Chapter 6 Under the Same Roof

Isabella's POV

I woke up to the sound of movement downstairs—loud, masculine voices echoing through the living room. For a moment, I forgot where I was. The ceiling above me wasn’t mine. Neither was the expensive scent in the air that musky, masculine smell that screamed money and danger.

Then it hit me. We’d moved into the Moretti mansion.

I yawned, stretching as I tried to piece everything together. The last twenty-four hours had been a blur of boxes, chauffeurs, and men in black suits who looked like they could kill someone with a glare. Apparently, Giovanni didn’t trust moving companies with his “personal possessions,” so he sent his own people to help.

Among those people? Enzo.

Or, as he now called himself, my stepbrother.

Even thinking the word made my stomach twist.

When he’d told me, “We’ll help you move safely,” his tone had been calm, but the word “safely” stuck in my head like a splinter. Safe from what? Or who? We weren’t some celebrity family being hounded by paparazzi. But the way the guards lingered near the gate and the way Enzo kept scanning the street like he expected an ambush told me there was something else going on.

Something I probably didn’t want to know.

I’d decided I’d think about it later. Preferably when my life didn’t feel like an episode of Keeping Up with the Italian Mafia.

Right now, my biggest problem was existing under the same roof as him, the man who had taken my breath, my logic, and my virginity, then casually turned into my mother’s future stepson.

“Morning,” I mumbled to myself, dragging myself downstairs. My hair was still messy, my oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder.

The house looked like a museum: tall glass windows, polished marble floors, and chandeliers that could probably pay off my student loans. I could see my reflection in the floor tiles. Everything gleamed. Everything screamed money.

As I turned the corner into the kitchen, I froze.

Because there he was.

Enzo.

Shirtless.

Leaning against the counter like some kind of Roman god, his dark hair still damp from the shower, muscles flexing with every lazy movement.

But that wasn’t what stopped me in my tracks.

It was the girl pressed up against him.

Blonde. Blue-eyed. Gorgeous.

Her laugh was breathy and annoying, like the sound of a mosquito with lip gloss.

And Enzo, the arrogant jerk had his lips on her neck.

My throat went dry.

He didn’t see me at first, which gave me just enough time to hate myself for standing there like a stalker, watching the scene unfold. Every rational part of my brain screamed, "Walk away," but my feet refused to move.

He finally looked up, and when our eyes met, his smirk deepened.

“Oh. Morning, sorellina,” he said, voice dripping with teasing warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

Sorellina. Little sister.

I wanted to throw the nearest coffee mug at his head.

“Morning?” I managed to choke out, forcing my tone into something neutral. “Didn’t realize the kitchen was… occupied.”

The blonde turned, flashing a too-bright smile the kind that said she was used to being adored. “Hi! You must be Bella,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I’m Melanie.”

Of course she was. She looked exactly like a Melanie the kind of girl who said “babe” to everyone, wore perfume that screamed expensive and exhausting, and posted gym selfies with captions like “No pain, no champagne.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a polite smile that felt more like a muscle cramp.

“Enzo’s told me all about you,” she chirped, looping her arm possessively through his.

My eyebrow twitched. “Has he?”

Enzo grinned like he was watching a show he’d paid to see. “Of course. I told her you were moving in. My little sister needs to feel at home, right?”

I could’ve sworn something cracked inside me maybe my heart, maybe my patience.

Melanie giggled, tilting her head against his shoulder like she was auditioning for a bad perfume commercial. “You’re so sweet, Enzo,” she purred, then shot me a look that could cut glass. “You’re lucky to have such a… protective brother.”

Kill me.

I crossed my arms. “Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds for breakfast.”

She smirked, her glossed lips curving just slightly. “Oh, don’t run off! We were just about to make pancakes. You can join us unless you’re watching your figure or something?”

My fake smile faltered. “No, thanks. I don’t like third-wheeling.”

Melanie’s pout was instant, perfectly practiced. “Don’t be silly. Enzo’s family, and you’re family too now.” The way she said "family" sounded more like a charity case.

“Right,” I said tightly. “Family.”

