Dante leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the cold, smooth surface of his desk. The penthouse was quiet, the distant hum of the city below serving as a subtle reminder of his dominance over it. The call with Matteo had ended an hour ago, but his thoughts still lingered on the girl....Isabella. He had only seen her for a few fleeting moments, but there was something about her that gnawed at him, an unexplainable pull that refused to be ignored.
The phone buzzed again on his desk, and he grabbed it without hesitation, swiping through the screen to check for an update.
Matteo's message was clear and to the point: Everything on Isabella is ready, boss.
Dante's lips twitched in acknowledgment. He clicked open the file, his gaze scanning through the details.
Isabella Romano. Twenty years old. Born to a well-off family in the heart of Milan. Daughter of Marco and Lucia Romano. Only one sibling—Giulia Romano, two years older. Isabella had a reputation for being quiet, studious, almost painfully innocent. She had grown up sheltered, adored by her mother, but with no real protection from her father or sister.
As Dante read, his fingers curled into a fist. Every detail of her life, from her love of books to the family dinners, all felt too… perfect. And yet, beneath that surface, the cracks were evident. Giulia had a long history of jealousy, and it was clear from the file that the older sister had taken every opportunity to belittle and manipulate Isabella.
But then something caught his eye. A glaring, suspicious gap in the file. At seventeen, Isabella had been kidnapped. The file was sparse on details, the incident carefully covered up with no mention of who was responsible or how it had affected her. The silence around it was unsettling, leaving Dante with more questions than answers.
He stared at the information, his brow furrowed. Why would they hide something like that?
Dante tossed the file aside, irritated. This wasn't the time for distractions. He had a meeting to attend. He couldn't afford to be pulled in by a girl whose life was veiled in secrets.
But even as he stood to leave, Isabella's face lingered in his thoughts—her innocence, her soft features, the way she had apologized so effortlessly. It irritated him, and yet, there was something almost endearing about it.
The meeting was important. The deal needed to be sealed. Dante dressed in his usual sharp black attire, adjusting his tie with careful precision. He grabbed his coat, made sure everything was in place, and stepped out of the penthouse.
As he walked through the streets of Milan, his mind wandered back to Isabella, her frightened eyes and her sincerity.
She apologized for something that wasn't her fault. Why?
He wasn't sure, but the idea of her constantly apologizing to avoid conflict....gnawed at him. He couldn't shake it.
The restaurant where the meeting was held was a classy one, the air thick with the scent of expensive wine and gourmet dishes. Dante's associates were already waiting at a private booth. Dante walked in with the same cold, calculated demeanor that had become second nature to him.
The negotiation began, but Dante's mind was elsewhere. His thoughts kept drifting to Isabella, to the way she had looked up at him with those wide, dark eyes....well the driver of the car. How she had apologized, again... even though it wasn't her fault.
What makes you do that? he thought bitterly, but the thought was fleeting. The deal came first.
Minutes passed, but he wasn't fully present. He answered questions in brief, clipped responses, his thoughts returning to Isabella every so often. There was something there that he couldn't explain. Something that felt too real.
And then, as if fate was toying with him, the door to the restaurant opened. Dante looked up without thinking, his gaze immediately locking onto the figure who had entered.
She was there. Isabella.
He froze for a moment, his pulse quickening as he watched her make her way into the restaurant. She was dressed simply, her coat falling loosely around her frame, her hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked around, scanning the room, unaware that the man whose world she had just crashed into was only a few feet away.
She moved with grace, but in her haste, her foot caught on the leg of a chair.
Dante's instincts kicked in before his brain could process the situation. Without thinking, he was on his feet and out of the booth, his hand outstretched just in time to catch her when she stumbled.
Her body collided with his, and for a brief second, neither of them moved. Dante's heart beat faster, an inexplicable force pulling him toward her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.
"Sorry" she muttered, stepping back, though she didn't pull away entirely. There was a brief moment of awkwardness, and Dante could feel her body trembling against his chest.
"No harm done" he said smoothly, though the words felt hollow in his throat. He still couldn't take his eyes off her. She was… stunning. Her beauty was almost ethereal, like something he couldn't touch...something unattainable.
She shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her feet as she tried to compose herself. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
Dante raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "So you have a habit of apologizing when it's not your fault?"
Her gaze snapped up to his, confusion flickering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, the words seeming to get caught in her throat.
"Don't apologize" he added coldly, though there was an edge of something else in his tone, something deeper. He didn't understand why, but the thought of her apologizing for something she didn't cause… it irritated him.
Isabella stepped back, her eyes now wary, a flicker of fear crossing her face as she looked at him. She seemed to sense that there was something dangerous about him, something that made her uncomfortable, though she couldn't put her finger on it.
"I… I really must be going" she said quickly, her voice shakier than before. "Thank you for catching me."
Dante's hand hovered for a moment, but he didn't move to stop her. She's afraid of me. Good.
"You're welcome, micia" he said, his voice soft but firm, the nickname slipping out before he could stop it. It felt natural, almost as though it was meant to be.
Her expression froze, and she stared at him, confusion and wariness filling her eyes. She didn't say anything, only nodded once before turning and quickly walking away.
Dante stood still for a moment longer, watching her leave, his chest tight, a strange feeling gnawing at him.
The others at the table were quiet, observing him, waiting for him to resume the meeting. But Dante's thoughts were consumed by Isabella, her soft presence, her sincere apology… and the way her eyes had flickered with fear when he spoke to her.
I'll protect you, he thought darkly, watching her disappear through the restaurant's door.
No one will hurt you. Not again.