Chapter One.
Isabella's POV.
The sound of heavy music resounded in the lounge while several bodies swayed to the rhythm of the beat.
"Whoa!"
I sat down in one of the VIP booth, staring at my phone. Tears welled up in my eyes as I swiped left once more, revealing a picture of my ex-boyfriend.
Martin De la vista! He was a son of bitch, who played with my head for five years. Until now, I could not bring myself to understand why he did this to me.
Nobody told me that been cheated on, was this painful. I rejected all the men in Europe, only to come home and found that he was cheating on me with one of the girls from the Italian mob.
She got pregnant and their wedding was this week. I had no idea until I got home.
"More beer, please," I wiped my tears away with the back of my palm. Alcohol wasn't typically my go-to, but in this moment, it was the only remedy for my turmoil.
Glancing behind me, I noticed more patrons in the club. It appeared that tonight held something special. Perhaps there was an event of some sort.
My vision blurred, making it impossible to read faces. All that consumed my thoughts was the harsh reality that I, the daughter of Rosario Santo, one of the city's most feared men, was being openly ridiculed by Martin. Nobody should dare to mock me, but he did, and my father allowed it.
"Here is your drink, ma," the bartender was scared of opening another bottle for me. I saw the horror on his face. He actually pitied me but I did not want any one's pity.
"Fill my glass," I managed to articulate, shifting in my seat. The pulsating music filled the air, and the DJ seamlessly transitioned from one track to the next. The energetic crowd within the club swayed and grooved to the infectious rhythms.
Amidst the dancing multitude, it was just me and a mysterious man who occupied a seat a few meters away. I couldn't help but steal glances at him.
Martin had always been handsome, but this stranger was on a different level of attractiveness. His appearance was nothing short of breathtaking, his features impeccably chiseled, as if they were sculpted by an artist. He possessed the kind of allure that could easily grace the billboards as a top model.
As I continued to observe this mesmerizing figure, a voice interrupted my reverie. It was the waiter, and his sudden question startled me.
I shook my head, barely registering his words as I remained fixated on the enigmatic man across the room. My lips were sealed, and my focus remained anchored to the intriguing stranger.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the enigmatic man. He sipped his drink with a languid grace, reminiscent of a character from one of those sultry Hollywood advertisements.
The allure of his actions was undeniable, almost as if he had walked straight out of a fantasy.
Our gazes locked, and my heart raced, prompting me to avert my eyes in a hurry. What was the point?
Men like him, whether it was Martin Santiago or the captivating figure before me, seemed to be cut from the same cloth, each possessing an allure that was hard to resist.
I cautiously took a sip of my drink, the first since I had entered the club. Earlier, I had downed the entire contents in one gulp, but now it felt like the stranger had brought my senses back to life. The warmth of the alcohol coursed through me, creating a contrast to the cool air of indifference that had momentarily enveloped my heart
I experienced a profound sense of betrayal, and as I reflected on it, I realized that this emotion was far from unfamiliar to me. My father had betrayed my trust on numerous occasions, a recurring pattern of disregard that left me emotionally scarred. He had never shown a genuine concern for my well-being, so it begged the question: why would Martins be any different?
As I wrestled with these painful thoughts, a deep and resonant voice suddenly interrupted my contemplation, jolting me back to the present moment. I couldn't help but wonder about the person behind the voice, shrouded in mystery.
"Hello," the a husky voice spoke again. It was a male.
It had been three long days since my return from studying abroad in London. The people of this town did not recognize me.
There were stories that the daughter of the Rosario, who had completed her law degree in a far-off land, was back home... A degree I had been compelled to pursue, not out of passion, but out of familial expectations that weighed heavily on my shoulders.
"If you don't mind, can I join you, miss?" The voice persisted with its inquiry, sending a shiver down my spine.
The cacophonous blend of loud music and the contagious laughter emanating from the dance floor enveloped the scene, creating a lively yet unsettling atmosphere.
"Why not?" I said, without looking at whoever it was. Tonight was not a good night. I wanted to avoid chatting with people.
I took a sip from my glass, feeling the familiar burn in my throat. I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the tears.
The burning sensation and my unshed tears seemed to conspire, subjecting me to a slow, painful torment.
In that moment, I questioned the wisdom of coming to the club. Perhaps I should have stayed in my room, immersed in melancholy music.
"Why were you staring at me?" the voice persisted, demanding an answer once more, and I found it impossible to swallow the words that had caught in my throat. His question seemed to grip me, leaving me momentarily breathless.
In that tense moment, I turned my head, and my gaze locked with his mesmerizing azure eyes. The depths of those eyes were enchanting, a shade of blue that could easily ensnare anyone's heart.
Despite the dimly lit room, those pools of blue radiated an allure that pierced through the shadows. Their magnetic pull was undeniable, and I found myself falling in love with them the moment our eyes met.
"I-I didn't know you were the one sitting next to me,"
I managed to say, without getting lost in the depths of his enigmatic gaze.
This man was undoubtedly the type of person that women would find themselves drawn to, perhaps as a way to seek revenge or simply to escape the confines of their relationships. What a captivating beauty he was, with an allure that seemed to transcend mere appearances.
"Oh, forgive me. I thought you saw me coming over," He apologized, his smile warm enough to thaw the coldest heart. "Are you new to this town? I've never seen you before."
"Not really. I just came back after a long time," I said, pouring more wine into my glass. This was becoming interesting for me.
"Not really. I just returned after a long absence," I said, pouring more wine into my glass. This was starting to pique my interest.
"I see…" He nibbled his lower lip, and I wished he wouldn't. Why did he have to be so strikingly handsome? "I was curious why a beautiful woman like you... Why are you indulging in so much drink?"
Wait… Did he just call me beautiful?
I couldn't care less about his second question. The fact that he saw me as a beautiful woman was all I needed for now. Martin, my ex-boyfriend, never once acknowledged my beauty.
I drained my glass and unsteadily rose to my feet, my legs betraying me. The dance floor was a blurry sea of faces.
I grasped the stranger's neck firmly. He remained seated, unmoved by my actions. "Let's make this night truly unforgettable," I stammered.
"Are you sure about this?" His smile reappeared, and I couldn't have been more certain about anything in my life. In his arms, I yearned to escape my sorrows, to share my first night with him, and to feel like a woman, for he alone held that power.
"No, Miss," he stood up and attempted to kiss me. "You should head home."
"I don't want to go home. Let's go upstairs."
After a moment, during which I assumed he was contemplating, he said, "Fine, princess." I had a feeling this night was going to be longer than I had anticipated.