Page 76 of Silence and Surrender

But I couldn’t say any of that. Not yet. Not when trust was still such a fragile thing between us.

“Because you were right,” I said. “About the bank. About everything that mattered.”

She studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself to stay still under that harsh assessment. Finally, she said softly, “You’ve changed.”

“You changed me.” The admission felt dangerous. Too honest. Too close to everything I wasn’t ready to voice.

Her words echoed in my head that night as I paced the villa’s halls, sleep elusive as usual.You’ve changed. She wasn’t wrong. The by-the-book lawyer who’d lived and breathed order felt like a stranger now. That man would never have defied the board, never have learned combat, never have killed to protect someone he…

A scream shattered the night’s quiet.

I was moving before I even realized it, muscle memory from previous nights taking over. Isabella’s terrace doors were open to the Italian air, the light from the crescent moon spilling across her thrashing form.

“Isabella.” I kept my voice steady, not touching, not yet. “You’re safe. You’re at Allegra’s and Cooper’s villa. It’s Tuesday. It’s 2:00 a.m. You’re safe.”

She awoke with that same awareness I’d always admired, instantly alert but trembling. “Colton?”

“Right here.” I stayed by the door, letting her orient herself. “Just a dream.”

“Not a dream.” Her voice was rough. “Memory. They were...the other girls were...”

“Look at me,” I said quietly. When she did, I continued. “We’ll find them. Every girl. Every trafficker. Every piece of evidence. Together.”

Something shifted in her expression. “Like we did at the bank? Before...”

“Better.” I moved closer, drawn by the vulnerability in her voice.

She was quiet for a long moment, moonlight catching the tears on her cheeks. Then, so softly I almost missed it: “Will you stay? Just…sit with me?”

The trust in that request staggered me. This brilliant, fierce woman who’d challenged my every assumption was letting me see her broken edges. Letting me help her heal.

Letting me love her, though neither of us were ready to name it yet.

“Of course.” I settled into the chair near her bed, close enough to remind her she wasn’t alone, far enough to give her space to breathe. “I’ll be right here.”

She curled onto her side, watching me with those clever eyes that had first captured my attention months ago. “Tell me something,” she whispered. “Anything.”

So I reminded her about our first meeting, how she’d walked into my office on her first day as the bank’s new art expert, already challenging my team’s procedures with that mix of French sophistication and brilliance. How she’d made every board meeting more interesting with her passionate defense of art over process. How she’d gotten under my skin from day one.

She drifted off to my voice, her breathing finally steady. I watched her sleep, remembering how she used to look across my desk—challenging, intimidating, unstoppable. The woman who’d made me want to be more.

The woman I’d fallen in love with, procedure by shattered procedure.

“I’ll make it right,” I promised her sleeping form. “Everything they broke. Everything they stole. Whatever you need to heal.”

Because somewhere between arguments and desperate searches through shipping manifests, I’d learned what really mattered.

Only this moment. Only our connection.

Dawn was breaking over the vineyard when she stirred again. Her hand found mine in the grey light, and for now, that was enough.

We had time. Time to heal. Time to trust. Time to find our way back to the passion we’d glimpsed in that vault kiss, but deeper now. Stronger.

Real.

Chapter Thirty-One

Isabella

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