Chapter 105
When the food arrived, Isabella's eyes widened slightly.
Vitale had ordered all the dishes she loved.
"How did you know I like these?" Isabella asked softly, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the knife and fork.
"I pay attention," Vitale said simply, setting down his wine glass. "The takeout you order when working late, the salads you eat for lunch, and that time on the yacht when you stared at the chef's truffle risotto for ages but only ordered clear soup. I remember every detail, Isabella."
A warm feeling surged through Isabella's heart.
She was really hungry.
She had slept for a few hours without eating and then rushed to this date, so she ate quickly.
Across the table, Vitale showed no sign of surprise or judgment.
He just watched Isabella, his eyes filled with pure, indulgent admiration.
He liked seeing her like this, real, unpretentious, completely immersed in the moment's joy.
In his world, everyone wore masks, spoke rehearsed lies, and played the roles others expected.
But Isabella was different.
She frowned when angry, smiled when happy, ate heartily when hungry, and dozed off on someone's shoulder when tired.
She was so real, like a beam of light piercing through the darkness of his world.
So when Isabella choked a little from eating too fast and hurriedly grabbed her water glass, Vitale just reached over and gently patted her back.
"Take your time. No one's stealing your food."
Isabella's face turned red, but this time from embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm just really hungry."
"I know," Vitale said, finally picking up his own knife and fork to start on his steak.
He cut it into small pieces, his movements graceful and calm, a stark contrast to Isabella's earlier rush.
Isabella watched him, a complicated sense of gratitude welling up inside her.
So she relaxed and continued enjoying her food, just slowing down a bit.
When she finally finished, letting out a satisfied sigh and leaning back in her chair, Vitale's phone vibrated. The screen showed Henley's name.
He answered and put it on speaker so Isabella could hear the conversation.
"Boss," Henley's voice came through, "we've checked the surroundings. Inside the restaurant, we have three of our people disguised as waiters and customers. Outside on the street, there are four more, with two cars on standby. So far, no suspicious individuals, no sniper points, no potential threats. You can enjoy your date without worry."
Vitale replied, "Good work. Stay alert. Notify me immediately if anything comes up."
"Understood."
The call ended.
Isabella sat across from him, looking a bit shocked.
"I didn't know our date would involve all this. Bodyguards, security checks, sniper point sweeps—this sounds like a presidential outing, not a dinner date."
Vitale set down his phone, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and his expression turned serious, losing the earlier softness.
"Isabella, you need to understand that my world comes with gunfire. Not as a metaphor, but real gunfire, death threats, family grudges, and schemes from business rivals. These are part of my daily life, and now, because you're with me, they're part of yours too."
Vitale reached out, taking Isabella's hand, his fingers warm and firm.
"I can't let you be scared, and I definitely can't let you get hurt, so I have to arrange all this. Bodyguards, security checks, and every necessary precaution. It's not to show off power or control you. It's to protect you. Because in this world, you're the most precious and most vulnerable thing to me."
Isabella looked into Vitale's eyes, seeing the swirling darkness and determination within them.
She knew he meant every word.
She nodded and squeezed his hand back. "I get it. You're keeping me safe. I accept it, but I just need some time to get used to it."
Vitale seemed to relax a little.
He let go of her hand, picked up the coffee pot, and poured her a cup of hot coffee, his actions as natural as any caring partner's.
"One more thing," Vitale said, sliding the coffee cup toward her. "Victor contacted me this afternoon. He said the group of killers who murdered Liliana have recently come to Thalassia. It might be a coincidence, or it might be for another job, but he told me to stay on guard."
His voice was calm, but Isabella could sense the tension beneath it.
"You know," Vitale continued, his gaze growing distant, "I want to catch them so badly it drives me crazy. But I don't want our first official date to be tainted by bloodshed or to scare you. So tonight, I've arranged extra security, double the usual number of people."
Isabella's heart tightened. "I understand, Vitale, but you don't have to, I mean, if there's real danger, we can reschedule, we can—"
"No," Vitale interrupted, his voice firm. "I've made you wait long enough. Our first official date shouldn't be canceled because of those dark things. I just want you to know why there are so many bodyguards and why I need to take those calls. This place, I feel it's very safe. From the management to the waiters, they're all people I can trust. The dome is made of bulletproof glass, there's a safe room underground, and there are three escape routes. I didn't choose this place by accident."
