She straightened, trembling with fury she couldn't afford to show, and turned on her heel.
Her heels clicked sharply against the marble as she walked away faster than she intended.
The second she disappeared around the corner, Isabella finally realized she'd been holding her breath.
Alex exhaled once hard like he'd been holding something in for years.
Then he turned to her.
His face was still thunder.
His eyes dragged over her, checking, cataloging, analyzing every spot his mother could have hurt.
"Did she touch you anywhere else?" he asked, voice low, dangerous.
"No," Isabella whispered. Her throat was tight. "I'm okay."
"Don't lie to me." His jaw clenched.
She shook her head. "I'm not lying."
His hands balled into fists anyway.
He stepped closer c but slow. Like he was fighting some instinct telling him to drag her into his arms and shield her from the whole damn world.
"You shouldn't have see that," he muttered.
"Seen what?" she whispered.
