Enrico's voice grew clipped as he ended the call, the tension in his features betraying the weight of whatever had been discussed. He pocketed his phone, then turned toward Isabella, his gaze softening slightly but not losing its intensity.
"I have to deal with some business," he said, his voice low, though the frustration was evident. "Something's come up, and I won't be back tonight."
Isabella's brow furrowed with concern, but before she could ask any questions, Enrico stepped closer, brushing his thumb gently along her jawline. "You should go back to the penthouse. Your mother’s there. I don’t want you being alone."
She hesitated for a moment, studying his face, trying to read between the lines. “Is everything alright?” she asked quietly, her hand resting on his chest. The closeness
