The chandeliers blazed high above, spilling golden light across silk gowns and black tied masks. Music faltered as the Wilson women entered. Isabella moved first, a vision of poise in black that shimmered like oil under the candlelight. Camilla walked at her side in emerald velvet, mischievous eyes dancing behind a half-mask
The whispers began at once.
"Is that the rumored La Rosa Negra?"
"She's even more beautiful than i imagined"
"They say she killed her own parents."
"No, she toys with men, then destroys them."
"I heard she died once... and clawed her way back up"
"They say she bathes in blood."
The rumors spun like silk threads, weaving her into something less human, more myth. Isabella heard every word, though her expression never shifted. She descended the marble steps as though born to command marble halls.
Camilla smirked, leaning close with a whisper" They make you sound like a vampire. Should I be scared?"
"Of me?" Isabella murmured, the faintest curl at her lips. "Always".
Across the hall, Alistair lifted his glass, eyes narrowing with interest. He leaned slightly towards his cousin Damian. "No mask could hide her," Alistair murmured. "She's the only one in the room that doesn't need to pretend". Damian chuckled, eyes sliding to Camilla instead. "Her cousin's fire is just as dangerous. I'd risk a burn."
Alistair smirked. "You always did like trouble."
Camilla noticed Damian's stare. Mischief sparked. She let her gaze linger a moment longer than necessary before turning away. Damian's grin deepened. For him, the game had only just begun.
At the edges of the hall, Sebastian stood in quiet watch, his broad frame blending into shadow. His green eyes strayed from Isabella. Silent, Steadfast, yet Marcus beside him, watched Sebastian more than he watched the party.
"Careful," Marcus said under his breath, lips quirking into a knowing smirk. "Guard dogs sometimes forget they have hearts." Sebastian stiffened but said nothing. Marcus let the silence linger, his own gaze softening for a fleeting moment before he turned, hiding more than he revealed.
All around the room, people began to move. Some approached Alistair with polite smiles and hidden agendas, their words dripping with offers and favors. Others circled Isabella, men whose eyes gleamed with desire despite the whispered stories of her cruelty. Women too, dressed in jewels, offered compliments laced with envy and invitation.
Isabella bore them all with the cold grace of a queen. Her gaze cut sharper than any blade. She gave nothing, but in her silence was power. Those who lingered too long shifted uneasily under her stare, some retreating with muttered apologies. A few, bolder or more foolish, stayed longer wanting her crown, her beauty, or perhaps to test if the rumors of her lethality were true.
Camilla, unlike Isabella, delighted in attention. She laughed easily, her charm disarming. Yet when Damian finally stepped forward, glass in hand, her grin widened a bit.
"You've been staring at me," she said, arching a brow. "Correction" Damian replied smoothly, bowing slightly, "I've been admiring". His hazel eyes glinted with mischief, matching her own. "Flattery's cheap."
"So is pretending you don't enjoy it".
Camilla bit her lips with a smile. "You're dangerous." Damian leaned in close enough that only she could hear. "Not half as dangerous as your cousin, I'm told."
Their laughter drew a few stares, but neither cared. Damian took her hand, pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles. Camilla allowed it. For now.
Across the room, Isabella's gaze flicked towards them once. Just once. A silent warning. Damian felt it, but didn't flinch. Instead, his smirk grew wider.
Meanwhile, Alistair finally moved. He cut through the crowd like a blade through silk, each step measured. His half mask glittered black and gold, but his eyes remained uncovered, intent and piercing.
When he stopped before Isabella, the room seemed to hush again.
"Signora Wilson," he greeted, his voice a low timbre. "Your reputation precedes you."
Isabella regarded him coolly, tilting her head. "And yours fails to impress me."
A ripple of laughter rose from nearby guests, quickly silenced when Alistair's smile did not waver. He bowed slightly, never breaking eye contact.
"Then i shall work harder"
Isabella's lips curved faintly. It was not warmth, it was a challenge. "Be careful. Effort can be dangerous in this world."
"So can indifference," Alistair countered smoothly.
For a heartbeat, their gazes locked, the air charged between them. Around them, whispers grew: The Wilson heir and D'Amato heir talking.... what could it mean? More danger or an alliance.
Yet even as Isabella allowed this game to unfold, she felt the weight of Sebastian's stare. She did not need to look to know how tense he was, disapproving. Marcus, on the other hand, was watching Sebastian more closely than ever, his jaw tight with something unspoken.
The music swelled again, dancers spilling onto the floor. Damian drew Camilla with him, their laughter echoing as they disappeared into the swirl of the masked bodies. Alistair extended a hand to Isabella, but she only regarded it coolly. "I don't dance," she said.
"Then I shall consider myself lucky," he replied, withdrawing gracefully. "To have spoken with one woman who makes even silence a weapon"
Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
By the time the music ended, people had begun to circle back again. someone's son tried to press his suit, whispering of alliances. A jeweled heiress murmured invitations, hoping to tie her name to Alistair's. A masked man made his intent plain with the heat of his gaze. Each attempt was cut short by Isabella's ice-cold stare. Yet the truth remained that no rumor, no fear, could stop desire or ambition from reaching towards her.
And from across the floor, Alistair watched, interest growing sharper with every passing moment.
At the edge of the ballroom, Marcus shifted his weight, eyes narrowing as Sebastian's fists clenched briefly before relaxing again. The mask hid Marcus's longing, but not from himself. He leaned closer, voice low, almost inaudible.
"One day," Marcus murmured, half to himself, "you'll realize she's not the only one worth guarding."
but Sebastian did not hear. His eyes remained fixed only on Isabella, the woman who had no idea of the storm already beginning to gather around her.