A Thousand Ways To Say I Love You

CHAPTER LXII

As Isabella slipped into the taxi, leaving both men stunned, the tension between Matteo and Carter thickened in the evening air. Carter's smirk was full of provocation as he turned to Matteo, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Trying to win her back, huh?" Carter taunted, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against his car, feigning nonchalance.

Matteo’s gaze remained fixed on the disappearing taxi for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he turned toward Carter, his face darkening. There was no smile, just a cold, deadly calm. "Win her back?" Matteo repeated quietly, his voice like steel. "I don’t try to win anything, Carter. She was always mine."

Carter’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he held his ground. "That’s funny coming from the guy she just left standing here. You can’t control her like one of your deals, Matteo."

Matteo meet Carter’s gaze, his expression sharp. "She’s already mine, Carter. I suggest you focus on something else."

Matteo took a step closer, his towering presence casting a shadow over Carter. His eyes, once filled with affection for Isabella, now burned with fierce determination. "You think you know her, Carter?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think your games can come between us? I’m warning you—stay out of what you don’t understand."

Carter chuckled, though unease flickered in his eyes. "She deserves better than a man who’s too deep in his own secrets to let her in. You’re only going to push her away.

Matteo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. "I’ve lost people I love before. But her?" His voice dropped to a near whisper, lethal in its intensity. "I won’t lose her. Not to you, not to anyone."

Carter raised an eyebrow, not backing down. "We’ll see about that. She’s not as easy to win over as you think."

The two men stared each other down, the weight of their unspoken rivalry hanging heavily between them. This wasn’t just a battle for Isabella’s heart; it was a collision of two worlds, two powerful forces who refused to yield.

"I hope you’re ready for a fight," Carter said with a mocking grin. "Because I’m not walking away."

Matteo’s lips curved into a cold, dangerous smile. "Good. Neither am I." He turned sharply, to his car driving away with the confidence who knew the war had only just begun.

The tension between them was palpable, but neither man was willing to break. It was clear: this wasn’t just about Isabella. It was about pride, power, and proving who would come out on top.

As Isabella walked into her apartment, she found Andria lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine. A warm smile crossed Andria's face as she greeted her friend. "Hey, you're finally back! I missed having you around. It’s just not the same at home, without you."

Isabella gave a tired smile, setting her bag down and kicking off her shoes. "Yeah, it's been a long day. I can imagine. I missed you too."

Andria got up, walking over to the kitchen counter. "I know you’ve been busy with work, but I just don’t like being at my place anymore. It’s so quiet without you. I thought I'd stay here for a bit, hope you don't mind?"

Isabella chuckled softly. "Of course not. You know you're always welcome here." She hesitated, her thoughts flashing back to her encounter with Matteo earlier that day. She wanted to tell Andria everything—the awkward run-in with Carter, the way Matteo had waited for her, and the message he’d sent. But something held her back. Maybe it was the confusion in her own heart or the lingering pain.

Andria sensed something, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "You okay, Bella? You look like you’ve got something on your mind."

Isabella bit her lip, playing with the edge of her jacket. "It’s nothing, just...work stuff. A lot on my plate today."

Andria studied her for a moment, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but she didn’t push. Instead, she offered a sympathetic smile and handed Isabella a glass of water. "Well, if you ever feel like talking, you know I’m here. Always."

Isabella nodded, grateful for Andria’s presence but still unable to voice the whirlwind of emotions Matteo’s return had stirred up. She kept her thoughts to herself, not quite ready to face the reality of her feelings or the mess that came with them.

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Isabella rushed into the ER, the sound of chaos and medical staff filling the air. The patient was wheeled in on a stretcher, blood soaking his shirt. He had been shot, and it was critical. Without a second thought, she snapped into action, instructing the nurses and preparing for surgery. Her mind focused only on saving the man's life.

As she worked tirelessly, her hands steady but her heart pounding, she felt the weight of responsibility crushing down on her. Every second counted, and Isabella was giving everything she had to pull this patient back from the brink. But as the adrenaline surged, a familiar presence caught her off guard.

Matteo was there, standing just beyond the glass of the emergency room. His face was hard to read, but his eyes locked onto her with intensity. He hadn't expected to see her like this—strong, determined, and entirely in her element. It made his chest tighten, watching her fight for someone else's life with such ferocity. The sight of her covered in blood, her hair messily tied back, sweat on her brow, only deepened his admiration.

For a moment, Isabella glanced up, meeting Matteo’s gaze through the glass. Her breath hitched, but she quickly turned her attention back to the patient, refocusing. There was no time for distractions, not now. She needed to save this man.

Matteo stayed there, silently watching, torn between pride and guilt. He had come to check on her but found himself in awe of the woman she had become. Yet, as much as he wanted to step inside and comfort her, he knew she was in her world right now, and the only thing he could do was wait... wait for the right moment to make things right between them.

As Isabella finished stabilizing the patient, she stepped back, catching her breath. Her eyes instinctively found Matteo again, but this time, they held a mix of emotions—anger, pain, and maybe, just maybe, a hint of longing. She didn’t speak, but the weight of their shared glance said enough. For now, she had a job to do, but they both knew it wasn’t over yet.