The tension in Dante Vitale's head office was suffocating as Marco Romano burst in like a storm, his face twisted with rage. His footsteps echoed loudly against the polished marble, each one sharper than the last, as he approached Dante's desk. Matteo, seated casually on the edge of Dante's desk, raised an eyebrow at the commotion but didn't move until Marco came too close.
"Step back, old man" Matteo drawled, pulling his gun from its holster in a smooth, practiced motion. He aimed it directly at Marco's chest, his smirk mocking. "You're in Il Diavolo's domain, and you don't get to raise your voice here without consequences."
Marco froze for a moment, his rage flickering with caution. "Put that thing away" he growled, but there was a hint of hesitation in his voice.
Matteo shrugged."I could, but where's the fun in that?" His finger hovered near the trigger.
Dante, who had been quietly watching the exchange from his imposing leather chair, finally shifted. His piercing eyes met Marco's, and the room seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature. "Enough, Matteo."
Matteo sighed dramatically but lowered the gun, his expression still dripping with disdain.
Marco, regaining some of his bravado, slammed his fists on Dante's desk. "Why hasn't everything settled as you promised?" he demanded, his voice shaking with fury.
Dante leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Speak carefully" he said, his tone calm but lethal.
Marco straightened, his anger giving way to desperation. "You said you'd help once Isabella was married to you. Why hasn't this nightmare ended?"
Dante stood slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow over Marco. "Do you think you can cross her and expect me to clean up after you?" His voice was low, controlled, and terrifying. "You've underestimated the situation, Romano. I don't help men who betray their daughters."
Marco's mouth opened, but no words came out. Dante's cold gaze pinned him in place.
"Once Isabella is my wife" Dante continued, his tone sharp enough to cut steel, "I will settle this. Until then, your survival depends on how quickly you make that happen. Sooner or later, Romano....it's your choice."
Marco swallowed hard, his defiance crumbling under Dante's intensity. He turned and stormed out, his retreat filled with unspoken defeat.
Matteo let out a low whistle. "You're a lot scarier when you're calm, boss."
Dante didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the door Marco had exited through.
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At Romano's home, Isabella was pacing her bedroom, her hands trembling as she replayed the events of the day in her mind. The memory of Dante's sharp words, his unrelenting presence, and the cold promise in his eyes left her feeling both terrified and strangely reassured.
Finally, unable to bear the turmoil, she went to her mother's room. Lucia was seated by the window, her posture relaxed as she sipped her tea. The sight of her calm demeanor only heightened Isabella's distress.
"Mama, I need to talk to you" Isabella said, her voice cracking.
Lucia set her cup down and patted the seat beside her. "Come, my love. Tell me what's on your mind."
Isabella hesitated before sitting, tears welling in her eyes as she told her everything. " He—he wants to marry me, and Papa… he's agreed. I don't understand why. And Dante—he's terrifying, Mama. He's dangerous."
Lucia listened quietly, her face betraying no emotion. When Isabella finished, she reached out and gently cupped her daughter's face.
"My sweet girl" Lucia said softly, her voice filled with warmth, "sometimes the people we fear the most are the ones who protect us the best."
Isabella frowned, confused. "You're not angry? Or scared?"
Lucia smiled faintly. "I've seen more of this world than you know, cara mia. Dante Vitale may be dangerous, but he's not dangerous to you."
"But why is he doing this?" Isabella whispered. "Why me?"
Lucia kissed her forehead. "That's a question only he can answer. For now, trust yourself. You're stronger than you think."
In the evening, Clara barged into Isabella's room, her energy a whirlwind of chaos. "You're coming out with me today, and that's final!" she declared, hands on her hips.
"I don't feel like going out" Isabella mumbled, still curled up on her bed.
Clara rolled her eyes. "Oh, no, you don't. You've been moping around like a sad little puppy, and I won't have it. Get up!"
Reluctantly, Isabella let Clara drag her out of the house. They wandered through the bustling streets, Clara chattering away in her usual animated fashion.
"You know" Clara said with a sly grin, "if I were you, I'd be thrilled. Marrying Il Diavolo himself? That's like something out of a mafia romance novel!"
Isabella shot her a glare. "It's not a story, Clara. It's my life."
Clara shrugged. "Fine, but admit it—he's hot.'
Isabella groaned. "I can't with you right now."
Their lighthearted banter interrupted by the sharp bark of a dog, followed almost immediately by a gunshot that echoed down the street. Isabella froze, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Clara let out a shriek, grabbing Isabella's arm as they turned toward the commotion.
Just a few feet away, a scruffy, emaciated dog limped along the pavement, its coat matted with dirt. It was whimpering, its eyes wide with terror. Standing a short distance away, framed by the shadows of the nearby alley, was Dante Vitale.
Dressed in a sharp black suit, his presence radiated authority and menace. His face was cold and unforgiving, a predator sizing up his prey. His pistol was aimed steadily at the frightened animal.
"Dante!" Isabella's voice was a mixture of horror and disbelief.
The dog stumbled, its body trembling as it tried to move farther from Dante. Another gunshot cracked through the air, this one grazing the ground near the dog's feet.
"Stay still, you mangy mutt" Dante growled, his voice like gravel. His eyes flicked to Isabella for a split second, but his aim never wavered.
Isabella felt her blood run cold. The air around him seemed to darken, and the weight of his presence was suffocating. This wasn't the composed man she'd seen in front of her father or even the dangerously calm man she'd spoken to on the phone. This was the devil himself—Il Diavolo in all his terrifying glory.
Without thinking, Isabella broke into a run. Clara screamed after her, but her voice barely registered. All Isabella could focus on was the dog, its wide, terrified eyes locked on hers.
