Isabella had never known silence could be so loud.
The Vitelli estate at night was a fortress disguised in marble and velvet. The halls stretched endlessly, lined with doors that whispered secrets she wasn't allowed to touch. Every chandelier gleamed too brightly, every shadow seemed alive.
She sat on the edge of the canopy bed in the room Alessandro had given her—a room far too grand, with silk sheets and a balcony overlooking gardens she would never step into freely. She felt less like a guest and more like a jewel locked in a velvet-lined box.
The worst part was that she could still feel him. His touch when he tucked that strand of hair behind her ear. The weight of his gaze, as though he had peeled back her skin and seen everything raw beneath.
Her father's words echoed in her mind: Stay alive.
But how did one stay alive when every moment under Alessandro Vitelli's roof felt like walking a tightrope strung between desire and danger?
---
The knock at her door came just past midnight.
Not loud. Not insistent. Just enough to remind her she wasn't alone.
She opened it to find Alessandro leaning against the frame, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. He looked different than he had at the gala—less polished, more dangerous. The faint ink of tattoos peeked from beneath his shirt cuff, stories written in shadows.
"You're awake," he said simply.
Isabella's pulse jumped. "You knock on women's doors at midnight often?"
"Only when they keep me awake." His mouth curved faintly, but his eyes stayed sharp. "Walk with me."
She should have refused. She should have closed the door. Instead, she followed him.
---
The hallways stretched into silence, their footsteps echoing against marble. Alessandro led her through a side corridor and out onto a balcony overlooking Florence, the city lights shimmering like fallen stars.
He stood with his hands braced on the railing, shoulders tense. For the first time, Isabella thought he looked… tired.
"This city," he murmured, his voice low, "was built on silk. But it survives on blood."
She hesitated. "That sounds like something a man says to scare me."
He glanced at her then, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "If I wanted to scare you, Isabella, you'd already be terrified."
Her breath caught, but she forced her chin up. "And yet here I am, not trembling."
That drew the faintest smile from him—real this time, sharp and fleeting. "You're braver than most who stand in front of me, Or foolish or Maybe both."
Their eyes held, the space between them tightening, pulling taut like a wire.
---
"Why me?" she asked suddenly, the words slipping free before she could stop them. "Out of everyone your father could have crushed with debts—why did you decide to keep me?"
Alessandro turned fully toward her, and in the silver wash of moonlight, he looked carved from shadows. "Because unlike the others, you don't look at me with fear. You look at me like a man, not a monster."
Her chest tightened. "Maybe I just haven't seen the monster yet."
"Or maybe," he murmured, stepping closer, "you've already seen him and you still haven't run."
The air thickened. His presence was overwhelming, heat and gravity drawing her in until her back pressed against the cold stone of the balcony wall.
"Isabella," he said her name like it was both a warning and a prayer. His hand lifted, brushing against her cheek, tracing down her jaw with excruciating slowness. "You should run from me. Every part of your life would be safer if you did."
"Then why don't you let me go?" she whispered.
His thumb grazed her lower lip, and her breath shattered. "Because I don't want to."
And before she could think, before she could breathe, his mouth was on hers.
---
The kiss was nothing like she imagined. It wasn't soft, or hesitant. It was a storm breaking—hungry, consuming, dangerous. His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head back as though claiming her.
She should have pushed him away. Instead, her body betrayed her, answering with equal heat, her hands gripping his shirt. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of wine and fire, pulling her deeper, drowning her reason.
When he finally broke away, his breath was ragged against her lips.
"This," he said hoarsely, "is why you should fear me."
Her heart pounded like a war drum. "Because you kissed me?"
"Because I don't stop at what I want," Alessandro said, his forehead resting against hers. "And right now, I want you."
---
The silence stretched, thick with what neither of them dared admit. Isabella's chest heaved, her lips swollen, her body trembling not with fear—but with something far more dangerous.
"You can't own me," she said finally, her voice shaking with defiance. "Not with debts. Not with threats. Not with this."
Alessandro's hand dropped, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might walk away. But instead, his eyes burned into hers with a fire that promised ruin.
"We'll see," he murmured.
And just like that, he was gone, leaving her on the balcony with her lips still burning and her world already beginning to crack.