Chapter 4 He is My Brother!

Isabella’s POV

“Bella mia.”

The voice slid down my spine like silk and danger. My breath caught as I turned around, praying I was wrong.

I wasn’t.

He stood there, the stranger from that night. The man I swore I’d never see again.

For a moment, my brain refused to connect the dots. The same dark hair, the same storm-gray eyes that had burned into me under the club lights. But he looked sharper now, colder, like the man from that night had been just a fragment of him, and this was the real version.

“Y-you…” My voice faltered. “What are you doing here?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but there was no warmth in it. “I could ask you the same thing, Bella.”

He took a step closer, and every instinct in my body screamed at me to move, to say something, anything, but my tongue felt heavy.

Behind me, I heard Mom’s laughter drift faintly from the dining area. Reality crashed down like cold water.

My mother was here. Giovanni was here.

And He….

God.

“Don’t tell me you’re following me now,” I said, trying to sound unaffected.

He let out a quiet chuckle, low and rich, the kind that made my pulse stutter. “If I were following you, sweetheart, I wouldn’t have let you run off that morning without saying goodbye.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I took a sharp breath. “I didn’t run.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes darkening. “Then what would you call disappearing before sunrise, hmm?”

“I—” I faltered, then lifted my chin. “I had my reasons.”

He leaned against the wall beside me, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Let me guess. Regret?”

“Reality,” I shot back. “And whatever that was, it was one night. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Didn’t it?” His voice dipped lower, teasing, almost dangerous. “Because I still remember the sound you made when I kissed your neck. The way you—”

“Stop,” I snapped before he could finish, my face burning. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us, thick and electric. Then, his smirk faded, and something softer flashed in his eyes. It was something I couldn’t name.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quietly. “But I’m not sorry we met.”

My throat tightened. “You should be.”

I didn’t need anyone to confirm it. The man I’d spent one reckless night with was Giovanni Moretti’s son, and I knew he was also aware.

The man who, in less than a week, would become my stepbrother.

The air felt thin. I could almost hear my sanity cracking.

I didn’t have anything to say. Maybe I had too much, but not now. So I walked away toward the table, and he followed me.

“Lorenzo,” Giovanni’s voice snapped me out of it.

“There you are.” He added immediately that he spotted us approaching the table.

Lorenzo—that was his name. It hit me then that I hadn’t even known it until that moment.

Lorenzo straightened immediately, mask slipping into place. The warmth from his eyes vanished, replaced by something cool and distant. It was quite unreadable.

He nodded at his father. “Papà.”

The casual way he said it made my stomach twist.

Jane turned toward him, smiling wide. “Oh, so this is your son! Lorenzo, right?”

Lorenzo’s gaze flickered to her, then back to me. A heartbeat stretched between us, heavy and unspoken.

“Yes,” he said simply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Pleasure’s all ours,” my mom chirped, completely oblivious to the silent chaos unraveling inside me.

I forced a smile, though my throat felt dry.

The restaurant was too quiet; I wished he didn’t book the whole damn thing. The candlelight was too soft.

I kept my eyes fixed on the menu, pretending to read. But I could feel his gaze brushing my skin, teasing, challenging.

I didn’t dare look up.

“So, Isabella,” Giovanni started, “Lorenzo mentioned you’re a student?”

He mentioned me? The glass in my hand almost slipped. He knew his father was going to be my father, and he let me… make such a stupid mistake. Was this guy normal? He was so chill.

I looked up then, and Lorenzo’s lips curved slightly as if daring me to ask what exactly he’d told his father.

“Uh, yes,” I managed. “College student. Science major.”

“Ah,” Giovanni said, lifting his glass of wine. “Smart and beautiful. Jane, your daughter is impressive.”

Mom beamed, practically glowing. I wanted to sink into the floor.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “She gets that from me.”

Lorenzo chuckled under his breath. The sound sent a shiver through me.

I ignored it, stabbing at the air with my fork.

They kept talking. Giovanni is charming, Mom is laughing too loudly, and Lorenzo is silent but observant. The longer it went on, the more suffocating it became.

The tension between me and Lorenzo was thick enough to choke on. I could feel it every time his leg brushed mine under the table, every time his gaze flickered in my direction, studying me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved once but wanted to try again.

“So, Lorenzo,” my mom said suddenly, smiling too brightly, “what do you do?”

He glanced up, slow and deliberate. “I handle some of my father’s business affairs.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “Family working together—that's how success lasts.”

I caught the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but something in my gut told me his version of business wasn’t exactly clean.

Giovanni raised his glass. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” my mom echoed.

Lorenzo’s eyes flicked to mine as he clinked glasses. I didn’t raise mine. I couldn’t. My stomach was in knots.

Dinner dragged on, filled with polite laughter and unspoken words. I picked at my food, too aware of the man sitting beside me, too aware of the heat that pulsed beneath my skin every time our eyes met.

When dessert arrived, I’d lost all appetite.

Mom and Giovanni seemed wrapped in their own little bubble, hands brushing, eyes locked. I wanted to be happy for her—God knows she deserved to smile—but something about Giovanni’s charm felt off. Too perfect, he was too polished. His demeanor seemed rehearsed.

And every time he smiled, that faint mark on his neck caught the light. The same symbol I’d seen before.

A cold feeling crept into my chest.

I forced myself to look away, focusing instead on the man who’d ruined my peace.

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, relaxed and confident. But I caught the flicker of something in his eyes—regret, maybe? Or guilt? Whatever it was, it didn’t belong to a man at ease.

The rest of the meal passed in silence.

By the time it ended, I could finally breathe again. The night air outside was cool, sharp against my flushed skin.

“Thank you for coming,” Giovanni said as we reached the car. “I hope we’ll all be seeing much more of each other.”

Mom giggled like a teenager. “Of course, Giovanni. We’d love that.”

I didn’t respond.

The drive home was quiet—just the faint hum of the car and my mother humming some love song under her breath. I had a lot to say, but I kept it in because of the chauffeur.

When we finally got inside, she turned to me with a dreamy smile. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Wonderful?” I repeated, incredulous. “Mom, you’ve known him for what—three weeks?”

She frowned. “Don’t start, Bella.”

“I’m serious,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “Something about him feels… wrong. And that son of his—”

“Lorenzo,” she interrupted. “He’s polite and charming.”

“He’s dangerous,” I snapped before I could stop myself.

Her brows furrowed. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not! You barely know him, Mom. You always do this—you fall too fast and then—”

She was talking like she knew something and didn't want to tell.

“Enough!” she said, her voice rising. “I’m tired of your judgment, Bella. You don’t get to tell me who to love.”

“I’m not telling you who to love!” My voice cracked. “I’m just asking you to see what’s right in front of you.”

She shook her head, disappointment clouding her face. “You sound just like your father.”

That stung more than I expected.

For a second, neither of us spoke. Then she turned away. “Good night, Isabella.”

The slam of her door echoed through the house like a final verdict.

I stood there, heart pounding, anger fading into something heavier; it was fear.

Hours later, I was still awake. The house was silent, the world outside wrapped in moonlight. I couldn’t shake the unease crawling under my skin.

That mark on Giovanni’s neck… I’d seen it before. Not only in dreams, somewhere real.

I reached for my phone, the glow of the screen cutting through the darkness. My fingers hovered before I typed the words:

Black snake tattoo symbol.

The results loaded in seconds.

And then my breath hitched.