Then his voice came again, this time lower. "Is what she said true? Did you drink?"
Isabella's eyes widened a little. Her fingers clutched the edges of the jacket, and she looked away quickly, biting her bottom lip. Her shoulders stiffened as fear crawled into her chest. "I-I…" she stammered.
The words wouldn't come out. Her lips trembled. Her breath caught in her throat. She had only taken a sip. She hadn't known it was alcohol until it burned her throat—but what if he didn't believe her?
Leonardo's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't need her to say more. The guilt in her voice, the way her arms hugged herself through the jacket, and the way her legs wobbled slightly all told him the truth.
She really had drunk.
"Hmm." Leonardo's voice was low, a quiet sound filled more with disappointment than anger. He looked at Isabella, really looked at her—wrapped in his jacket, eyes watery, lower lip trembling slightly as she stood in front of everyone like a guilty child.
