Chapter Twenty Five.

Isabella.

I don’t know why Matteo is acting like this. He’s always been cold, sure, but today… today feels different.

There’s something in the way he looks at me, or maybe it’s how he avoids looking at me at all. It’s not just the usual cold shoulder.

It’s like he’s angry. Or worse, like he doesn’t care at all.

I sit beside him in the car, staring out the window, trying not to think too hard. But the silence between us is so loud it makes my skin itch.

I had hoped—just a little—that he would be nicer to me today. Maybe say something kind, maybe look at me like I meant something. But no. Instead, he’s harsher than ever.

When we pull into his estate, the gates closing behind us, he stops the car near the entrance.

“Get down,” he says flatly, without even glancing at me.

I blink, confused. “What?”

“Get down,” he repeats, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’m taking the car.”

I climb out slowly, not sure what’s happening. As soon as I shut the door, he moves into the driver’s seat and drives off, leaving me standing there alone.

I don’t even get a chance to ask where he’s going or why he’s being this way.

I walk back into the house, feeling something burn inside me. I’m used to his distance. I’ve learned to live with his silence.

But this… this coldness is too sharp. It cuts. I tell myself that I’m done caring. I won’t let Matteo get to me again. He can be as harsh as he wants. I won’t let it break me.

That night, I come downstairs to grab something from the kitchen. My head’s been pounding, and I thought maybe some water or a snack would help. I don’t expect to see him there.

But there he is—Matteo—standing at the stove, sleeves rolled up, trying to cook something. He looks… hot. Like, stupidly hot.

I hate how my heart skips a beat just looking at him. His hair is messy, his shirt fits him too well, and the way he’s concentrating makes something tighten in my chest.

I step into the kitchen quietly. “Didn’t know you could cook,” I say, trying to sound casual.

He doesn’t look at me. “I don’t. I’m just hungry.”

I move a little closer, leaning against the counter. “Can I ask something?”

He finally glances at me, his expression sharp. “What?”

“Why were you so cold earlier? I mean, you’re always cold, but today felt different. What happened?”

He stirs the pot without answering. The silence stretches again, thick and heavy.

“I’m serious, Matteo.”

He slams the spoon down and turns to face me. “Mind your damn business, Isabella.”

I flinch, surprised by his tone. My chest tightens with anger. I’m so tired of this.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” I snap. “You can go straight to hell. I don’t care what your problem is anymore. You don’t want me around? Fine. I’ll stay far away from you. Don’t ever talk to me again.”

I storm out before he can say another word. My heart is pounding, not just from the fight but from the sting of it all.

I don’t even understand why I care this much. Why it hurts this much. I slam my door shut when I get to my room and bury my face in my pillow.

He’s just a guy. A cold, angry, emotionally distant guy. I don’t need him.

But I still feel like crying.

The next morning, I don’t expect to see him waiting by the stairs.

He’s dressed in all black, the usual assassin gear. His face is unreadable as always.

“You still want to come on missions?” he asks.

I blink at him, confused. “What?”

“You asked before. You want in or not?”

I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to understand what changed. Why now? Why after all that?

“Yes,” I say quickly, not letting the moment pass. “I do.”

“Then get ready, I'll ask Rocco to let you know if we have a mission .”

He walks off before I can ask why. I stand there, stunned. Is this his way of apologizing? Or is he just trying to get rid of me faster?

I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I know is, I’m in. I get to prove myself now. I get to do what I’ve always wanted.

Back in my room, i stand in front of the mirror getting ready for training.. My hands are shaking a little, but I tell myself it’s just excitement. Or nerves. Not because of Matteo. I won’t let him get under my skin again.

This is my chance. I’ll do what I need to do. I’ll stay out of his way and focus on my own path. If he wants to be cold, fine. If he wants to pretend I don’t matter, that’s fine too.

I won’t let him get under my fucking skin again. Not any more.

Let the mission begin.