Isabella’s POV

I stared down at the firearm nestled in the cushioned box, with a mixture of surprise and interest. When he’d appeared in the gym this morning with “a gift”, as he’d termed it, I hadn’t known what to expect. 

Never in a million years would I have expected this.

“You…got me a gun?” I asked disbelievingly, still staring down at it. It was small, matte-black with rose-gold accents and deceptively ...