When Dante arrived home that evening, the silence was unsettling. The house was usually alive with subtle sounds—the housekeeper humming, the faint clatter of dishes, or Isabella's soft footsteps—but tonight, there was nothing. His brow furrowed as he entered, his sharp eyes scanning for anything out of place.
"Mirella" he called, his voice calm but laced with authority. The housekeeper appeared almost instantly, a cheerful expression on her face.
"Ah, sir! You're home" she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
"What happened here?" Dante asked, gesturing to the unnervingly quiet atmosphere.
Mirella chuckled, a twinkle in her eye. "Oh, nothing bad, Mr. Vitale. Your wife spent the entire afternoon baking cookies for you, but..."
"But?" Dante's eyes narrowed.
"But Alexander smuggled the cookies out to the entire staff and your men" she said, her voice laced with amusement. "When Isabella found out, she put him in time-out. He's been standing there ever since."
As if on cue, Dante's eyes snapped to the corner of the room. There stood Alexander, a towering man by any standard, his broad shoulders slumped and his head bowed, facing the wall like a guilty child. The absurdity of the scene would've been laughable if not for the sheer discipline etched into Alexander's posture.
"Time-out?" Dante repeated, his tone dry, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Mirella nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes, sir. She was quite adamant about it. Told him he'd better think about his actions before even thinking about moving."
Dante's lips finally curved into a full smirk, his amusement barely hidden. "And he's been standing there... willingly?"
"Willingly? Oh no" she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He tried to argue, but one look from her and he knew better. Your wife is a force of nature, Mr. Vitale."
Dante's gaze softened at the mention of Isabella, but Mirella wasn't finished.
"You know, this house—it was always big and beautiful, but cold" she said, her tone turning warm and reflective. "Since your wife arrived, it feels... different. Warmer. She's made it a home, sir. A real home."
Dante's smirk faded, replaced by a look of quiet contemplation. A home. He'd never thought of it that way before, she was right. Isabella had transformed his world in ways he hadn't even noticed.
"Thank you, Mirella" he said, his voice softer than usual.
The housekeeper smiled knowingly and left him to his thoughts.
Dante walked toward Alexander, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. The bodyguard stiffened but didn't dare turn around.
"Alexander" Dante said, his voice sharp and commanding.
"Yes, boss" Alexander replied immediately, still facing the wall.
"You stole my cookies?"
Alexander flinched. "It was for morale, boss. The men loved them."
"Morale" Dante repeated, his tone flat. "You stole my cookies for morale."
"Yes, sir."
Dante chuckled darkly, his amusement genuine but tinged with menace. "You're lucky she didn't fire you. Or worse."
"Yes, sir."
"Turn around" Dante ordered.
Alexander turned, his expression contrite but tinged with mild exasperation. "She's... persistent."
Dante laughed, shaking his head. "Persistent doesn't even begin to cover it. You're free, but if you touch anything she makes for me again, time-out will be the least of your worries."
Alexander nodded vigorously. "Understood, boss."
As the bodyguard walked away, Dante turned toward the kitchen, where he found Isabella sitting at the counter, a pout on her lips and a plate of freshly baked cookies in front of her.
"Someone stole my cookies" she grumbled when she saw him.
Dante smirked, walking over to her and taking her chin between his fingers. "And someone put a fully grown man in time-out. My wife is terrifying."
Isabella tried to look indignant but failed miserably, a small smile breaking through. "He deserved it."
Dante chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You're incredible, micia."
She blushed, nudging the plate toward him. "These ones are just for you. No sharing."
"Good" he said, picking one up and taking a bite. "Because anyone who touches these will end up in a lot worse than time-out."
Isabella giggled, and the sound filled the house, erasing the earlier silence. For the first time in years, Dante realized Mirella was right. It wasn't just a house anymore. It was home.
_
_
The following afternoon, after Dante left for work, Isabella's mother, Lucia, arrived for a visit. The warmth of her presence filled the house as she embraced Isabella tightly at the door.
"It's been so long since we've had time to talk" Lucia said, her gentle smile softening her otherwise sharp features.
"I know, Mama" Isabella replied, guiding her mother inside. "I've just been... adjusting."
As they settled in the living room, Isabella brewed tea and brought out a tray of cookies she'd saved from the earlier batch. Lucia watched her daughter with quiet admiration, noting the subtle changes in her demeanor.
"You've grown" Lucia said suddenly, her tone filled with a mix of pride and nostalgia.
Isabella glanced up, surprised. "Grown? How do you mean?"
Lucia sipped her tea, her eyes warm. "You carry yourself differently. There's confidence in the way you speak, the way you move. You're not the timid girl I raised, Bella. There's strength in you now."
Isabella hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I guess... Dante's had something to do with that."
Lucia's expression shifted to something unreadable. "Dante" she repeated. "You seem... happy with him."
