Isabella’s POV
First thing I saw when Enzo grabbed my waist and drew me in toward him was the warmth of his hands. We were standing in the shadow of his office, the low light sharply contrasting his face—those blue eyes, that sculpted jawline, the lips much too perfect to let me forget the reasons I disliked him.
How my body responded to him disgusted me. My body resisted listening, no matter how many times I told myself that this was all a game to him—a game of power and control.
"Isabella...!" His voice sounded low, harsh around the margins, as if he were struggling to control something more fundamental. "You cannot keep fleeing this."
His breath made me shudder on my neck, and as his hands went up to the small of my back, dragging me flush against him. Unquestionably, the heat radia
