she could afford to want.

Because wanting him?

That would ruin her.

—

By evening, she had convinced herself she could handle dinner with him.

It was just a meal. Just two people sharing a space.

But the moment she stepped into the dining room and saw Alessandro leaning back in his chair, sipping a glass of red wine like he owned the world, she knew she had been dead wrong.

His dark eyes lifted to hers, his lips curving in a slow, knowing smirk. "You finally stopped hiding."

"I wasn't hiding," she said, forcing herself to take a seat across from him.

"No?" He set his glass down, watching her too closely. "Then what would you call it?"

"Self-preservation."

His smirk deepened. "And yet, you're here."

She ignored the heat creeping up her neck and reached for the plate of pasta that had been set out for her. "Because I was hungry."

Alessandro chuckled, low and amused, as he picked up his fork. "Of course."

They ate in silence for a while, the tension between them thick enough to suffocate her.

Finally, Alessandro spoke again, his voice deceptively casual. "I have an event tomorrow night. You'll accompany me."

She set her fork down. "Where?"

"A private dinner party. Small, exclusive." He took a sip of wine, watching her over the rim of his glass. "It'll be a perfect opportunity for you to reinforce the role of Mrs. Romano."

Something about the way he said it—so smooth, so effortless—made her stomach twist.

"I don't need you scheduling my life without consulting me," she said coolly.

He tilted his head. "You signed a contract, cara mia. That means your schedule is mine."

Isla clenched her jaw. "You really enjoy pushing me, don't you?"

His lips curved. "Immensely."

She exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table. "I'll come to your damn dinner."

"Good girl."

Her stomach flipped at the low, approving tone in his voice.

Damn him.

She needed to get away from him, now.

Pushing her chair back, she stood. "I'm going to bed."

Alessandro leaned back in his seat, looking entirely unbothered. "Sleep well, wife."

She gritted her teeth and turned on her heel.

But as she left the room, her heart pounded with a terrifying realization.

No matter how much she tried to fight him, to resist—

Alessandro always won.

And she was starting to wonder…

How much longer before she let him?