"I am" Isabella said firmly, her voice steady. "He may be rough around the edges, but he takes care of me, Mama. In his own way, he's taught me to take care of myself too."
Lucia smiled faintly, reaching out to take her daughter's hand. "I'm glad, Cara mia. Truly. You deserve to be happy."
They spent the next couple of hours reminiscing about the past, laughing over childhood memories, and even shedding a few tears over old wounds. For the first time in years, Isabella felt a genuine connection with her mother, one not clouded by expectations or fear.
But the peaceful afternoon was interrupted when the front door slammed open. Isabella and Lucia turned to see Dante entering, his suit stained with blood, his expression cold and distant.
"Dio mio" Lucia whispered, her eyes widening in horror.
Dante paused when he saw them, his gaze softening slightly as it landed on Isabella. He looked down at his bloodied clothes and then back at her, as if bracing himself for her reaction.
Lucia stood, her protective instincts kicking in. "Isabella, this—"
But to her astonishment, Isabella didn't flinch or cower. Instead, she rose from her seat, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. "Dante Vitale, you're tracking blood into the house!"
Dante blinked, caught completely off guard. "It's... been a day" he said gruffly, his usual confidence faltering.
"Well, it's going to be another kind of day if you don't take those clothes off and get in the shower," she scolded, pointing toward the stairs. "And don't you dare touch anything on your way up!"
Lucia stared at her daughter, utterly speechless.
Dante raised a brow, the corners of his lips twitching. "Yes, ma'am" he said, his tone laced with amusement.
He began to walk away, but Isabella stopped him with a glare. "Shoes too, Dante. Now."
He smirked but complied, kicking off his shoes and heading upstairs.
Lucia finally found her voice, turning to Isabella. "Bella, how... how are you so calm? He came home covered in blood!"
Isabella shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's just Dante, Mama. He's a handful, but he's mine. Besides, he knows better than to make a mess in my house."
Lucia's shock gave way to laughter, her admiration for her daughter growing even more. "You've truly changed" she said, shaking her head. "I didn't think you had this in you."
Isabella smiled, a sense of pride blooming in her chest. "Neither did I, Mama. But I think I like who I'm becoming."
Lucia stayed a little longer, and when Dante returned downstairs, freshly showered and wearing a clean shirt, she gave him a wary but respectful nod.
"You take care of my daughter" she said, her voice firm.
Dante met her gaze, his expression serious. "Always."
As Lucia left, she glanced back at Isabella, her heart lighter than it had been in years. Isabella had found her strength, and though her world was far from ordinary, it was hers—and she was thriving.
After Lucia left, the house fell into a comfortable silence. Dante and Isabella sat together in the living room, the soft glow of the evening light casting warm shadows around them. Dante leaned back on the couch, his sharp eyes watching Isabella as she absently tidied up the coffee table, her mind clearly elsewhere.
"I need to tell you something" Dante said, his voice breaking the quiet.
Isabella turned to him, tilting her head curiously. "What is it?"
"We're attending a gala tomorrow night" he began, his tone calm but carrying an underlying weight.
"A gala?" she repeated, blinking in surprise. "Is it work-related?"
Dante nodded. "Yes, but it's also a social battleground. There will be people there who resent you simply because you're you. They'll try to undermine you, embarrass you, maybe even provoke you. This won't be like the other events we've attended."
Isabella frowned, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "Won't you take care of them?" she asked, her voice soft.
Dante leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he fixed her with an intense gaze. "Of course, I will" he said firmly. "But before I do, I want you to take care of them."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Me?"
"Yes, you." He leaned closer, his tone dark and commanding but laced with encouragement. "You're not the timid girl you were before, Isabella. You're a Vitale now. The woman who stands beside me, not behind me. You will meet them head-on and put them in their place."
Isabella swallowed hard, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I don't know if I can—"
"You can" Dante interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You've already proven it. The way you stood up to your father, to your sister, to everyone who tried to control you. You're stronger than you think, micia. And tomorrow, you'll show them just how strong."
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Isabella felt her heart pounding, a mix of fear and determination swelling within her.
"I'll try" she said finally, her voice trembling slightly but steadying as she met his gaze.
Dante reached out, his hand cupping her cheek gently. "You won't just try. You'll succeed. And I'll be right there, watching every moment."
His confidence in her sent a warmth through her chest, and she nodded, a small smile breaking through her nervousness.
"Good" he said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. "Now, let's make sure you have the perfect dress to remind them exactly who they're dealing with."
Isabella couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension in the room easing slightly. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Why? Was it a revelation on your path?" he replied smoothly, his smirk widening.
As the evening wore on, Dante began discussing the guest list, pointing out who to watch out for and how to handle certain situations. Isabella listened intently, her confidence slowly building with each word of guidance from her husband. She wasn't just a Romano anymore—she was a Vitale, and tomorrow, the world would know it.