Chapter 2: Caught in the Wolf's Gaze
Dante DeLuca wasn't supposed to notice her this quickly.
The plan had been simple—blend in, observe, get close enough to gather information. Not to draw his interest on her second week at Inferno. Not to become the object of his curiosity.
Yet, here she was.
Standing in front of him. His eyes pinned her down like a predator toying with its prey.
"You handled that well, Bella," Dante murmured, the way he said her name sending a ripple of something dangerous down her spine.
He leaned back against the plush leather of his seat, watching her with a slow, assessing gaze. His fingers drummed lightly against his whiskey glass, the sound barely audible over the club's music.
She could feel the weight of other eyes on her too. Luca Moretti, Dante's right-hand man, stood nearby, his stance alert, his expression unreadable.
He was watching her, just as much as Dante was.
Measuring. Calculating.
Dangerous.
"Thank you," Isla—Bella—replied smoothly, keeping her voice even, her mask firmly in place.
Dante's lips curled at the edges, but there was no kindness in his expression.
"Tell me something," he mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Do you always have such a sharp tongue, or was that just for show?"
A test.
She knew better than to flinch under his scrutiny.
"Only when necessary," she answered.
Dante chuckled, but there was something almost cruel about the sound. "Good girl."
The words shouldn't have affected her, but they did. Her stomach twisted, not with nerves—but with the knowledge that she was playing with something she didn't fully understand yet.
She needed to leave. Now.
"May I get you anything else, Mr. DeLuca?" she asked, taking a slight step back.
His gaze darkened, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw amusement flicker in his expression.
"You may," he murmured. "For the rest of the night, you'll serve only me."
Her pulse spiked.
The rest of the night?
That wasn't part of the plan.
She could feel Luca's stare sharpen, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate.
Dante was testing her. He wanted to see how she reacted to orders, how she handled being under his control.
She forced her body to remain still. Forced herself to breathe.
Then she gave him a small, professional nod.
"As you wish, Mr. DeLuca."
The smirk that stretched across his lips told her he knew exactly what he was doing.
And he was enjoying it.
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The Game Begins
The night dragged on, and Isla found herself caught in Dante DeLuca's orbit.
She served him drink after drink, ignoring the way his eyes followed her every move. He never touched her, never made a single inappropriate comment, but his presence was suffocating.
Every glance, every smirk, every shift in his posture felt like a calculated move.
A hunter waiting for his prey to slip.
Luca Moretti remained nearby, watching her with quiet suspicion. She was under scrutiny from all sides, and she had no choice but to play along.
"You don't seem nervous," Dante commented at one point, tapping his glass lightly.
She set his drink down with steady hands. "Should I be?"
His smirk deepened.
"Most people are when they're near me."
She tilted her head slightly, feigning innocence. "Maybe I just don't scare easily."
Silence.
Then, a low chuckle. "I like you, Bella."
The way he said it made her skin prickle.
Dante DeLuca didn't "like" people. He consumed them.
The night continued, and Isla remained poised, careful with every movement, every word. But deep down, she knew—she was walking a thin line between intrigue and danger.
And then, just when she thought she might survive the night unscathed, Luca spoke.
"Stay away from him."
The words were quiet, but they carried the weight of a warning.
She turned to him, keeping her expression neutral. "Excuse me?"
Luca's gaze was unreadable. "Dante. Stay away from him."
A chill settled in her stomach.
She forced a polite smile. "I don't know what you mean."
Luca leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You don't belong here. I don't know what game you're playing, but you won't win."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
He was suspicious. Maybe he didn't know who she really was, but he knew something was off.
For the first time that night, fear slithered through her.
Because if Luca Moretti was onto her…
Then Dante DeLuca wouldn't be far behind.
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