chapter 11

Isabella's POV.

After my chat with Alessandro, I opened the curtains and saw that dawn was spreading over the horizon, painting the sky with shades of apricot. A sigh escaped my lips another day, another mountain of projects looming over head sighing I my laptop screen and settled into bed, the cold metal of the laptop in stark contrast to the warmth of the rising sun. My fingers flew across the keyboard, but my mind kept returning to Alessandro and the intensity of our meeting. Had I revealed too much? Was I ready to let him in? The confusion was a suffocating weight.

An hour dissolved into a whirlwind of deadlines and half-finished thoughts. A sharp knock on the door jolted me back to the present. Panic flared, my bed a chaotic landscape of open files, the laptop screen still displaying sensitive information. With frantic speed, I pared everything down, hastily closing the window containing the most important data. A romantic comedy appeared on the screen, a flimsy disguise for my recent activities. Just as I settled into a semblance of calm, Marco walked in.

“Breakfast is ready,” he announced, his tone bordering on patronizing. The words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken implication of childishness.

A flicker of annoyance flared inside me. “Thanks, but I'm not hungry,” I replied, my voice carefully neutral. The disappointment that momentarily clouded his features was almost imperceptible, a fleeting shadow on his normally cheerful expression. But then, a subtle change in his demeanor. “A drink, though, wouldn't hurt,” I added, my gaze lingering on the slightly upturned curve of his lips, an almost invisible smile that only my attention could have caught.

Shutting my laptop completely, I got out of bed and followed Marco into the kitchen. Everyone went silent when we entered. Some glared at me, and others looked like they wanted to speak but refrained from doing so. "Good morning," I muttered to myself. I got a few more glares, but mostly I got a response.

"So bambino I was just talking to the boys and we were thinking about doing some activities together. If that is something you wouldn't mind." Marco asked nervously almost afraid of my answer.

I gave a noncommittal shrug, my thoughts still preoccupied with everything swirling around me. "Sure, why not?" I replied, trying to keep my voice light. I walked over to the coffee machine, hoping that a cup would help me clear my head for the day ahead. "What were you thinking of doing?"

He seemed a little too eager, almost like a child trying to win approval. "Well," he continued, excitement bubbling in his voice, "maybe we could stay here for a while, watch a movie, and then go out to do something fun, like laser tag. What do you think?"

I nodded, my heart not really in it, but I could sense how much he wanted me to be excited. It was hard not to see the shift in his mood when I gave only the slightest of responses. "Sounds great," I muttered. But inside, I couldn’t help but feel a deep well of uncertainty. I didn’t want to get too close, but part of me felt the need to comfort him, to reassure him that it was all okay. But I knew better than to let my guard down too easily. Caring too much would only end in more pain, and I wasn’t ready for that.

I sat down at the table with my coffee, trying to drown out the chatter around me. To my left, two of them were whispering about who would win over a girl from their school, and to my right, another pair of voices were discussing shipment delays. Their words blurred together into a dull hum, but none of it mattered. I just wanted some peace.

Then, Marco spoke again, drawing everyone's attention to me. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice cutting through the noise, "why aren't you eating?"

The question made my chest tighten. "Oh, sorry, but I really—" I started to respond, but I was interrupted by Leonardo’s voice, sharp and dismissive.

"She's probably insecure about her weight and doesn't eat because of it," he sneered, his words dripping with condescension.

That did it. Something in me snapped. Without warning, I burst into laughter, a loud, hysterical laugh that probably startled even me. I couldn’t believe how ridiculous his comment was. After catching my breath, I looked at him and said, "I am not insecure. I'm actually pretty happy with how I look. I just don’t feel like eating right now, which leads me to my next point."

I walked toward him, leaning down to his level, my voice dropping into a low, threatening tone. "But if I hear one more insult or even my name coming out of your mouth before you take the time to actually get to know me, we will see just how well ‘little miss insecure’ can beat your ass."

I stood up, leaving Leonardo stunned, and walked out of the kitchen, leaving them all staring after me. I needed a moment to cool down, to finish my coffee in peace. When I finally made it back to my room, I sat on my bed, picking up my phone, only to find that Ryan and Diego had texted and called me repeatedly. My stomach sank. Great. Just great.

I opened the group chat, reading their messages. Some were funny, others a bit reckless, but they all made me rethink my life choices.

Ryan: "Bet you she gets kidnapped again."

Diego: "How much are we talking?"

Ryan: "How about a hundred thousand?"

Diego: "Deal."

I facepalmed as I dialed them up, only to be greeted by Ryan’s dramatic voice shouting down the phone, "Acabo de perder cien mil gracias a ti." (I just lost a hundred thousand thanks to you.)

"Te dije que no apostaras si me secuestraban o no," I replied, rolling my eyes. (I told you not to bet on whether I’d get kidnapped or not.)

Ryan, always the dramatic one, couldn’t help but play up the situation. For someone older than me, he sure acted like a golden retriever—energetic, optimistic, and a bit naive. Meanwhile, Diego was the serious one, the rock that held us together.

"Hola, Diageo, ¿cómo estás?" I greeted him, trying to shift the conversation.

"Don’t ‘hey, Diageo’ me," he replied sternly. "Where are you? Are you safe?" His tone shifted from playful to serious in an instant. "You left us at school, ghosted us, and now you’re in Italy. What the hell, Isabella?"

I sighed, glancing at the door as another knock came. I hung up, muttering that I’d call him later. I couldn’t even explain myself fully before another interruption. "Come in!" Marco peaked in asking if he can have word with me. Can this day get any worse?

Words: 1152

Sorry for late update