Forbidden Desire 18+

Chapter Fourteen

ELIO MORELLI

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We walk back to the apartment in silence. I flick my eyes over Isabella as she shakes out her fist–it's fine my ass. I knew from the second Jenson walked over behind those two fake ass friends of Isabella, that shit was going to kick off. I didn't know how. But boy, I enjoyed a front row seat.

I open the front door and check the house before returning to Isabella. She shrugs off her jacket and brushes her dark hair from her face. Then she meets my eyes, slumping her hip against the kitchen chair as her arms fold over her chest.

"Look," she grumbles with an eye roll. "If you're going to shout at me, go ahead. I don't regret what I did. In fact I'd do it again and again. It was fucking thrilling."

My eyes flick between hers as those long lashes brush her cheek and eyebrow with every blink. I take one step closer. "When I said get even, I didn't mean punch him in front of everyone."

"Well, it's too late now," she shrugs.

I walk towards the freezer and grab a bag of frozen vegetables. I wrap it up in a dry tea towel and thrust it in her direction. "Here," I demand. "Ice it. Those knuckles are going to be swollen from the force that almost knocked him out."

Isabella's lips swish from side to side, contemplating the decision. I huff out a breath, my patience wearing thin. "Icing an injury doesn't make you weak, sunshine," I grit through my teeth. I grab onto her arm and tug it free before placing the ice bag inside it. "Don't be an idiot."

She flashes me a sarcastic smile and moves the ice pack to her knuckles with a thud. I can tell in the way her expression flinches that she's trying hard not to wince. Now all that adrenaline has worn off, I bet she's feeling the full effects of punching someone.

I perch on the arm of the sofa, my legs stretched out in front of me and arms crossing my chest. "Who taught you to fight and defend like that?" I ask curiously.

A scoff escapes her mouth. "Please, if you're going to comment about my technique or my form, save it. I didn't do it for entertainment purposes."

"Who taught you?" I demand but louder.

"My dad did," she grips the ice pack harder. "He trained me to defend myself, how to throw a good punch, how to get someone twice my size on the ground. I guess it came in handy. He's had me train for years in case anything happened to me."

My brows raise in surprise. I'm impressed. But I wouldn't dare tell her that. Being trained in how to defend yourself and how to fight is smart for a girl who's father has a lot of enemies. I would be slightly concerned if she never went to a training session in her life because it might just save the rest of it.

"You did good," I state bluntly.

It's the truth. I won't say anything more.

Isabella's frame compared to Jenson's is considerably smaller but that meant shit to her. I spotted her fist pull back seconds before it hit his face and when I thought she was done, she had to hook her leg under him and pin him to the floor like some farm yard animal about to get slaughtered.

She might have a mouth that will get her in trouble but at least she can attempt to get herself out of it. When I first met her I was convinced she'd be the damsel in distress but in fact she's the complete opposite–she'll walk head first into trouble and not look back once.

The thought alone is terrifying but at least I know where she stands on survival skills.

"My, my," Isabella's lips form a knowing smile. "Are you giving me a compliment, Elio?"