Chapter 72
When Victor trapped Isabella in the corner of the emergency exit, his hands pressed against the walls on either side of her, forming an inescapable cage.
The green light of the hallway's emergency lamp cast eerie shadows on his face, and those blue eyes, so similar to Vitale's, held no warmth.
"Listen, little beauty," his voice was low, like a snake hissing, "Vitale is my closest brother. If you hurt him, even by accident, I'll personally kill you in every way I can think of."
Victor leaned closer, his nose almost touching Isabella's. "I'll make sure your family, your sweet little roommates, all see you gutted. I'll put your heart in an antique box and send it to your dear father, the lawyer in Lumaria. Do you understand?"
Isabella felt fear spreading like ice water down her spine, but it was quickly overtaken by a stronger wave of anger.
This Victor was a lunatic.
A lunatic who thought he was protecting Vitale, but was actually pushing him onto a lonely island.
"Get away from me," she said through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with rage.
Victor raised an eyebrow and said something in Eldorian, probably an insult.
But Isabella caught the most important part.
He was questioning her worth to Vitale.
"I don't need Vitale's protection," she met his gaze, each word sharp and forceful. "In fact, I'll protect him. Do you hear me?"
Victor's eyes widened. "What?"
"I said," Isabella repeated, her voice steadier than before, "he might not be strong enough right now, not against you, not against Costa, not against the whole underworld."
"But I am strong enough, so you stay away from him. Got it?"
She was bluffing, Isabella knew that.
The gun holster at Victor's waist was clearly visible. The emergency exit was empty. If he wanted to, he could make her disappear in an instant.
But she had to take the gamble.
She bet that Victor wouldn't dare to truly harm her on Vitale's turf, bet that the mark Vitale had left on her was enough to intimidate this madman.
Victor stared at her for a long time, then suddenly laughed.
Not the mocking laugh from before, but one mixed with evaluation and surprise. "If he wanted you gone, he'd tell you himself. But he hasn't, has he?"
"So," Isabella seized the opening, "this is between you and me. It has nothing to do with him."
Just as Victor's expression shifted slightly, the emergency exit door swung open.
Vitale stood there, the hallway light flooding in from behind him, outlining his figure like a shadow.
But the look on his face was clear.
Cold, dangerous, like a lion whose territory had been invaded.
Vitale strode over, grabbed Isabella's wrist, and pulled her behind him.
His movements weren't gentle, even a bit rough, but the protective stance was unmistakable.
"Mr. Rossi invited us to dinner," Vitale's voice was eerily calm, his eyes locked on Victor. "We need to go."
He didn't ask what happened, didn't question Victor.
But the clash in their gazes said it all.
A warning, a challenge, and some kind of family code Isabella couldn't decipher.
As they headed downstairs, Vitale was on the phone, speaking Eldorian quickly and quietly.
Isabella followed half a step behind, staring at his broad back, wondering if she should tell him about the earlier conversation.
In the end, she decided against it.
Vitale already had too much on his plate. She didn't want to be another burden.
Before reaching the restaurant, Vitale had Henley stop in front of a high-end tailor shop.
"Ten minutes," he said to Isabella, handing her a black card. "Pick a suitable evening dress."
But when Isabella walked into the shop, she found the staff had already prepared everything.
A deep blue silk gown, perfectly tailored.
Along with it were black stockings, a pair of silver-white heels, and a set of lace thong underwear.
Isabella blushed, looking at the underwear, but eventually put it on.
She barely recognized herself in the mirror.
The dress was cut diagonally from the shoulder, cinched at the waist, with a high slit at the leg.
The deep blue made her blonde hair and blue eyes stand out, while the stockings shimmered subtly under the light, exuding a hint of allure.
When she returned to the car, the atmosphere felt even stranger.
Victor was already in the back seat. Vitale opened the front passenger door. "Sit here."
Isabella obeyed and got in.
Vitale closed the door for her, a certain restraint in his actions making her heart tighten.
She glanced at Henley in the driver's seat, silently asking with her eyes what was going on.
Henley just shrugged and adjusted the rearview mirror.
It allowed Isabella to see Vitale's face in the reflection.
As the car started, Vitale began to explain. "This meeting is important. Blake isn't just a business partner; he's also a middleman for several families. Tonight, he wants to assess Tyson Group's strength and decide if he'll support us in the upcoming mess."
He paused, his gaze meeting Isabella's in the mirror. "I need everyone to stay quiet unless directly spoken to. Laura."
Laura, sitting in the back row, immediately sat up straight.
"Blake might ask you about market analysis. You need to show your expertise."
Laura's eyes widened in shock. "Really? But I think Isabella is better at this. You should let her—"
"This meeting needs you," Vitale cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Then he looked back at Isabella in the mirror. "Of course, you have a role too. Stay by my side at all times. If Blake tries to mess with the company or makes unreasonable demands, that's when you step in."
"Understood, Mr. Luca," Isabella replied in her most professional tone.
Vitale's fingers tightened on his knee for a split second.
He didn't like her calling him that.
Too formal, too distant.
But he had to put up with it.
Because Victor was watching, because Blake would be observing, because the entire underworld was waiting to see if Isabella was Vitale's weakness or his armor.
He had to play this game.
Pretend she was just a capable employee, a casual fling to satisfy his physical needs, not the woman he'd fight the whole world for.
Damn it.
Just thinking of the term "casual fling" made his body betray his mind.
He craved her kiss, her touch, the warmth of being inside her.
But right now, all he could do was look at Isabella's perfect profile through the mirror, separated by two rows of seats.
The car stopped in front of a luxurious restaurant.
Vitale got out faster than the valet, rounding to the passenger side to open Isabella's door.
His fingers lightly touched her elbow.
The contact was brief but burning.
Victor shook his head as he got out, muttering to Henley, "Your boss is lovesick, you know that? He just fixed a nonexistent wrinkle on Isabella's dress. God, I'm gonna puke."