The Godfather’s Forsaken Rose Chapter 16
Back in his luxury hotel suite, Dominic dropped heavily onto the sofa.
Outside the window, the city glittered with light, but none of it reached his dark, storm-heavy eyes.
He did not sleep that night.
The scene at the airport replayed in his mind again and again.
Isabella looking at him through her sunglasses as if he were no more than a passerby.
The natural intimacy between her and Adrian Castellano.
Adrian’s deliberately provocative raised brow before he drove away.
Every detail pricked Dominic’s nerves like poison needles, stirring up a pain he could barely tolerate.
And panic.
Yes.
Panic.
An icy, unfamiliar panic flooded him, completely beyond his control.
He could not bear the way Isabella had looked at him. He could not bear seeing another man stand beside her, one who seemed so perfectly in step with her that he might already have taken a place in her heart.
That unfamiliar emotion made him irritable, and almost ashamed.
He stood abruptly, crossed to the liquor cabinet, poured a glass of strong whiskey, and swallowed it in one gulp.
The burn slid down his throat, but it could not put out the fire in his chest.
He picked up his phone and called his deputy. His voice was hoarse from a sleepless night and cold with restrained anger.
“Find Isabella Moretti’s address in Upper Manhattan. Her schedule for the next week. Everything. And Adrian Castellano. I want to know what he’s been doing for the last three years and what his relationship with Isabella really is. The more detailed, the better. Fast.”
After giving the order, he paced the room like a trapped animal, waiting.
Every minute stretched too long.
A few hours later, the deputy called back with a careful report.
Isabella’s address and itinerary were listed one by one.
The information on Adrian Castellano made Dominic’s heart sink even further.
Adrian came from a prominent family and was undeniably capable, but he had always had a reckless, unruly reputation. In their circles, he was known as a playboy.
Yet after Isabella left the United States three years ago, that notorious playboy had apparently changed almost overnight. He shifted much of his career to Europe and settled in Paris.
As an investor, he quietly opened doors for Isabella. He used his connections and resources to help her gain a foothold in fashion and film.
For three years, he had remained at her side almost like a guardian. Publicly, they were called close friends. Privately, no one could agree whether they were already lovers or only one step away.
“Close friends?”
Dominic ended the call with a cold laugh, his eyes dark and dangerous.
There was no such thing as a pure friendship between a man and a woman.
Adrian’s intentions were obvious.
And Isabella had allowed that man to stand so close to her.
Hostility and a sense of crisis, sharp as a snake, coiled around Dominic’s heart.
For the first time, he truly hated the name Adrian Castellano.
And for the first time, he felt something he did not want to admit.
Jealousy.
He wanted to see Isabella.
Badly.
A week later, the opportunity arrived.
His deputy reported that Isabella would attend an after-party for a top luxury brand’s runway show.
Dominic used his connections to get an invitation.
The party was held at a historic Sicilian manor. The guests were dressed in silk and diamonds, moving through pools of golden light with glasses of wine in hand.
The moment Dominic entered, his gaze searched the room like a weapon and locked onto the one figure who stood out even among stars.
Isabella wore a royal-blue velvet gown that made her skin look almost luminous. Her figure was elegant, her presence impossible to ignore.
She was speaking with several internationally known directors and producers. Calm, poised, fluent as she moved between French and English, she carried a confident authority completely different from the proud yet vulnerable girl he had known three years ago.
Dominic watched her through the crowd, feeling something tighten around his heart.
He waited until she seemed tired and stepped alone onto the terrace overlooking the garden.
Now.
He followed her.
The night air on the terrace was cool. Isabella leaned against the railing, looking out at the lake glittering in the distance. In the moonlight, her profile looked cold and lonely.
Dominic stopped behind her, close enough to catch the faint trace of her perfume. It was cool, unfamiliar, nothing like the scent in his memories.
He drew a breath, forced down the turmoil in his chest, and spoke with the same habitual, condescending tone he had once used without thinking.
“What’s going on between you and Adrian Castellano?”