Chapter 24
Isabella came to an abrupt halt, her back slamming hard against the cold wall.
She unconsciously ran her tongue over her dry lips and said into the phone:
"Sonia, listen, there are tons of people named Isabella in the world. It doesn't have to be me."
Isabella's voice echoed slightly in the empty stairwell: "And Chris's situation has absolutely nothing to do with me. Vitale isn't that kind of person. He wouldn't just torture people for no reason, even if he is in the mafia..."
She suddenly stopped mid-sentence as a scene from that morning flashed before her eyes.
Vitale wearing an apron, frying steak in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the castle's stained glass windows, casting colorful shadows on his focused profile.
That's when he told her he'd never brought another woman there before.
And he said Isabella was his first woman, which is why he couldn't control himself and took her so many times.
"He's a good person too." Isabella forced herself to continue, as if this would convince herself. "He has my phone number, but he's never called. Remember that morning? I deliberately put the note with my number under the pillow, even left a corner sticking out..."
Her voice unconsciously dropped lower, remembering how Vitale had found another excuse to fuck her again when she was sneaking around leaving that note.
That night, after Isabella woke up, she snuck the pre-prepared note out of her bag like a thief, with her phone number written on it.
She tucked it under Vitale's pillow, deliberately leaving a corner exposed.
"You want me to contact you that badly?"
A deep voice suddenly rang out, nearly making Isabella jump.
Vitale had somehow already woken up, his deep blue eyes gleaming with mischief.
"I... no..." Isabella stammered, trying to explain, her cheeks burning hot.
Vitale pulled her back into his arms in one motion, his morning arousal obviously pressing against her thighs.
"Little liar," his kiss landed on Isabella's neck, "leaving your contact info but not even giving me a goodbye kiss?"
His large hand skillfully slipped under her nightgown, lingering on her buttocks.
"How about we play a game."
Before Isabella could react, he flipped her over and pinned her on the bed.
Her nightgown was hiked up to her waist, his burning lips trailing down along her spine.
"What's the first number?" Vitale's tongue circled in the cleft of her buttocks, making her shiver.
"3..." she answered breathlessly, fingers gripping the sheets tightly.
The wet kisses suddenly turned into gentle bites. Isabella gasped, feeling Vitale's fingers exploring between her thighs.
"The second one?" His voice carried amusement, fingertips drawing circles on her sensitive spots.
"4..." Her words turned into moans, her body arching involuntarily.
Like this, Vitale ignited flames on Isabella's body with his lips, tongue, and fingers while forcing her to recite each digit of her phone number.
When she tremblingly spoke the last digit, she was already on the edge of climax.
"Very good," Vitale chuckled lowly, suddenly lifting her hips higher, "Now, let's verify whether this number is worth remembering."
The moment she reached climax, an unfamiliar intrusion made her eyes widen.
Completely different from previous experiences, this fullness tinged with slight pain left her at a loss.
"Relax," Vitale whispered in her ear, his movements unyielding, "You'll like it."
The initial discomfort gradually gave way to a peculiar pleasure, each thrust bringing unprecedented stimulation.
He gripped Isabella's slender waist, panting in her ear:
"Say it again, what's the number?"
Isabella shook her head in a daze, but was forced to tears by harder thrusts.
"Say it," his voice carried an irresistible command, "or we'll stay in this position all day."
She recited the digits haltingly, each number accompanied by Vitale's thrusts.
When the last digit left her lips, they both reached their peak simultaneously.
Vitale leaned down on her sweat-soaked back, kissing her shoulder blade: "Now, this number is carved into my memory."
Later, when Isabella lay limp on the messy sheets, she belatedly realized.
This was probably the most expensive phone number she'd ever given out.
Isabella snapped back to reality, cursed under her breath, then tried to steady her emotions:
"We just had a one-night stand. You should be satisfied, right? We just slept together, that's all."
Sonia's shrill laughter came through the phone: "Come on! I've seen how Vitale looks at you, and that's not how you look at a one-night stand!"
Those words stung like a thorn in her heart.
She couldn't fall into another man's trap. The lesson Chris taught her was already painful enough.
"My dear Sonia," Isabella suddenly switched to an almost cruelly sweet tone, "if you're so afraid of Colt coming to find me, why don't you keep him tied to you?"
"Keep him inside your body so he can't get out, then he won't be running around. After all, spreading your legs is what you do best, isn't it?"
Dead silence fell on the other end of the line.
Sonia was clearly stunned by Isabella's crude words.
"You've changed, Isabella." Sonia finally stammered, "You never used to talk like this."
"Because I'm sick of your endless suspicions and accusations!" Isabella suddenly raised her voice, "From the dart game to today's call, you're always trying to ruin my life! I'm busy, I don't have time for your nonsense. God bless you."
"God bless you too, Isabella." Sonia's voice was oddly calm, which made Isabella feel uneasy instead.
The moment the call ended, Isabella suddenly heard muffled voices outside the fire door.
Damn it! Could someone have heard everything she just said?
She stamped her foot in frustration, covering her burning cheeks with both hands.
In the empty stairwell, Isabella felt like she'd turned back into that silly girl who left her phone number by Vitale's pillow, full of hope yet timid.
"Get a grip, Isabella." She whispered to herself, "If he wanted to find you, he would've called already."
After taking several deep breaths, she quickly fixed her hair and suit, forced on a professional expression, and pushed open the heavy fire door.
A man in a dark gray suit was standing in the hallway checking his watch.
He looked up, sharp eyes examining her through gold-rimmed glasses.
"Ms. Martinez, you're seven minutes late."
"I'm very sorry," Isabella forced herself to stay composed, "I ran into some unexpected issues on the way. I'm ready now, where will the interview take place?"
The man closed his pocket watch and stepped slightly aside: "Mr. Scott has been waiting for quite a while. He believes you should be given a chance. I hope you won't disappoint his expectations."
"Of course, thank you."
The man shrugged and led Isabella through the thick-carpeted hallway: "If you pass the interview, we'll be colleagues. Just call me Marco Lopez."
When they entered the interview room, Aria was sitting in a corner chair, giving her a worried look.
"Oh my God, I thought the devil had taken you!" Aria whispered when the others weren't paying attention.
"Just took an annoying call," Isabella whispered back, "You know."
Aria immediately nodded knowingly: "Sonia."
Isabella quickly adjusted her state and stood in the center of the room.
She straightened her back and began smoothly presenting her past successful cases.
As Isabella bowed to thank the interviewers, a familiar voice rang out from the shadows of the room:
"Ms. Martinez, your proposal is as outstanding as you are."
"Truly worthy of the woman I've chosen."