Cleo’s POV They both froze, their heads turning toward me like deer caught in headlights. Isabelle slowly stepped away, brushing her hands down her dress as if that could erase the intimacy I’d just witnessed. Russo looked at me, his face blank, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the faint flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Cleo…” he started, his voice low and careful. “Listen, Cleo,” Isabelle said, recovering faster than him. “We were just….” “Just what?” I interrupted, crossing my arms. “Saying goodbye? Or professing love to each other?” Russo stepped forward, his hand outstretched as if to placate me. “Calm down, Cleo. It’s not what it looks like…” I held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. “Don’t, Russo. Don’t insult my intelligence.” My voice was calm, but inside, I felt like a storm was brewing. Isabelle let out a breathless laugh, her confidence creeping back. “Cleo, you’re overreacting. It was just a hug.” “A hug?” I repeated, my tone icy. “Funny, I’ve never
Last Updated : 2025-01-21 Read more