"Alright," Isabella said, picking up her coffee cup and taking a small sip. "So, do you have anything else planned next? Or is dinner the end of it?"
A familiar mischievous smirk appeared on Vitale's lips. "Do you want to see a beach fireworks show? The fireworks are custom-made, and the patterns can be designed."
Isabella's eyes lit up. "I'm very interested. I've never seen a private fireworks show before."
"Then it's settled," Vitale said, his smile growing brighter.
Just then, his phone rang again.
Isabella saw the name on the screen—Victor.
Vitale's expression shifted slightly.
It was a subtle change, but Isabella caught it.
It was a mix of irritation and concern.
He stood up, picked up the phone, and gave Isabella an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I might need to take this call."
Isabella nodded understandingly. "Okay, I'll stay right here. I won't wander off. Go ahead."
Vitale leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I'll be right back."
Then he turned and walked toward the terrace area on the other side of the restaurant.
There, glass doors provided privacy, allowing conversations without being overheard.
Vitale answered the phone, and before he could speak, he heard Victor's voice, almost roaring.
"Vitale! You didn't bring Isabella to Starry Sky, did you? That restaurant run by the mafia, the one every family knows is your territory?"
Vitale leaned against the railing, pulling a cigar from his pocket. He didn't light it, just toyed with it between his fingers.
"Calm down, Victor. Yes, I'm at Starry Sky with Isabella."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by suppressed anger. "Do you know what that means? Showing up with her in public at that place? You know every family's spies will see, everyone will know—"
"It means everyone will know I love Isabella," Vitale interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "It means I'm publicly declaring she's my woman. It means anyone who wants to touch her has to go through me first. Yes, I know, and I love her, Victor. I'm not planning to hide it."
There was a brief silence.
Vitale could hear Victor taking deep breaths on the other end, imagining his right eye twitching.
It was a habit Victor had when he was extremely angry or worried.
"Are you ready for this?" Victor finally spoke, his voice low and serious. "Ready to accept this fate? To become the talk of the entire underworld? To be the target of those who envy you, hate you, or want to replace you? And not just you—her. They'll try to hurt you by hurting her."
Vitale's gaze passed through the glass wall, landing on Isabella in the restaurant.
She was sitting quietly, sipping her coffee, her blonde hair glowing like melted gold in the candlelight, her profile soft and focused.
She was waiting for him.
"Yes," Vitale said softly, with no trace of hesitation in his voice. "I'm ready."
"And what about Isabella?" Victor pressed, a hint of almost pity in his tone. "Is she ready to step into your world? Your bloody, violent, morally bankrupt world? Vitale, she'll see you kill, or at least, see you give the order to kill. She'll hear gunshots, smell blood, lose sleep, have nightmares. She won't sleep well anymore, Vitale. Do you really want her to go through that?"
Vitale's brows furrowed, his fingers tightening, nearly crushing the cigar.
"Don't scare Isabella," he hissed, his voice laced with suppressed anger. "I won't let her lose sleep. If she can't sleep, there'll only be one reason—being with me, fucking until she's so tired she can't keep her eyes open and falls asleep in my arms. I'll fill all her nights with my cock, my kisses, my love, so she has no time for nightmares."
There was a long silence on the other end.
Then Victor laughed. "You're really crazy."
Vitale laughed too, but there was no joy in it, only a kind of tragic determination.
"Maybe," he admitted, his gaze returning to Isabella in the restaurant. "After all, my father was crazy, throwing those winter sex parties, making all the families ally or feud in the middle of the chaos. Madness might run in the Luca family's blood."
Vitale paused, a challenging smirk tugging at his lips. "Victor, speaking of winter parties, why don't you go to one? I hear there are a few new faces this year who might be your type."
Victor scoffed. "Vitale, you're such a jerk. You know I don't mess with women."
Vitale chuckled, a malicious edge to his laughter. "I know, that's why I asked—just to see how you'd react."
Victor cursed and hung up the phone.