His Ruthless Redemption (Isabella and Dominic) novel Chapter 2

Hope

I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step.

Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality.

“We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.”

I accepted without hesitation.

Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me.

Later that day, I sat in the room I’d converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn’t feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there.

It wasn’t much-just framed photographs, my mother’s necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn’t danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory.

Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly.

Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone.

Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced.

“Didn’t know you still hid out here,” came his voice from behind me, startling me.

I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile.

“It’s the only place where no one bothers me,” I replied, half teasing.

“Even me?”

I arched an eyebrow. “Especially you.”

It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly.

“Where?”

“Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to.

We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand.

“Dom, you need to see this,” she said, breezing past me as though I didn’t exist. “Santoro’s shipment got held up in Naples. If we don’t-”

“It can wait,” Dominic cut in, voice cool.

“No, it really can’t.”

Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it.

I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in.

The dinner plan died right there in the hallway.

It wasn’t the last time.

Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear.

Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic “had to take.” Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she “couldn’t wait to deliver.”

And Dominic never sent her away.

My resolve hardened with every intrusion.

I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions.

A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance?

Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia’s behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us?

It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn’t entertain her as much?

My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress.

Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom.

Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify