Page 68 of Accidental Alliance

I shove at his chest. “Get off me.”

“Isabella—”

“Off.”

His expression flickers but he obeys and pulls out slowly. His hands frame my face for a second longer, thumbs brushing my cheeks with a gentleness that feels like a lie. I shove at him again until he finally stands.

His cock twitches at his hips, still glistening from my slick coating him. I sit up and wince slightly as the burn between my legs pinches.

“This changes nothing,” I whisper, tears I refuse to shed burning behind my eyes. “I want my son. Bring him to me or I will never open my mouth and talk again. You can kiss trying to figure out whatever the hell you think I know goodbye.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs my face in a tight enough hold that I can’t jerk away from and presses one last bruising kiss to my swollen lips.

“We will see,” he murmurs against my mouth.

He steps back, tucking himself back into his pants and straightening his clothes. He picks mine up off the floor and tosses them onto the cot next to me. He leaves without another word, the door locking behind him with brutal finality.

I slide off the cot on shaky legs and pull my clothes back on.

God, what the hell is wrong with me? The fragile balance we have been fighting to maintain has shattered completely. Our love is a wound that has never healed.

What hope do we have for separation when every attempt at distance only drags us closer together?

When every time we try to walk away, something inside us breaks enough that we end up running straight back?

It is a cycle neither of us can endure anymore, yet both of us are helpless to escape it.

13

ISABELLA

Hours later, the lock disengaging from the door pulls me out of a restless sleep.

I jolt awake before I fully understand why, my hand already reaching toward empty space next to me like Matteo might somehow be sleeping beside me.

For one disoriented second, the old panic blooms fresh and black in my chest when I feel the space next to me is completely cold.

Then memory returns.

I blink blearily and force myself upright, my body stiff from the thin mattress pad beneath me, if it can even be called that.

It is little more than a strip of foam pretending to offer a soft landing pad for me to pass out on for a few hours in between pacing.

I can feel every hard line of the metal frame underneath it, every bar and seam pressed into my hip and shoulder.

When I finally sit up, my shoulders pop in protest, and pain rolls down my spine in a dull wave.

The door swings open and I blink at the sight of one of Elio’s guards standing in the doorway, his expression impassive in that blank, trained way that is typical of their soldiers.

Even without asking him, I already know it is too early for breakfast. The hallway behind him is dimly lit, still caught somewhere between night and dawn.

As soon as I notice there is no tray in his hands, I immediately know something is wrong. Or something is finally happening.

I swing my legs over the edge of the cot and push myself to my feet, every muscle bracing for whatever it is I’m about to be put through.

“What is it?” I start to ask.

Before I even get the full sentence out, the guard shifts slightly to grab something from behind him.