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“I know it’s not perfect, but it’s something. You can choose to sit here, and continue withering away. Or you can choose to go out and enjoy your day. Reset. Come back refreshed. Think better, smarter. Isabella, if you carry on the way you are, you won’t even have a future to think of. You’d be nothing but a puppet. But by seizing every chance to make a choice, you take control. What do you choose today, Isa?”
She’s silent, her gaze fixed intently on my face. At last, she speaks, hoarsely. “That’s the wisest thing anyone has ever said to me. I’ll go get showered.”
She disappears into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later in jeans and a white polo looking refreshed and more vibrant than I've seen her in days. We walk side by side, the tension between us slowly dissipating as we approach the garden.
"Thank you, Stefano," she says softly, her green eyes meeting mine. "For buying me a little freedom."
"It’s nothing, Isabella. Let's just focus on having fun today, alright?"
"Alright," she agrees, her lips curving into a small smile.
Isabella dips her brush in crimson paint and begins placing broad strokes across the canvas. I set up my own easel and supplies, choosing a vivid azure blue for the sky.
We paint in companionable silence for a time. Then Isabella says, "The gardens here are so beautiful. I wish I could explore them more. Alone."
"Perhaps the Capo will allow more privileges if you continue to behave well," I say.
She makes a face. "I doubt that. He hates me too much."
"He doesn't hate you," I say, though I know she's right.
Now that I think of it, I've never seen him treat someone under our protection with so much scrutiny. I, too, am beginning to believe that The Capo despises Isabella. As for why, I simply don't know. But I don't want to add fuel to the fire so I stretch the truth. "He's just being cautious."
"He's being cruel," she says bitterly. She stabs at her canvas with the brush.
I go to her and grasp her wrist gently. "Careful. You'll ruin your painting."
A little bit of paint flicks onto her white shirt.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “Oh no, you didn’t!” she grins. “Not my favorite shirt. That too, the white one!”
“I am so, so sorry,” I gasp, trying to take a napkin and wipe it clean. In the process, I smudge it even further.
Isabella dabs a smear of blue paint on my nose, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"Now we match," she says with a grin.
I flick a blob of red at her cheek in retaliation, leaving a bright stain on her tanned skin. She shrieks with laughter, the sound light and carefree in a way I haven't heard since she first arrived here.
My heart swells at the sight of her joy. I did this. I made her forget, at least for now, the dark cloud that's been hovering over her.
As Isabella flings another handful of paint at me, I catch her wrist, pulling her close. Our chests are smeared with color, our faces only inches apart.
For a moment, we simply stare at each other, breathing hard. Then Isabella tilts her head up, brushing her paint-stained lips against mine.
The kiss is soft, hesitant, but it ignites a flame inside me. I deepen the kiss, my free hand tangling in her hair. She sighs into my mouth, her body melting against mine.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathless. Isabella searches my gaze, as if looking for answers. I only smile and kiss the tip of her nose, leaving a faint red mark.
"Now we really match," I murmur.
We hear a leaf crunch behind us, and pull away.
Shit. What did we just do. Did someone see us?
She looks just like I feel. Terrified, regretful. “Maybe it was just an animal, or a bird,” I say.
“Stefano,” she whispers.
