Morning arrived with soft light spilling through Isabella's curtains, but her mind was already somewhere else — on the smooth, cold stare of grey eyes and the warmth she felt when she tied a small friendship band on a dangerous stranger's hand.
She brushed her hair slowly, the ends curling slightly from the night's dampness.
Her red and gold embroidery saree lay folded neatly on the bed for the charity event.
Today mattered — not because of the audience, not even for the applause — but because the children she danced for deserved hope.
And for once, she wanted her performance to be perfect.
---
The Charity Hall — Evening
The hall glittered under soft chandeliers, decorated with marigold strings, white jasmine, and golden drapes. The crowd buzzed with wealthy donors and social workers, but the atmosphere warmed the moment Isabella entered.
She wore a soft red saree with gold embroidery, pleats perfect, ghungroos tied firmly at her ankles.
Her hair flowed in soft waves down her back, chestnut strands catching every beam of light.
People paused mid-conversation just to look at her.
But one gaze — sharp, unblinking, hidden in the shadows of the balcony — watched her with something far darker than admiration.
Leo Romano.
He didn't sit among the guests.
He leaned against the high balcony railing, coat open, shirt black, a shadow carved in human shape.
His eyes never left her.
---
Backstage–
Isabella inhaled, placing her hand on her stomach as she calmed her breath.
"You'll be amazing," a beautiful sister in her 50s whispered, squeezing her hand. She was the sister that took care of the orphanage and of those children too.
Isa smiled. "I hope the kids like it and others too."
"They'll love it." Sister Marie assured her.
But as Isabella stepped onto the stage, her gaze drifted — almost unconsciously — to the upper shadows.
And she froze for the smallest second.
Grey eyes.
Watching.
Again.
Her heart stumbled.
Her lips parted.
But then the music began.
---
Soft sitar notes filled the hall, followed by the beat of the tabla rising like a heartbeat.
Isabella moved slowly at first — each gesture deliberate, elegant.
Her arms curved like a painting coming alive.
Her ghungroos rang in perfect rhythm, the sound weaving through the music in silver threads.
The audience watched with awe.
But Leo?
Leo watched like a starving man who had finally found something he didn't know he'd been craving.
Her movements weren't just dance.
They were surrender.
Passion.
Devotion.
And he felt each one like a strike to his chest.
Her eyes closed, lashes sweeping her cheeks.
Her hips swayed with grace.
Her bare feet tapped lightning across the polished floor.
Leo's fingers gripped the railing until his knuckles whitened.
What was she doing to him?
---
When the final spin ended with her body falling gracefully to one knee, the crowd erupted into applause — loud, overwhelming.
But Isabella's gaze instantly lifted.
To the balcony.
He was still there.
Still watching.
Her breath caught.
---
After the PerformanceDonations were announced one by one.
10 thousand.
25 thousand.
70 thousand.
People clapped politely.
Then the announcer paused, eyes widening as he read the next slip.
"An anonymous donation of…Seventy-five million."
The hall gasped.
Whispers broke out instantly.
Isabella's heart froze.
That was—
That was insane.
Who…?
She excused herself politely and rushed behind the stage, her anklets ringing frantically. She caught the coordinator by the table.
"Who submitted this?" she whispered urgently, pointing at the number.
The woman blinked.
"I don't know, dear. It came in with a single signature—someone in the balcony, I think. He left right after giving it."
Isabella's breath hitched.
Balcony.
Her steps moved before her mind did.
-----
The balcony lights had dimmed now.
People had moved away.
It was almost empty.
Almost.
Isabella turned the corner—
And collided straight into a hard chest.
Strong hands steadied her waist before she could fall.
Her eyes lifted—Straight into him. Leo.
Tall.
Unreadable.
Dark suit glowing under the faint golden lights.
Grey eyes locked with hers like he'd been waiting.
Her breath vanished. "You—"
He tilted his head slightly, one brow raising.
"You were looking for me?"
Her heartbeat thrashed."I… I just wanted to know… Did you… donate all that money?"
A smirk ghosted his lips.
Not playful.
Not kind.
Possessive.
"Does it matter?"
"It—of course it matters!" she whispered.
"Then yes."
Her lips parted in shock.
"Why?"
Leo stepped closer, lowering his voice until it brushed against her skin.
"You danced."
Her heart jumped.
"That's all?"
He leaned in — not touching her, not yet — but close enough that she felt heat radiating from him.
"Isabella," he murmured, and her name sounded sinful in his voice,
"I don't spend money on things that don't… affect me."
Her breath trembled.
He was too close, too intense, too dangerous.
And yet…
She didn't step back.
---