It had been a week since Rafael last called for her.
A week since that night,the night that left bruises on her body and something heavier inside her chest. During this time,the mansion had been quieter than usual. Rafael kept to himself, locked in his office or leaving at dawn with his guards. He rarely came down for breakfast and He hadn't spoken to her once. It wasn't as if Isabella was hoping he'd talk to her.
And yet, Isabella she stop thinking about him. Not with longing but with a strange uneasiness that lived somewhere between hatred and curiosity.
That morning, she left her room early. The air was crisp, the halls still empty but the kitchen and laundry room busy. She had been heading toward the garden when she heard it ,a steady, rhythmic sound echoing faintly from the far side of the hall.
Metal. Weight. Breath.
She followed it before she could think twice, drawn by something she didn't understand.
The mansion's private gym was large and bathed in sunlight, floor-to-ceiling windows and there in the center of it was Rafael.
He wasn't wearing his usual suit. Just dark sweatpants, his body bare from the waist up. His skin glistened faintly with sweat, muscles flexing under the sharp light as he pushed through another set of pull-ups. His movements were controlled, powerful, silent, exact, the same precision he used when ending lives or sealing deals.
His chest rose and fell steadily, breath deep, focus unbroken with a scar below his right chest. For a second, she wished she could touch it.
Isabella stopped in the doorway, unable to move.
She knew she shouldn't be there. Shouldn't be watching him. But something about seeing him stripped of his armor,no suit, no gun, no mask made her forget to breathe.
Her eyes lingered on the sculpted lines of his torso, the way his abs tightened with every movement, the faint shimmer of water clinging to his skin from the earlier shower. He looked like something straight out from a fantasy,too good to be real.
For a moment, she wondered how someone could look so human and yet feel so dangerous.
Rafael dropped the weights with a muted thud and straightened, running a towel over his neck. That was when he noticed her.
His eyes met hers through the mirror, sharp, piercing, unreadable.
Isabella gasped softly, caught like a thief in her own thoughts. She stepped back too quickly, almost tripping,"I...I'm sorry," she stammered, voice trembling.
He turned halfway, sweat still glinting across his chest. His expression didn't change, but something in his gaze lingered a second too long,not anger, not softness, just quiet recognition.
Then, just as suddenly, he looked away. "Careful," he said simply, voice low and even.
Isabella nodded quickly, her heart racing. She turned and fled down the hall, not daring to look back.
But long after she'd gone, Rafael stood by the mirror, still watching the space where she had been, jaw tight, breath unsteady as if her presence had shifted something he couldn't name.
.....
Isabella's heart was still racing long after she fled the gym. Her palms were damp, her breath shallow. She couldn't understand what had just happened or rather, what she had felt.
The sight of him, raw and unguarded, had shaken her more than any harsh word ever could. He was all strength and shadow, a man who could destroy and yet, somehow, made her heart stop and think.
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady herself, and stepped out into the garden for air, trying to distract her heart rom overthinking.
The morning sun was soft,the scent of jasmine and roses lingered, carried by a lazy breeze. For the first time in days, the mansion felt almost peaceful like the world before she knew him.
She walked slowly, her fingers brushing the petals that lined the stone path. The flowers here were vibrant, wild yet arranged with deliberate care. She wondered if Rafael even noticed them. Somehow, she doubted he did.
The farther end of the garden looked different, quieter, older. The path narrowed, and the flowers changed from bright reds and yellows to softer shades: pale lavender, white lilies, and peonies in tender blush tones. The scent here was heavier, almost nostalgic.
Something about the place felt sacred.
Isabella crouched beside a bed of peonies, their blooms heavy with dew. She smiled faintly. "You're beautiful," she whispered, reaching to pluck one.
But before her fingers brushed the stem, a hand caught her wrist.
Strong. Cold.
Her breath hitched as she looked up and found him standing over her.
Rafael.
He was still in his workout clothes, though he'd thrown on a dark shirt. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes,those sharp brown eyes were locked on her hand like it was a weapon.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was quiet but heavy, the kind that didn't need to rise to command fear.
"I… I was just...."
"Don't touch them."
The words cut through the air like steel.
Isabella blinked, confused. "I didn't know..."
"I said don't," he repeated, firmer this time. His hand still gripped her wrist, not hard enough to bruise but enough to make her pulse flutter painfully beneath his fingers.
She nodded quickly, and only then did he release her. She pulled her wrist back, cradling it against her chest. The skin tingled where he'd touched her from fear, from heat, from something she didn't know how to name.
Rafael exhaled through his nose, his gaze lingering on the peonies.
"Stay away from this part of the garden," he said, turning to leave. "You can walk anywhere else you want. But not here."
He didn't wait for her reply. The gravel crunched beneath his boots, and then he was gone, swallowed by the house's long corridors.
Isabella stood there for a long while, the breeze tugging lightly at her dress. She rubbed her wrist absently, the sting fading but the memory not.
When she finally returned to her room, Selena was there, folding clothes into the wardrobe. She looked up with a warm smile. "You're back. How was your stroll?"
Isabella hesitated. "It was… peaceful. Until I went too far."
Selena frowned. "Too far?"
"I wandered into a secluded part of the garden near the back. I saw some beautiful peonies and thought I could take one, but…" She trailed off, watching Selena's expression shift from curiosity to alarm.
Selena gasped softly. "Oh, Isabella, you didn't."
"Didn't what?"
"That part of the garden," Selena said, almost in a whisper. "You shouldn't go there. No one should."
Isabella frowned. "Why not? It's just flowers."
Selena shook her head, closing the wardrobe door. "Those flowers were planted by his mother. Every single one. El Diablo doesn't let anyone touch them not even the gardeners. He tends to them himself."
Isabella stared, shocked. "He does?"
Selena nodded. "Every week. Early in the morning on Sundays, before anyone wakes up. He cleans, waters, trims… It's the only time he looks at peace."
That image, Rafael Navarro, the man known as El Diablo, kneeling among flowers in the dawn light was something Isabella could barely comprehend.
"I didn't think he could…" she murmured, searching for the word. "Feel like that or do something like that"
Selena gave a small, knowing smile. "Even devils have ghosts, señora. Hers is the only one that still keeps him human."
The room fell silent for a moment, soft and heavy.
Then Selena's tone lightened, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Now… tell me, are you ready for our little lessons?"
Isabella laughed weakly, the sound breaking the tension. "Not today," she said, shaking her head. "After what happened, I think I've had enough lessons for one morning."
Selena chuckled, leaning against the table. "Then tomorrow. I'll make sure you're ready. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll be the one haunting his thoughts."
Isabella smiled faintly, unsure if that was a promise or a warning.
As Selena left the room, Isabella turned toward the window. The garden stretched out below, sunlight casting softly on the flowers making her yearn to touch them.
For the first time, she realized that beneath Rafael's armor of cruelty and control, there might still live a man who once loved something deeply enough to protect it.
And she couldn't help but wonder,what would happen to her if he ever decided she belonged in that same part of his heart.