Isabella closed the door to her room with a soft click. The hallway behind her was silent, swallowed by the vastness of Ashwell Mansion. Her room, unlike any she had ever seen before, seemed almost unreal. Soft cream walls, gold detailing curling like vines, and a grand canopy bed draped in pale ivory curtains. Candle sconces glowed with warm amber light, and fresh white lilies perfumed the air. She stood in the center of the room, slowly turning in place, trying to believe she was truly here.
"This… is just a guest room?" she whispered to herself.
Her father's room was elegant, Leo's was impressive, but hers—hers felt like it belonged to someone royal. She sat at the edge of the bed, running her fingers across the velvet blanket.Everything was too perfect, too soft, too carefully arranged.
Why us? Why this mansion? Why this invitation?
She lay back, staring up at the carved wooden canopy above her, thinking of what tomorrow might hold.Exploring Italy.Meeting the mysterious hosts.Learning whose wedding they were here for. She imagined polite greetings, polite smiles—But the thought was shadowed by curiosity. And curiosity felt like gravity here. Something pulling her deeper. Eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and she drifted into sleep. The night was silent. Until it wasn't. At some unknown hour, Isabella stirred—just slightly—before realizing she wasn't alone.
Warmth.Behind her.
A body pressed close, chest against her back. An arm wrapped securely around her waist, fingers resting against the curve of her hip, gentle yet possessive.Breathing—slow, steady—right behind her ear. Her heart froze. She didn't move. She didn't breathe. She knew she wasn't dreaming.
But she was terrified to open her eyes.Terrified, and yet…
The hold around her wasn't aggressive. A slow exhale brushed her neck, warm against her skin. Her lips parted, but no sound came. She stayed completely still. And the world stayed silent. When morning light spilled across the room, Isabella woke with a gasp.
She was alone.
The blankets untouched except her side. The room perfectly still. The door still locked. Had she imagined it? She ran a hand over her face, trying to steady her breathing.
"It was just a dream," she whispered."It had to be."
But then— She caught her reflection in the mirror. Her breath stopped.
There, on the side of her neck, just below her jaw—a dark, unmistakable mark. Soft in color.
Oval. A love bite. Her fingers trembled as they touched it.
"No…" she breathed."That's impossible…"
Because she had never met him. But someone had been in that room.
Someone who wanted her close. Someone who had held her like he had the right. Someone who left a mark as if claiming something— Elijah Ashwell. Though she didn't know his name yet. She only knew one thing: She didn't dream it.
Someone had been there. And he would return.