Alessandro
I guide Isabella through the hotel corridors, my hand at the small of her back.
Each step takes us closer to reality and further from the sanctuary we created above the city.
My body still hums with the aftershocks of pleasure, but my mind has already begun its retreat.
Fucking her was a huge mistake. Possibly the biggest of my life.
I check the hallway, then motion for her to follow. The bathroom is just ahead. When we reach the door, she pauses, looking up at me with those sea-green eyes that see too much. Her hair is slightly mussed, her lips swollen from my kisses. To anyone with eyes, what we've done is obvious.
I've broken my own rules. Compromised negotiations with a family I don't trust by taking their daughter before our wedding. If Marco or Enrico discover what happened on that rooftop...
And yet, I can't bring myself to regret it. Not fully, anyway.
"Will I see you before the wedding?" she asks.
I should say something. Words of reassurance or promise. Instead, I brush my thumb across her cheek, a gesture so natural, it startles even me.
I withdraw my hand. “Go.”
She slips inside the bathroom, and I stand motionless for several seconds, staring at the closed door, before forcing myself to walk away.
I move through the hotel, avoiding the ballroom entirely. The thought of engaging in small talk, of shaking hands with men who would just as soon put a bullet in my back, feels insufferable after what just happened.
I message my driver who brings the car around. As we pull away from the hotel, I watch the building recede. Inside is the woman who has somehow breached my defenses.
This wasn't supposed to be complicated. A business arrangement. A strategic alliance. Not this hunger that gnaws at my insides, this dangerous desire to claim more than just her body.
I close my eyes, leaning back in the seat. Six more days until she's my wife. Six days to rebuild the walls she's broken through.
But as we move through the city, I find the scent of her still lingers on my skin. I can still feel the heat of her body against mine, hear her soft gasps as she came undone beneath me.
Fuck.
I've had women before. Countless nameless faces. Sexual release was always just that, a physical response.
This was different.
I grind the heels of my palms into my eye sockets as I try to make sense of what just happened. Was it her innocence? The trust in her eyes as she offered herself to me? That initial resistance of her body as I claimed what no man had taken before?
No. It was more than the novelty of her virginity. There was something in the way she looked at me. Like she saw in me places I’ve buried out of necessity.
I think of Luca and how he nearly lost himself when Katerina was taken. He had the wild, unhinged look of a man who'd found his breaking point.
Then there's Adriano, who once swore he'd never love again after losing Eva. Now he walks around with that dopey grin, his hand constantly touching Eva's belly, as if reassuring himself his happiness is real. The transformation would be comical if it weren't so terrifying.
Even Valentina, my fierce little sister who used to spit in the face of emotion, now bends to Cristian's will.
They're happy, I can't deny that. But at what cost? Each of them broke before they could rebuild. Each suffered agonies I witnessed firsthand when their lovers were threatened, injured, nearly lost.
The thought of feeling that kind of fear... of having someone who could be used against me, taken from me...
No. I refuse to follow their path.
Love is a luxury I cannot afford. Not with the Vitale family's history, not with the tenuous peace we're building. Not with the future of the Dante empire on my shoulders.
But can I stop it?
A dangerous sensation tightens my chest, one I haven't felt since I was a boy. Before Father taught me that emotion was weakness. Before I learned that vulnerability brings destruction.
Fear.
Pure, primal fear. Not of death or failure. I've faced those countless times. This is the fear of losing control, of caring for something that can be taken away. Of having a weakness that can be exploited.
What if this is their plan? What if Isabella is bait in an elaborate trap? Marco Vitale has coveted the Dante empire for decades. What better way to bring down a king than through his heart? The Vitales could use her to dismantle us from within.
I clench my jaw, staring at the passing city lights. If I allow myself to fall for her, I risk everything my father built, everything I've sacrificed to maintain.
I can't let that happen. Can't afford to be compromised.
When I see her next, I'll be careful to keep my distance. Whatever this dangerous, intoxicating pull is, I need to master it before it masters me. Before it destroys everything.
When we finally pull through the gates of my estate, I've made my decision. Isabella will be my wife in name only. I'll treat her with respect, provide her security and comfort. But whatever ignited between us tonight cannot continue.
I am the head of the Dante family. I'll be damned if I let some green-eyed girl with a sharp tongue change that.
I pour myself a drink the moment I walk through the door, downing the first glass of whiskey in one swallow before refilling it. I’m still feeling unsettled, worried I’m not strong enough to resist the pull she has on me.
Could I still back out? The wedding is less than a week away. Invitations are sent, security arranged, alliances hanging in the balance.
If I called it off now, I'd look weak. Indecisive. The other families would smell blood in the water. Marco would take it as the ultimate insult, especially if he discovered I’d taken the one thing he finds of value in her. War would be inevitable.
And yet...
I close my eyes, seeing Isabella's face the moment I first entered her. That mixture of pain and wonder, vulnerability and strength. The way her body yielded to mine, trusting me despite everything.
Fuck. What if she's pregnant?
The glass nearly slips from my hand as the thought crashes through me. I hadn't used protection, hadn't even considered it in the heat of the moment. A child. My child, growing inside her at this very moment.
The possibility sends terror through me. A Dante heir with her eyes, her sharp mind.
I shake my head violently, dispelling the image. No. I will draw the line there. Still, I can't abandon Isabella, either. Not unless she gives me reason to.
I set the glass down, forcing myself to get it together. The wedding will proceed as planned. The alliance will stand. I'll be a husband in name, in public, in every way necessary to maintain appearances.
But I'll keep emotional distance. Remember who she is. A Vitale. Daughter of the man who would gladly put a bullet in my head if it meant taking my throne.
I need to compartmentalize, keep our physical relationship separate from my emotional walls. I can give her my body without surrendering my soul. I've done it countless times before.
I pour another drink, staring into the amber liquid feeling resolved. Seven days from now, she'll be my wife, but never mine to love. That's the line I cannot cross.
I finish my drink and head upstairs to my room.
I toss my jacket onto the chair and loosen my tie. My fingers brush something soft in my pocket. I pull out my handkerchief, stained with evidence of what we shared. The silk square bears the faint crimson mark of her innocence.
"Christ," I mutter, running my thumb over the fabric.
I should dispose of it. Burn it. This is evidence of my weakness.
Instead, I bring it to my face, inhaling deeply.
Her scent overwhelms me. The memories crash through my newly constructed walls. She’d been so fucking tight. She’d moved with me, against me in perfection, like God had made her for me.
My body responds immediately, hardening with a need so intense, it borders on pain.
"Fuck!" I hurl the handkerchief across the room, disgusted with my lack of control. It flutters to the floor like a white flag of surrender.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to erase the images burned into my brain. This is a strategic business deal. Not a hunger that threatens to consume me from the inside out.
She's a Vitale. The daughter of a man who would cut my throat in my sleep if given half the chance.
And yet.
I drop my hands, staring at the discarded handkerchief. In that moment, clarity finally comes. I understand the true danger Isabella represents. It's not just the Vitale name or her family's ambitions.
It's her. The woman herself. The way she sees me. The way she makes me feel seen.
If I let her, Isabella could unmake me entirely. Leave me exposed, vulnerable.
I strip and get into bed. As I close my eyes, I make a promise to myself. I will never give her that power.
Even if it means destroying her first.