❛❛She was the voice that calmed the storm in him❞
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"Ti amo." his voice was barey above a whisper as placed a soft kiss on my forehead.
Dante held me in his arms, his fingers brushing through my hair.
My heart fluttered. "I love you m...
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I S A B E L L A
I was curled up in bed, half-asleep, when I heard the soft knock at the door.
Since when does lucia knock?
Oh wait.
I'm staying at Dante's penthouse. That makes much more sense.
"Isabella," Dante called, his tone gentler than usual. "Come on, breakfast is ready."
Breakfast? My eyes blinked open. Dante cooked?
I should refuse. I don't deserve it.
"I'm not hungry," replied groggily, pulling the blanket tighter around me.
"Too bad," he said, amusement visible in his words. "I didn't spend all morning cooking just to eat alone. Five minutes. If you're not in the kitchen by then, I'm carrying you there myself."
Wait.
Did he cook for me?
Nope, did he really?
No.
What if he did cook it for me?
Oh god I need to stop thinking about this.
A small smile tugged at my lips. His persistence was oddly amusing. With a sigh, I shuffled out of bed, threw on a hoodie I borrowed from him, and padded barefoot to the kitchen.
The sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks. The marble counters were lined with plates of food-pancakes, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and even a small stack of pastries.
Dante stood by the stove, shirtless.
God damn. I can already feel myself becoming a tomato.
"You made all this?" I asked, leaning against the doorway.
He turned, a faint smirk on his lips. "Don't sound so surprised. I'm capable of more than brooding in dark corners."
I couldn't help but laugh, and when he gestured to the table, I took a seat.
As he set a plate in front of me, I noticed he'd added extra strawberries-my favorite.
"Thank you," I said softly, looking up at him.
He shrugged, sitting across from me. "You need to eat more, Isabella."
It wasn't just the words, it was the way he said them, with a quiet care that made my chest tighten.
For someone who tried so hard to seem tough, Dante had a way of making me feel seen.
We fell into a comfortable silence. Once in awhile I could feel him glancing at me. We quietly finished our food and occasionally talked about random things.
It wasn't the awkward kinda a silence but a comfortable one.
After finishing my food , I picked up my plate, ready to take it to the sink, but before I could even stand up, his hand shot out, stopping me.
