Isabella
I stare at my reflection in the hotel bathroom's mirror, searching for visible changes. Shouldn't there be something different about me now? Some telltale sign that I'm no longer who I was an hour ago?
But the woman looking back at me has the same seafoam eyes, same flushed cheeks. My lipstick is smudged at the corners from Alessandro's kisses, but otherwise, I appear unchanged. I dab at the corners with my fingertip, smoothing away the evidence.
My body, though, knows the truth. Between my thighs, a delicious soreness reminds me with every movement that I've been claimed. Taken. Filled. The memory of Alessandro inside me sends fresh heat spiraling through my core. It was more amazing than I’d imagined.
Yes, some pain at first, but after that, just a wondrous, torturous building of pleasure.
I adjust my dress, telling myself that I’ve grown from this. Not in losing my virginity, but in deciding when and where. In convincing a strong, controlled man like Alessandro to respect my will.
Perhaps that’s why he changed afterward.
Alessandro's abrupt departure might have stung another woman. The way he escorted me downstairs without a word… But I know better. I felt his control shatter in my arms.
Men like Alessandro don't surrender easily, if at all. His retreat doesn't worry me. It simply confirms what I already suspected. I affect him far more deeply than he wants to admit.
I run my fingers through my hair, taming the wild strands back into elegant waves. Whatever demons Alessandro is wrestling with tonight, they're his to conquer. In one week, I'll be his wife. We'll have a lifetime to navigate this chemistry between us.
With a final glance at my reflection, I gather my composure and prepare to return to the gala. My family will be looking for me. Enrico will be suspicious.
Let them wonder. Let them guess.
For the first time in my life, I've made a choice that was entirely my own. And not even Alessandro's sudden coldness can take that victory from me.
I leave the bathroom and enter the ballroom, weaving through the crowd, plastering on my society smile.
"Where the hell have you been?" Enrico materializes at my elbow, fingers digging into my arm as he pulls me toward the edge of the room.
"The bathroom," I say coolly.
"For an hour?" His voice drops low. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"I wasn't in the bathroom for an hour." The lie comes easily. "I was speaking with Senator Mitchell's wife about her charity foundation. She's interested in having the Vitale family make a donation."
"Bullshit." His grip tightens, and I can already feel bruises forming. "Where were you? And where's Dante? I noticed he's conveniently absent too."
I jerk my arm from his grasp, surprising him with the force of my movement. "You need to learn to stop manhandling me, Enrico. I'm not your property."
"You're my sister—"
"I was doing exactly what Father asked of me. Charming guests and representing our family. If you have a problem with that, take it up with him." I straighten my spine, feeling wonderfully powerful. "Now if you'll excuse me, I see the Rizzo family. It’s been forever since I’ve talked to Julietta."
The days blur together in a flurry of final fittings and checklists. I barely sleep, my mind constantly replaying that night on the rooftop. The way Alessandro's breath caught when he entered me, how his control shattered completely.
I stand in front of a mirror for the final fitting of my wedding dress. I touch the fabric, wondering if Alessandro will look at me with desire when I walk down the aisle or if I'll only see the coldness that descended over him after our night together.
"Stand straighter," my mother instructs, tugging at my shoulders while the seamstress pins the hem. "A Dante bride must be perfect."
I want to laugh. If only she knew how imperfect I already am in the eyes of tradition.
Each night, I lie awake imagining our future. Will he touch me again with that same hunger? Will we build something real from this arrangement, or will I simply become another pawn in the games between our families?
By the time our wedding eve arrives, the anticipation has become almost unbearable. Tomorrow, I become a Dante wife, for better or worse.
The rehearsal dinner feels like practice for a play, everyone playing their parts. I move through the motions as well.
Alessandro stands across the room, engaged in conversation with one of the elders. His posture is rigid, his expression guarded. Nothing about him suggests he's the same man who touched me with hunger and passion on the rooftop terrace.
"Isabella, darling, come stand next to your fiancé." The wedding planner waves me over.
I approach Alessandro not with fear, but definitely on guard. When our eyes meet, his gaze slides right through me.
"Here?" I ask, positioning myself beside him.
"Perfect." The planner beams. "Now, after the vows, Alessandro will place the ring on your finger like this..."
I watch her demonstration, refusing to flinch when Alessandro takes my hand. His touch is impersonal now, businesslike. The motions of a man fulfilling an obligation.
My fantasies of a marriage that grows in love are quickly dissipating.
It was one thing for him to disengage right after our encounter on the roof.
I can see how a man like him would be discombobulated by losing control.
But it’s been a week. Perhaps this is how he wants our marriage to be. Cool. Distant. Aloof.
It’s not what I want, but I’m not going to beg for his love. Oh, I’ll demand respect, but I’ll never beg for love.
Two can play at emotional distance. I've had eighteen years of practice hiding my true feelings from my father.
I match his coldness, keeping my expression neutral even as my insides burn with anger and hurt.
"Tomorrow, you'll walk from here to here," the planner instructs, pulling me from my thoughts.
I nod, playing my part. Perfect Mafia princess.
Docile bride. I'd thought Alessandro saw beyond that facade, but maybe I was simply a way to prove to my brother and father that they can’t control him after all, by having sex with me, and served up the ultimate disrespect to my family.
And I let him. He got what he wanted and now is done with me.
Well, if Alessandro Dante wants to pretend nothing happened between us, I can play that game better than anyone.
If Alessandro wants a wife who's merely window dressing for his empire, I can be that.
If he wants me only in his bed but never in his confidence, I can adapt to that too.
I've spent my entire life learning to survive in the shadows of powerful men.
"You'll make a beautiful Dante bride," an elder's wife tells me, patting my hand.
I smile, the expression never reaching my eyes. "Thank you. It's an honor to join such a respected family."
Father catches my eye from across the room, his sharp nod reminding me of my duty. Be charming. Be perfect. Secure the alliance.
I straighten my shoulders, disappointed in myself for retreating into my role as a docile Mafia princess used to secure an alliance. My brief moment of rebellion on that rooftop was just that, a moment. My reality is an arranged marriage to a man who looks through me now.
Tomorrow, I'll walk down that aisle with my head held high.
I'll speak my vows with conviction. Perhaps in time, Alessandro and I will find some way to coexist without tearing each other apart.
Or perhaps we'll remain strangers. What I won’t become is a shadow of a woman like my mother.
Whatever comes, I'll endure it. I am Isabella Vitale and I won't break, not even for him.