7- Luxury, Locks and Locked Hearts

POV Isabella:

Restless, I glanced around—no idea where, just looking. And then I saw it—the smile that appeared when our eyes met.

Holy shit. I leaned back, smiling too, wondering what I’d done to deserve this gift from the universe. Of all the things I’d imagined, this hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d given up on seeing him again. But forgetting how much he’d affected me? That I couldn’t do.

I thought about getting up and talking to him. Why not?

I glanced at Mom—too busy with Aunt Paula to notice the exchange—then back at him, catching his lips twitch before parting slightly, as if forming a word. Decided, I stood. So did he.

"Dominic, did I keep you waiting?" A woman approached, kissing his cheek. But she didn’t take the empty seat—the executive guided her out of the restaurant, avoiding another glance at me.

I stood frozen, watching them leave. Still in disbelief, I downed the last of my wine, half-expecting him to return—without the woman, without Ellen Castiel, my boss.

Later, we went home exhausted. I locked myself in my room under the guise of organizing my new clothes. Mom—no fool—had noticed my sudden mood shift after leaving the restaurant. The whole thing was weird, and I couldn’t understand why I was so angry about seeing Dominic—someone I’d never even spoken to—running into him casually (which I’d hoped for, God), with my direct superior.

What a beautiful man, I made sure to remember. He looked so casual in that white sweater.

What’s their relationship? Dating? I wondered, hanging up a top.

And how is he connected to WUC? A client? Executive?

Though I hadn’t seen him in the administrative building, everything pointed to Dominic being involved with the company—or rather, with Ellen. Probably dating, or at least getting to know each other, given the quick peck on the cheek.

They looked perfect together.

"Isabella…" No use—she walked in without knocking. "Everything okay?"

"Yeeeah," I said, sliding the hanger onto the rack, waiting for Dona Ana to explain why she’d interrupted my brooding. "What’s up?" I asked at her silent, pleading look. "That face… You want money? Sorry, I’m broke—you’re the businesswoman here," I joked. She smiled briefly, then turned serious. "Mom, what’s wrong?"

She leaned against the dresser before speaking—or rather, annoying me.

"Your aunt and uncle invited us to dinner tomorrow," she said slowly. I arched a brow. "I accepted… for both of us."

"I’m not going. You know that, right?"

"Isabella, enough with this hatred. Move on—"

"Excuse me? Are you kidding me, Mom?"

"No, we’re family!"

"We’re what?" The room felt airless.

"Sweetheart, I know Melissa messed up, but we all make mistakes—"

I threw the blouse I was about to hang onto the bed.

"You want me to forgive her? Is that what this dinner’s about?" My voice cracked.

"No! She wants to introduce her boyfriend to the family."

"I AM NOT HER FAMILY!" I screamed, storming into the bathroom.

"Don’t yell at me, Isabella!" she snapped. "Enough of this bullshit!"

I rolled my stinging eyes and turned on the shower, stripping and tossing my clothes in the hamper.

Those bastards weren’t satisfied with humiliating me—now they wanted to rub a boyfriend in my face, as if that erased what that bitch did to me. I couldn’t swallow it. Wouldn’t accept it. I dunked my head under the hot water, trying to wash away the tension, but no—the memory played vividly.

Melissa and I were practically raised together—though not with the same privileges, since my uncle was a wealthy businessman and Mom struggled. The princess had everything: trips, designer clothes, a beautiful house, while I had what we could afford—and I never complained. Despite the class difference, we had what I thought was a real friendship—until I found her naked in bed with Caio, my boyfriend.

"Isabella, let it go. You’ve overcome so much," Mom said. "Now show them you’re better than this."

That made me think: better. Maybe I should show them I was fine—no longer the pitiful girl they could walk all over, the resentful one over the princess’s mistake.

Fuck it.

I finished my shower and returned to the room, where Mom stood guard. If there was one thing that sent me to hell, it was Dona Ana’s persistence—impossible to compete with the tiny woman’s persuasion. I put on pajamas and lay down, her impatient energy radiating by the door.

"Fine. I’ll go," I declared, then turned off the lamp.