Chapter 67

Her words hit him like a slap and for a moment, something flickered in his expression—guilt, regret, maybe even shame. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold, unyielding mask he always wore.

He stood there in silence, his gaze heavy as Isabella's words hung in the air. He didn't answer immediately, instead letting his eyes roam her face—searching for something, perhaps, or merely buying time.

“Leo,” Isabella pressed, stepping closer, her voice soft yet insistent. “You can't keep avoiding this. Just tell me.”

Her persuasion seemed to have him but yet, he didn't flinch, not yet. Instead, he sighed, his expression softening for the briefest moments. His hand moves almost instinctively, his fingers grazing her chin and sliding gently along her cheek. The touch was fleeting, like a whisper but it was enough to still the air between them.

Isabella froze, her breath catching. The unexpected tenderness left her momentarily unguarded and she leaned into his hand, pressing her cheek against his fingers. Her eyes closed briefly as if savoring a moment she hadn't dared to dream of.

“Leo,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Please… tell me. Do you feel anything for me? Do I even matter to you?”

For a moment, Leo looked as though he might say nothing. His thumb lingered against her cheekbone, the warmth of his touch belying the coldness in his eyes. Then he sighed, a deep, reluctant sound, and pulled his hand back as though burned.

“It doesn't matter,” he said finally, his voice low. “My father owns you, Isabella. You know that. You're his…” He paused as he wagged his head, the word bitter on his tongue. “...his property.”

The words hit Isabella like a slap. She took a step back, her lips parting in shock, but her reaction was not one of anger. Instead, she shook her head, a dry, bitter laugh escaping her.

“His property,” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. “Is that all I am to you, Leo? Just something he owns? Something you can't touch?”

Leo's silence was damning. He didn't look away from her, but he bit his lips, the tension in his posture speaking volumes.

Isabella inhaled deeply, forcing herself to stay calm. “You didn't answer my question,” she said, her voice softer now but no less determined. “Do you like me? Or is it just Lucy that's on your mind?”

At the mention of Lucy's, his expression darkened. His eyes shifted with something less understood by someone else—guilt, anger, longing—but he quickly masked it.

“Isabella,” he began, his voice tired, as if the weight of the conversation was crushing him. “It's not as simple as that.”

“Don't do that,” she interrupted, stepping forward again. “Don't give me excuses. Don't pretend this is too complicated to talk about. Just tell me the truth. Do you like me or not?”

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity. Finally, with a deep exhale, he nodded. “I like you,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Isabella's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she didn't know how to deal. Then a slow, tentative smile spread across her face. “You do,” she said, almost to herself, as if the words needed to be heard aloud to be believed.

Leo nodded again but said nothing more. The vulnerability in his admission made him seem almost fragile, a stark contrast to the usual wall of stoicism he wore so well.

“Do you trust me?” Isabella asked, her voice soft but insistent. “Because if you do, I'll do anything to help you. Anything. You want to become the Alpha, don't you? Let me help you. Let me make it happen.”

Leo's gaze hardened slightly, his walls rebuilding themselves even as she spoke. She stepped back, creating a small but noticeable distance between them. “You don't understand what you're saying,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“I do,” Isabella argued, stepping forward again to close the gap. “You need allies, Leo and all you've got is Ethan. Ethan is not enough. You need people who are willing to fight for you. And you know I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you win.”

Her conviction startled him, though he didn't show it. Instead, he looked away. “And why would you do that?” he asked after a moment, his voice cold. “The Isabella I know would not do anything without benefiting from it… what do you gain from it?”

“I gain you,” Isabella said simply, her eyes locking onto his. “And isn't that enough?”

Leo didn't respond immediately. His silence was loud, oppressive as though he were trying to decide whether her offer was genuine or just another play. But deep down, he knew Isabella was nothing if not relentless. When she wanted something, she pursued it with single minded determination.

Leo was about to say a word but just then, Isabella spoke up, her voice soft but deliberate, each word carrying an edge of vulnerability.

“I've been drawn to you since the first time I saw you,” she said, her eyes searching his face. “But there was nothing I could do. I was brought here to be… to be his. Your father's.”

Her confession hung heavy in the air, each word slicing through Leo's defenses. His lips parted as if to respond but nothing came out. Memories flashed in his mind—the first time he saw her, how she'd seemed untouchable, forbidden. He had felt it too, that pull toward her but he's buried it, deep and far away. How could he act on something so wrong, so dangerous?

Isabella stepped closer, her presence overpowering the space between them. Her fingers, soft and deliberate, trailed along his arm, tracing the thick veins that stood out beneath his skin. Leo's breath hitched as her touch sent a shiver down his spine.

“You're strong,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to where her fingers lingered. “And I've always known you would be something greater than anyone here imagined. I wanted to be by your side, Leo, from the beginning. But how could I? How could I, when I was nothing more than a mistress?”

Leo's jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to her fingers as they moved slowly, reverently. He hated that she had been brought into his world this way, hated that she was tied to his father. And yet, part of him still wanted her, still felt that unshakeable pull.

“I…” He started, but the words faltered, stuck in his throat.

Isabella stepped closer, their bodies almost touching. Her voice dropped to a near whisper, trembling slightly. “I've tried to show you, Leo. In every way I could. That I'm here for you. That I'll always support you. And all I hope… is that one day, you'll see only me.”

Her lips brushed his cheek before moving to his mouth, leaving a feather light kiss on his lips. It wasn't a kiss of urgency, but one of promise, her gaze locking onto his the moment she pulled back. Her eyes were full of longing, of hope.

Leo's chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths, his gaze fixed on her. Her words, her touch, everything about this moment—he knew it was dangerous. But for the first time in a long while, he let himself feel. His hand rose, almost instinctively, cupping her cheek.

“Isabella…” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl.

Her breath hitched and she leaned into his touch, her lips parting slightly. She tilted her head, inching closer, her eyes half-lidded with desire. Leo's thumb brushed her cheekbone as he leaned in, drawn to her in a way that defied all reasons he shouldn't be with her.

Their lips were a whisper away when the door burst open, slamming against the wall.

“Leo!”

The voice shattered the moment like glass hitting the floor. Leo and Isabella froze, their eyes snapping to the doorway.