"…Do you want an invitation now?" he asked over his shoulder, voice flat and cold. His hand slowly moved to pat the side of his coat, where his gun was holstered.
Isabella's eyes widened instantly.
"N-No! Don't take out your gun, I'm coming, I'm coming!" she squeaked, quickly lifting her gown and rushing after him. Though she still kept a cautious distance, like he might fire at her shoes next.
Leonardo stopped and stared at her.
Speechlessly.
He didn't speak, just turned his gaze back ahead and casually patted invisible dust off his jacket.
The car ride back was silent with tension.
Isabella sat perfectly still, hands in her lap, not daring to shift even an inch. Her eyes stayed fixed on the tinted window, pretending to admire the blur of city lights, but her mind was elsewhere—angry.
He hadn't asked.
Not once.
Not why she had left the hall.
Not what had happened.
Not how she felt after being humiliated in front of so many people.
