The guard rushed over, pulling Carmen to her feet, his grip firm but not unkind. Carmen’s knees wobbled beneath her, her body shaking from the shock and adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She glanced at Enrico, hoping, begging, for him to show concern for her injuries. After all, she was the one bleeding, the one who had been attacked. But when their eyes met, Enrico’s expression remained hard, distant, unreadable.
His gaze flicked back to Isabella, who was panting with fury, still trying to break free from his grip. His hand remained steady on her waist, holding her tightly as though she might lunge again at any moment. There was a hint of protectiveness in his stance, a subtle concern in the way he restrained Isabella, but none of it was directed toward Carmen.
Her heart sank
