Isabella Hawthorne
Uncertainty washed over me.
"Help me be ready?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. What exactly did he mean by that? His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities.
Suddenly, compelled by a strange urge, I lifted my gaze and truly looked at him. Really looked at him. Thankfully, unlike yesterday, his broad chest wasn't threateningly close, thanks to a loose button-down shirt that concealed his powerful physique, though the way the fabric clung to his form did little to hide the sculpted muscles beneath. He was impossibly tall, towering over me like a formidable yet captivating statue.
The realization of his physical dominance sent a tremor through me, a mix of fear and a strange kind of thrill. I took an involuntary step back, my movement
