Isabella's POV
The dress I chose was daring: a shimmery black mini that hugged my curves and left my back bare, the kind of dress that whispered trouble. Gold heels waited at my feet, gleaming like tiny daggers, and I added matching bangles, a delicate necklace that caught the light with every turn, and a small gold clutch.
My hair fell in loose waves, tumbling effortlessly over my shoulders, and I applied a quick layer of smoky eyeshadow, mascara, and a swipe of glossy nude-pink on my lips. The result: dangerous, confident, untouchable.
I leaned closer to the mirror, smirk tugging at my mouth. "Time to start a little war," I whispered, blowing my reflection a kiss before grabbing my clutch.
I crept down the hallway, heels dangling from my fingers so they wouldn't betray me against the marble floors. Every creak of the wood, every shift of the shadows set my pulse racing. Guards, staff, family—they were always listening, always watching. One wrong sound, and my father would know before I even made it to the garage.
The hallway stretched long and shadowed, lit only by the muted glow of sconces. I paused at the corner, head tilting just enough to catch the faint hum of a guard's radio near the back stairs. Too risky. I veered right instead, toward the service corridor, counting my steps to avoid the one floorboard I knew always betrayed me with a groan.
Every detail of this house was burned into my memory—where the cameras turned, how often the staff rotated shifts, the spots of darkness that let me slip through unseen. It was a game, really, and one I'd mastered.
I reached the garage and spotted the sleek black car waiting.
I moved fast, heart pounding, breath measured. Freedom was just a few steps away—until a voice, smooth and low, cut through the dark.
"Going somewhere, Bella?"
I spun around. Dante, my personal bodyguard, leaned against the side of the car, arms crossed, dark eyes sharp and unyielding.
"I—I just needed a quick drive," I said, forcing casual calm.
"Dressed like that?" His voice strained.
"Why? Too much?" I asked, twirling a strand of my hair with mock innocence.
His scowl deepened. "Too much for Naples. Too much for anywhere. Your father will bury me alive if he sees you like this."
"Relax, Dante. I'll cover for you if he finds out. So you have a choice: take me, or let me go on my own. Either way, we both know which is worse."
He ran a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. "You'll be the death of me, principessa."
I smirked. "Better me than boredom, no?"
His jaw clenched, but he stepped aside. "Get in. Let's make it quick."
The engine roared as we pulled away, leaving the villa's oppressive walls behind.
"Where am I chauffeuring you tonight?" he asked flatly, eyes fixed on the road.
I leaned back, crossing my legs slowly, deliberately. "Somewhere with music, lights, and men who don't look like they'd rather be babysitting."
He shot me a sharp look. "Careful."
I grinned. "What? Afraid I'll have fun?"
"Afraid you'll get me killed," he muttered.
Serena slid into the car a few minutes later, glitter clutch in hand, perfume like wildflowers filling the air. "Oh, Dio," she laughed when she caught Dante's expression. "Look at you, Dante—you already look like you're regretting this. Don't worry, I'll keep her out of trouble."
"That'll be the day," Dante muttered.
"Relax," I said sweetly. "We'll be back before sunrise. Maybe."
Dante groaned and muttered something about early retirement. Serena and I burst into laughter, high-pitched and giddy, and even he cracked the faintest smile before turning up the radio to drown us out.
By the time we arrived, the club pulsed with life. Lights strobed across the dance floor, a beat that vibrated through every bone. Serena led the way toward a central booth where three people were already waiting—her infamous friends.
"Isabella, these are my people—Dario, Violet, and Nico," Serena said proudly.
I gave a small wave. "Hi, nice to meet you all."
Violet, a blonde with bright blue eyes, leaned forward with a grin. "Wow, you both look amazing tonight—absolutely glowing."
I laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind my shoulder. "Thanks, you look gorgeous too! If I had your cheekbones, I'd never stop taking selfies."
Violet giggled, clutching my hand like we were already friends.
Dario's smirk was sharp, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "So this is the infamous Isabella."
I arched a brow, unbothered. "Infamous already? I must be doing something right."
I tilted my head. "Oh, I noticed you. You've got that whole brooding, protective-friend energy. I like it."
He chuckled. "Dangerous one, this girl. Serena, what did you bring us?"
"Trouble," Serena declared. "The best kind."
Then there was Nico. Tall, blond, piercing blue eyes that lingered too long. He didn't say much at first, just let his gaze travel deliberately, like he was cataloging every inch of me.
Finally, he smirked. "So this is Isabella. Serena undersold you."
"Undersold?" I echoed, arching a brow. "What did she say—quiet, demure, the picture of obedience?"
"Something like that." He leaned closer, voice low. "But I don't think that's you at all."
I grinned, tilting my head. "Good. I'd hate to be predictable."
The music swallowed us whole. Drinks in hand, laughter spilling from our mouths, the night ignited. Every gesture was a statement: I was not a doll, I was not a prize.
On the dance floor, Nico found his way to me again. "You don't dance like someone who's used to being watched," he said against the music.
"Who knows, maybe I like giving them something to watch."
His smile was sharp, intrigued. "Careful, princess. Men might start falling at your feet."
"Let them fall. I'll step right over them."
He laughed, pulling me closer, and I let him. His hands skimmed my waist lightly, testing boundaries, and I leaned back just enough to make him chase. Flirty, dangerous, controlled—every move deliberate.
For the first time in forever, I felt untamed. Alive.
Serena vanished to the bathroom with Violet, leaving me with Nico's attention burning into me. He leaned close, breath brushing my ear. "You're not what I expected."
"And what did you expect?" I shot back.
He smirked. "Someone breakable."
I spun under his arm, hair flying, meeting his eyes when I came back to face him. "Try again."
The beat carried us, hips brushing, hands grazing, the world shrinking to rhythm and neon lights. I was spinning, laughing, teasing, untethered—
And then—a shadow blocked the lights. Cold. Sharp.
Damiano.
My stomach dropped.
Before I could react, his hand struck Nico square in the face. The crack split the air, cutting straight through the music.
Time froze. The lights blurred, the crowd gasped, and I just stood there, rooted. Shock. Fury. Fear. They all collided inside me so fast I couldn't breathe. My body moved on instinct, stepping back, one hand half-lifted like I could shield myself from the weight of his presence.
Nico staggered, clutching his jaw. Dante appeared at the edge of the crowd, face pale, torn between stepping in and knowing it would cost him his life. Even he didn't move. No one did.
Damiano's gaze snapped to me, dark and merciless. Without a word, his hand clamped around my wrist, burning hot and unyielding.
"Let me go!" I hissed, struggling against him, but he didn't falter. He dragged me through the crowd, past the lights and laughter, past the stunned faces that dared not intervene.
The night I thought was mine was hijacked—stolen in an instant—by the man I was supposed to marry.