Isabella stood before the mirror, the black dress Matteo had sent hanging on her body like it was made for her. She touched the silk fabric, her fingers shaking.
"This is crazy," she whispered to her reflection, searching her own eyes for courage she wasn't sure she possessed.
She ran her hands through her long hair as her heart pounded in her chest. What was she doing? What had she gotten herself into?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Isabella jumped, her hand flying to her throat where her pulse fluttered.
"It's time." Matteo's voice was deep and cold, coming through the door like a command that brooked no argument.
Isabella took a deep breath and walked to the door, her legs feeling jelly. She turned the handle, the metal cool against her palm.
Matteo stood in the hallway wearing a black suit that fit him perfectly, every line tailored to his powerful frame. His dark hair was slicked back, and his cold gray eyes looked her up and down, making Isabella feel exposed under his scrutiny.
"You look..." Matteo paused, his eyes lingering on her face with something that might have been appreciation. "Perfect."
Isabella's cheeks grew warm. "Thank you."
"Remember what I told you," Matteo said, stepping closer until she could smell his was expensive and masculine, making her pulse quicken. "You are my assistant. Nothing more, nothing less."
"I remember." Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
"These men are dangerous, Isabella. They will test you, they will try to break you." His eyes searched hers, looking for weakness. "Do not let them."
Isabella nodded, her mouth feeling dry.
"Stay close to me," Matteo continued, his voice dropping to a protective whisper. "Speak only when spoken to. And whatever you do, do not show fear."
Isabella glanced nervously at Matteo as they stepped into the sleek black car waiting by the curb. The city lights blurred past the windows, and Matteo's steady presence beside her eased some of her anxiety, though her heart still raced.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she whispered, twisting her fingers in her lap until they ached.
Matteo's dark eyes flicked to her. "Romano's is the perfect place it quiet enough, but full of the right kind of people."
Her stomach churned with doubt. "What if they ask questions I can't answer?"
Matteo's lips curved into a small smile that transformed his stern features. "Then you lie. Beautifully."
The car pulled up in front of the restaurant, its glowing sign casting warm light on the polished marble steps like a beacon in the night.
They walked down the long hallway, Isabella's heels clicking on the marble floor like a metronome counting down to judgment. The sound echoed off the walls, and with each step, her heart beat faster, matching the rhythm of her footsteps.
The dining room doors were massive—dark wood with gold handles that gleamed like treasures. Matteo placed his hand on Isabella's lower back, and she felt the warmth through the silk dress, grounding her in the moment.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the steel underneath.
Isabella nodded. She wasn't ready, would never be ready. But sometimes courage meant moving forward anyway.
Matteo pushed open the doors, and the room was full of men who all wore expensive suits in dark colors with sharp lines. They looked like wolves in sheep's clothing, predators dressed for civilization. When Matteo entered, every man stood, and Isabella felt their eyes on her like searchlights.
"Gentlemen," Matteo announced, his voice filling the room with quiet authority. His hand stayed on Isabella's back, claiming and protecting. "This is Isabella. My new assistant."
The men murmured among themselves like a conspiracy of ravens. Isabella heard whispers but couldn't make out the words, her face growing hot under their collective scrutiny.
A younger man approached them with the confident stride of someone used to getting what he wanted. He had dark hair and bright eyes, a wide smile spread across his handsome face like sunshine.
"So this is the girl you brought home?" the man said, looking at Isabella with genuine interest rather than judgment. "I'm Salvatore. The less scary friend."
Isabella smiled back, relief flooding through her at his warmth. "Nice to meet you, Salvatore."
"The pleasure is mine, bella." Salvatore took her hand and kissed it gently, his touch respectful. "Welcome to our little family."
Matteo's hand pressed harder against Isabella's back, and she felt the tension in his touch like a coiled spring.
An older man at the far end of the table raised his glass, wine sloshing inside like liquid rubies. "Where did Matteo find such a lovely assistant?"
The question lingered around them, and Isabella felt Matteo stiffen beside her. This was a test, she could feel it in the sudden silence, in the way every eye focused on her.
"I worked for Milano Finance," Isabella said, the lie coming out easily. "But I found their business practices... questionable."
A man named Thomas laughed, the sound echoing around the room. "So you left one questionable business for another?"
Isabella lifted her chin, finding steel in her spine she didn't know existed. "At least this one is honest about what it is."
The men around the table chuckled, some nodding in approval, and Matteo's grip on her waist loosened slightly with pride and relief mixing in his touch.
"Clever girl," someone said, approval warming their voice.
"Tell us more about yourself," another man urged, leaning forward with the interest of a collector examining a rare specimen. He had gray hair and kind eyes that reminded Isabella of a favorite grandfather. "We want to know everything."
"Not much to tell," Isabella said, giving a small shrug that she hoped looked modest rather than evasive.
"Don't be modest," Salvatore pressed, leaning forward in his chair with genuine curiosity. "A beautiful woman like you must have an interesting story. Where did you study?"
Isabella's mind raced like a thoroughbred. "Oxford," she replied, the word coming from nowhere, surprising even herself. "Economics and international relations."
"Impressive," Salvatore said, his eyebrows rising with respect. "And before that?"