Isabella turned on her side to face him. Even in the dim light filtering through the curtains, she could see his dark eyes watching her with that intensity that never seemed to fade.
"Can't sleep," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.
"Neither can I." His hand found hers under the silk sheets, his fingers warm against her cold skin. "Want to tell me what really happened tonight?"
Isabella's heart clenched. The tenderness in his voice, the way his thumb traced circles on her palm—it made lying to him feel like swallowing glass.
"I told you." She forced herself to hold his gaze. "Just tired."
Matteo sat up, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand with deliberate slowness. Soft light flooded the room, making Isabella blink and squint. When her eyes adjusted, she found him studying her with an intensity that made her stomach flip.
