Luciano walked slowly to the edge of his bed. His robe still hung open, but his expression was now unreadable. He reached for the small black remote resting beside the wine glass. With a soft click, the heavy door across the room unlocked and creaked open.
Isla didn't wait. She didn't even glance back.
She darted out of the room like a hunted animal, heart thudding in her chest. Her breaths were short, sharp. She didn't stop. Didn't slow. She just needed to get away—from his voice, his eyes, his hands.
The corridor was quiet. The flickering torchlights cast eerie shadows along the walls as she rushed past them, clutching the edges of her half-buttoned shirt. Her thoughts were wild. Her skin still burned from his touch.
She turned the corner—
—and collided hard into someone.
A sharp gasp left her lips as she stumbled backward.
"Watch it," a cold voice snapped.
Isla's heart sank.
It was Calista. And she wasn't alone.