Enzo’s eyes flickered with amusement, clearly enjoying every second of this chaos. He leaned against the counter, gaze sliding over me before meeting my eyes again. “Relax, Bella,” he said, his voice low. “You look like you haven’t slept all night.”

“I slept just fine,” I shot back.

“Sure you did.”

God, I hated him. And worse I hated the way his voice made something in me tighten, how even his teasing made my pulse trip.

Melanie, still standing too close to him, laughed lightly. “You two are adorable,” she said, flipping her hair. “Like siblings who can’t stand each other, it’s kinda cute.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, turning for the door. “Something like that.”

Her laughter followed me out, sugary and smug the kind of sound that stayed under your skin long after you left the room.

Hours passed, but my brain refused to stop replaying that scene Enzo’s mouth on her skin, his smirk when he saw me, the way he called me Sorellina like it was some private joke between us.

I tried distracting myself with unpacking, but every time I picked up a book or a picture frame, my mind wandered back to him.

Why did it bother me so much?

He was nothing to me. A stranger I’d made one stupid mistake with.

So why did it feel like betrayal?

By noon, I’d given up pretending. I went downstairs again for coffee.

Enzo and Melanie were in the living room this time, laughing over something on his phone. He glanced at me as I walked by, his expression unreadable, his eyes lingering on my boobs for an uncomfortable amount of time.

Melanie, of course, smiled like I was her long-lost sister. “Bella! Come join us!”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said flatly, grabbing a mug.

Enzo’s voice followed me. “You should stay. We were just talking about plans for the weekend.”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Anything that doesn’t involve you.”

Melanie blinked. “Wow. You two really have that sibling banter thing down.”

“Yeah,” Enzo murmured, eyes locked on me. “You have no idea.”

I swallowed hard, pretending to focus on my coffee, but his gaze burned into me.

Melanie suddenly gasped. “Oh my God, I have the best idea!”

I froze. I knew that tone, it was the sound of impending disaster.

“What idea?” Enzo asked lazily, leaning back against the couch.

“We should go on a double date!” she said, clapping her hands together like a five-year-old who’d just discovered glitter.

“A what?” I choked.

She turned to me, beaming. “A double date! You and your boyfriend, and me and Enzo! It’ll be fun. You said earlier you had one, right?”

I blinked, heart stopping.

I’d said it, it was a stupid lie. I blurted out while Melanie was busy bragging about Enzo and asking her ridiculous questions. I still don’t know what possessed me to say it.

“Uh… yeah,” I said weakly.

Enzo tilted his head, eyes narrowing with quiet amusement. “You have a boyfriend?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief. He’d been on a call when I blurted out that unnecessary lie.

I forced a casual shrug. “Yep.”

“What’s his name?” he asked, voice soft but edged with danger, like he was testing me just to see how far I’d go.

“Why does it matter to you?” I shot back before I could stop myself.

There it was, that smirk. The one that said he could see straight through every word I said.

“You said it was, uh… Jason, right?” Melanie cut in brightly, lips glossy and moving way too much for someone who should’ve known when to shut up.

“Um… Jason… yeah.” The name stumbled out. It was the first one that popped into my head.

Melanie squealed, clapping her hands like this was the best news she’d heard all week. “Perfect! I’ll make the reservations. Tomorrow night!”

“Wait—” I started, but she was already typing furiously on her phone, humming some pop song under her breath.

Enzo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes gleaming like he’d just been handed a challenge. “Can’t wait to meet Jason.”

My pulse skipped.

He didn’t believe me for a second. And worse, he wasn’t going to let it slide.

Melanie looked up with that self-satisfied smile that made me want to throw something. “All set! Double date. Tomorrow. Seven sharp. Don’t be late!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Enzo said smoothly, gaze locked on me the entire time.

I swallowed, fingers tightening around my mug until my knuckles ached. My brain screamed for me to come up with an excuse, but my mouth wouldn’t move.

Then he smiled, a slow devastating smile that always managed to disarm me.

And right then, I knew it.

I was screwed. Completely, hopelessly screwed.