Page 76 of Stolen By the Don

He waves like we’re old friends at brunch. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. I came to check on Isabella. Wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

I arch a brow, sliding my hands into my pockets as I walk toward him. “So soon?”

He nods, smiling like a man who knows exactly what button to push. “Yeah. You know…the whole self-denial arc? ‘I don’t have feelings for my wife. I’m just keeping her here for leverage.’ That bit? I was wondering how long that performance would last.”

I exhale through my nose, calm but cold. “And so you took her to the club,” I counter smoothly, “without telling me.”

Leo shrugs, his smirk unwavering. “She needed to let loose. Blow off steam. I didn’t plan for her to get wasted, but I wasn’t about to lecture her, either. It’s not my fault you ditched her mid-storm. You should’ve thought about that before you took your little sabbatical.”

I tilt my head. “Is this a confrontation?”

He shakes his head with exaggerated innocence. “Nah. I know how your brain works. So, I’m answering the questions before you ask them. Where did she go? Why was she drunk? Why didn’t I call you? All that.” He grins. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see her come in last night?”

My jaw tightens.

“Where’s Isabella?” he asks.

I shoot a glance over my shoulder, a deflection that he doesn’t miss. When I turn, Leo’s grin widens. I start to defend myself, but I don’t get the chance because the door creaks open behind me, and thetruthwalks out.

Barefoot, with tousled hair and wearing my shirt, Isabella enters the hallway. Sleepy, blinking hard at the light, and completely oblivious to the world.

“Leo?” she murmurs. Her voice is rough with sleep, eyes squinting. “Hi!”

The smug silence that follows is deafening. Leo looks past me, then back at me, practically glowing. I don’t bother turning around. I already know what he sees.

And I hate that I want to see it too.

23

ISABELLA

My eyes flicker between Roman and Leo, all of us seated at the dining table. They look like they just stepped out of a wrestling ring, with the victor being painfully obvious.

Wearing a gloating smile, Leo slides a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Roman glares at him while stabbing the eggs.

I shouldn’t have asked them to join me for breakfast.I just thought it was a nice gesture—repaying Leo for being a chauffeur and Roman for not killing me last night.

“Okay.” I slam my fist on the table, earning their attention. “Are you two going to be cordial, or do I have to stage an intervention?”

“Depends on what cordial is,” Leo says.

“No,” says Roman.

“Fine.” I shrug. “But if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, Roman, and if you’re going to keep gloating, Leo, then I think I should look for somewhere else to eat.”

As I grab my plate, Roman stops me. “I’ll leave,” he says roughly.

My hand stills on the plate as Roman pushes back his chair with a harsh scrape against the floor. The muscles in his jaw twitch, and his eyes don’t meet mine, not once, as he stands.

Just that low, clipped voice: “I have things to do anyway.”

I stare at him as he walks away, puzzled. My intention was to de-escalate the tension, not turn him into a storm cloud with legs.

My gaze trails back to Leo, but he’s already watching me. “What?” I snap, more defensive than I mean to be.

He lifts a shoulder, chewing another bite of eggs. “Nothing,” he says with maddening nonchalance. “Just wondering how long it’ll take you to go after him.”

I scoff. “I’m not going after him.”

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