Page 75 of Silence and Surrender

“It’s perfect,” Isabella cut in. Her voice wasn’t harsh, just tired. “Thank you. Both of you. I just need...”

“Space,” Allegra finished. “Of course. I’ll bring dinner later. Light soup, nothing too heavy.”

I set Isabella’s bag near the bedroom door, uncertain of my place here. Steele had been to her apartment in London and sent some of her things over before we had even rescued her.

In London, everything had been clear—find her, save her, keep her safe. But now…

“You don’t have to stay,” she said quietly. “I know you feel obligated—”

“No.” The word came out rougher than I intended. “That’s not...I should go. Let you rest. But I’ll be just down the hall in Cooper’s office if you need anything.”

Her eyes met mine for the first time since the rescue, and for a moment I saw past the new walls she’d built to something raw and uncertain. “Why are you really here, Colton?”

Because I love you, I thought but couldn’t say. Not yet. Not when she was still healing.

“Because you’re not alone,” I said instead. “Not ever again.”

The first days at the villa developed their own rhythm. Allegra handled the medical aspects with grace, while Cooper coordinated security with a network of old contacts. I found myself caught between wanting to help and knowing when to step back.

Memories of our time at the bank haunted me. Walking past her office each morning, that quick mind of hers dissecting evidence and questioning procedures. How she’d lean against my desk during late meetings, gesturing emphatically about authentication protocols while I pretended her proximity didn’t affect me.

“You’re hovering,” she said one afternoon, catching me watching her from the terrace doorway. She sat in a pool of sunlight, a large book open in her lap. The Italian sun had begun returning some color to her face, though she was still too thin.

“Force of habit,” I admitted. “From my days as the bank’s counsel.”

A hint of a smile touched her lips. “Ah yes. Mr. Moreau and his precious procedures.”

The echo of her old teasing felt like hope. Like perhaps somewhere beneath the trauma, the Isabella I’d known still existed. The one who’d stormed into my office that day, demanding explanations for irregularities in shipping manifests.

“You made those procedures very difficult to maintain,” I said, moving to sit in the chair opposite her. Far enough to give space, close enough if she needed me.

“Someone had to challenge your rigid worldview.” Her hands tightened slightly on the book. “Though I suppose recent events have done that more thoroughly than I ever could.”

The shadow that crossed her face made my chest ache. I wanted to reach for her, to offer comfort, but I remembered her flinch that first day. Instead, I asked, “What are you reading?”

She glanced down at the book, something vulnerable crossing her expression. “Documentation methods for Renaissance masters. I was testing...seeing if I could still...”

“Still what?”

“Trust my expertise.” The words came out small. “After they used it against us. Used art to hide...” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Your expertise helped us save those girls that were held with you.” I said quietly. “Helped us uncover their network. Saved lives.”

“Not soon enough.” Her hands trembled slightly. “Not for the others in those containers. The ones who never came back. And I lost the thumb drive. All that…for nothing.”

I hadn’t even considered the evidence that we’d stolen that fateful night. To be honest, I’d hardly thought about bringing Devereux Bank down. I was too busy watching Isabella.

I tried to channel the rage I’d felt discovering those shipping manifests. Lives treated like cargo. Isabella was my priority, but we’d still have to deal with the can of worms we’d opened.

“We’ll find them,” I promised. “Your father’s notes, combined with what we discovered—we’ll bring it all down.”

She looked up then, really looked at me, and I saw a flash of her old fire. “We?”

“Yes.” I met her gaze steadily. “If you’ll let me help. Let me...” I struggled to find the right words. “Let me be there. Whatever you need.”

“Why?” That single word held so many questions.

Because watching you challenge every assumption made me question my own rigid walls. Because seeing your passion for justice made me want to be better. Because somewhere between arguments and late nights examining evidence, I fell in love with your brilliant mind and fierce heart.

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