Chapter 3
Here, Sonia's fingers traced circles on Colt's bare chest: "Honey, that red-haired man with tattoos, who is he?"
"Why are you all so afraid of him?"
Colt grinned, showing his white teeth: "Honey, you're asking about Vitale?"
"That's the Wolf of Sicily, the real ruler of these waters. Isabella's really asking for trouble this time."
Sonia's nails dug deep into her palms.
Isabella, that sister who always acted so pure and innocent, had casually caught the most dangerous and powerful man in these waters.
Jealousy gnawed at her heart like a poisonous snake.
"I'm just curious." Sonia forced a smile, but she'd already made up her mind.
Half an hour later, after Colt left, Sonia changed into an overly tight maid's dress, held a carefully prepared drink, and stood before the carved wooden door of the VIP suite, knocking.
The door opened, and Vitale's tall figure almost filled the entire doorframe.
He was only wearing a bath towel casually wrapped around him, his bare upper body showing defined muscles, that cheetah tattoo looking as if it might leap off his skin at any moment.
Sonia felt her mouth go dry.
"Sir, this is a complimentary drink from the suite." She tried to make her voice sound natural.
Vitale's sharp gaze swept over her, then landed on the tray in her hands. "I didn't order anything."
Sonia took the opportunity to step forward, almost pressing against him: "Please let me serve you."
She deliberately leaned forward, revealing her deep cleavage.
Vitale took the glass, drained it in one gulp, then placed the empty glass back on the tray: "You can go now."
"I can provide other services." Sonia unwillingly stroked her neck, striking a seductive pose.
"Not needed." The door closed unceremoniously in her face.
Sonia stomped her feet in anger outside the door before leaving.
Isabella woke up to an enticing aroma.
She put on a robe and followed the scent to the suite's small kitchen.
Vitale had his back to her, frying eggs.
He was only wearing pants, his back muscles flexing with his movements, his red hair casually tied back.
The scene was unexpectedly domestic, far from her image of a mafia godfather.
"You're awake?" Vitale didn't turn around, yet keenly sensed her presence.
Isabella nodded, then realized he couldn't see her and hurriedly spoke: "You're making breakfast?"
He turned around, placing the plate on the counter, "Hope it's to your taste."
At that moment, Isabella noticed the fine beads of sweat on his forehead and his whitened knuckles gripping the pan handle.
"Are you okay?" she asked with concern.
Vitale didn't answer immediately, but suddenly reached out and pulled her onto his lap.
Isabella cried out, caught off guard as she fell into his burning embrace.
"Remember last night's bet?" His voice was hoarse, his arms locked around her waist like iron bands, "You lost, but I didn't immediately claim my prize."
Isabella nodded nervously.
She could feel his hard, hot desire pressed against her through his pants, which both frightened and strangely excited her.
"Do you know why?" Vitale's fingers lightly traced over Isabella's collarbone, leaving a trail of shivers.
She shook her head, barely able to think.
"Because I wanted to wait for you to tell me yourself," Vitale's lips approached her ear, his breath burning, "that you would willingly stay."
After witnessing his danger, his power, and his unexpected tenderness, she did want to stay.
"I'll stay." Isabella said softly, feeling his arms tighten around her.
Vitale let out a nearly satisfied sigh, then suddenly released her: "Go take a shower. There's an outfit in the bathroom. Change into it and come show me."
Isabella noticed the bulging veins at his temples and his extreme restraint: "Are you sure you're okay?"
He turned and poured a glass of ice water, draining it in one gulp: "When you come out, I'll tell you what's wrong with me."
Isabella walked hesitantly toward the bathroom, filled with confusion.
When she saw the outfit hanging in the bathroom, she immediately understood Vitale's condition.
It was an exquisite black bunny girl costume.
A tight corset, fishnet stockings, a fluffy tail, and a pair of cute bunny ears.
Imagining herself appearing before him in this, Isabella's cheeks instantly flushed.
What made her heart race even more was imagining how eagerly Vitale would tear off this fragile fabric.
Hot water washed over her body, also washing away her hesitation.
When Isabella finally gathered the courage to put on that shameful outfit, she barely recognized herself in the mirror.
Was that woman with hazy eyes and seductive posture really her?
When she walked out of the bathroom, Vitale was standing by the window.
Hearing the sound, he turned around, his eyes instantly darkening like night.
"I..." Isabella twisted her fingers, gathering courage to voice the decision she'd been mulling over, "I won't have sex with a stranger."
Vitale slowly approached, his fingers lightly caressing her burning cheek: "I'm Vitale. What's your name?"
Isabella blurted out a fake name without thinking: "Isalan Brown."
"Now, we're no longer strangers." His touch made her tremble, "So, Isalan, are you ready to fulfill the bet?"
Isabella's hands pressed against Vitale's solid chest, her fingertips clearly feeling the contours and warmth of muscles beneath the fabric.
His eyes churned with undisguised desire, like surging tides in the dark night, almost ready to swallow her whole.
"I..." Her voice unconsciously trembled, her cheeks flushing pink, "I might not be ready yet."
"No, I don't mean to back out, it's just..." Isabella took a deep breath and continued, "Maybe we need a bit of security? Yes, security."
Vitale chuckled low, his rough fingertips casually brushing aside the golden strands of hair falling across her forehead.
"So," his voice was deep, carrying a dangerous magnetism, "you're backing out, little gambler?"
"No! That's not it!" Isabella hastily denied, his approach making her breathe rapidly, "I'm not backing out."
"I just think before this kind of thing happens, shouldn't we exchange some items or personal matters that could make each other feel secure?"
"Tell me," Vitale's deep blue eyes were close, like a storm-laden deep sea, "what kind of security do you want?"
Isabella suddenly didn't know how to say it properly.
She really didn't know what specifically she wanted, just a stubborn notion driving her.
She couldn't just give away her body so carelessly, even if it was to Vitale, even though he was a thousand times better than that scumbag Colt.