Isabella's POV
The sun was an intruder. It spilled across the cream-colored silk sheets of the oversized bed, mocking me with its warmth. I sat up, my head throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache. For a split second, the luxury of the room, the hand-carved molding, the velvet curtains, the faint scent of expensive jasmine, tricked my brain into thinking I was safe.
Then the memories slowly emerged into my conscious mind.
I swung my legs off the bed, my feet sinking into a rug so plush it felt like it wanted to swallow me whole. I rushed to the window, throwing back the heavy drapes. The view was breathtaking, sprawling emerald lawns and a fountain that danced in the light. But at the edge of the perimeter, I saw them. Men in dark suits, standing like stone sentinels. They weren't looking at the horizon; they were looking at the house. At me.
I pushed the curtains back. Grabbing new clothes, I hopped into the shower.
I was hungry, so I headed out of the room.