She threw herself between Dante and the dog, her arms outstretched as if to shield the animal. Her legs were trembling, and her heart felt like it was about to burst, but she didn't back down.
"Stop!" she shouted, her voice breaking.
Dante's expression darkened further, his grip on the gun tightening. For a moment, Isabella thought he would shoot anyway, her presence be damned.
"Move, micia" he ordered, his voice a low, threatening growl.
"No!" Isabella cried, tears streaming down her face. "He's just scared. Please don't hurt him!"
Dante's jaw clenched, his eyes boring into hers. The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable, but Isabella held her ground.
"You're testing my patience" he said coldly, his voice dripping with menace.
The air between them was electric, and the tension was so thick it was hard to breathe. Dante's men stood frozen nearby, clearly unwilling to interfere with whatever was unfolding.
"Please" Isabella whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. "Don't kill him."
Dante's hand wavered, his knuckles white around the grip of his gun. Slowly, agonizingly, he lowered the weapon. His eyes never left Isabella's, and the weight of his anger was almost too much to bear.
"You have no idea who you're defying, micia" he said, his tone a mixture of frustration and disbelief.
The dog was shaking as Isabella knelt to scoop it into her arms. It licked her face timidly, its thin body almost weightless against her. Dante watched her silently, his expression unreadable.
"You're hurt" Isabella said suddenly, her eyes darting to the blood staining his left hand.
"It's nothing" Dante replied sharply, turning to walk away.
"No, you need to treat it" Isabella insisted, surprising even herself with her boldness. "Come with me."
Dante stared at her, his brow furrowing. For a moment, she thought he would refuse, but to her surprise, he nodded.
The car ride to the clinic was tense. Isabella sat clutching the dog while Dante leaned back in his seat, his injured hand resting on his thigh.
"Why were you going to shoot him?" Isabella asked, her voice soft but filled with curiosity.
Dante glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "He bit me."
"That's it?" she asked incredulously.
Dante smirked darkly. "I don't tolerate disobedience, not even from animals."
Isabella shook her head, her grip tightening on the dog. "He was scared. He didn't know any better."
Dante said nothing, but the corners of his mouth twitched as if her words amused him.
At the clinic, Isabella insisted on treatment of both the dog and Dante. Dante's stared amusedly at her as she flinched while watching him get treated.
"You didn't have to come" Dante said, watching her intently.
"I wanted to" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't argue, though his gaze never left her face. There was something about the way she moved.hesitant yet determined...that stirred something unfamiliar within him.
As they left the clinic, Dante turned to Isabella. "Why did you stand in front of me like that?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide with confusion. "Because he didn't deserve to die."
Dante chuckled darkly. "You're brave, micia. Or maybe just foolish."
"I don't care what you think" she said, her voice trembling but defiant. "I couldn't let you do it."
Dante's smirk faded, replaced by a look of curiosity. "You're not what I expected, Isabella."
"What did you expect?" she asked softly.
"Someone weaker" he admitted. "Someone easier to break."
Isabella swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "I'm not as strong as you think" she whispered.
Dante stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "Strength comes in many forms, micia. You may not see it, but I do."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. Isabella felt her cheeks flush under his intense gaze, but she refused to look away.
"I don't understand you" she admitted finally.
"You don't have to" Dante replied, his voice low and dangerous. "But you will soon enough."
The drive back was quieter, the silence between them filled with unspoken thoughts. Isabella found herself glancing at Dante every so often, her mind racing with questions she was too afraid to ask.
When they reached her house, Dante helped her out of the car. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"You're stronger than you think, Isabella" he said quietly. "Don't forget that."
She looked up at him, her heart pounding. "Why do you care?"
Dante's smirk returned, though it was softer this time. "Because you're mine now."
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the doorstep with a racing heart and a thousand unanswered questions.
Admist all that she had a feeling that she is forgetting something.
_
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Clara stood frozen in place, her gaze fixed on the retreating figures of Isabella and Dante. She blinked repeatedly, unable to shake the surreal feeling that had washed over her. The entire situation had unfolded so quickly, and now Isabella was walking off with Dante—Dante Vitale, of all people—and Clara was left standing there, dumbfounded.
She had expected Isabella to stop, to glance back, to at least acknowledge her. After all, they had come out together. Yet Isabella had just... left her.
What just happened? Clara thought, still in shock. She had watched as Isabella, usually so skittish, had put herself in harm's way, trying to stop Dante from pulling the trigger.
And then, there was the part that didn't sit well with her—the way Dante had looked at Isabella, his dark eyes filled with something beyond the cold fury she had expected. The rage was there, yes, but so was something else. A flicker of something softer, maybe? Was it affection?
Clara snapped back to reality just in time to catch Matteo, leaning casually against a wall nearby, an amused smirk playing across his face.
"You know, I've got to admit, I didn't think I'd ever see you in this kind of situation, Clara" Matteo said, his tone light but teasing as he eyed her with amusement.
Clara didn't know how to respond at first. Her mouth opened, then closed again. All the words that had been swirling in her head just a moment ago seemed to evaporate the instant she laid eyes on Matteo's smug face. She was speechless.
"Seriously?" she finally managed, her voice cracking a little as she pointed at the now-empty street where Isabella and Dante had walked off. "You saw that, right? She literally just walked off with him. After everything that happened, she just... left me here."
Matteo chuckled, clearly entertained by her reaction. 'Yeah, looks like it. Guess she doesn't need you as much as you thought." He shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. "Then again, she was never really the clingy type..... Come on darling let's get you home."