Chapter 22 I can’t take what I can’t protect.
Dante's POV.
The first time she sat outside my office, pretending not to listen to the board meeting tearing each other apart inside, I knew something didn’t add up.
Not in her. In me.
Isla sat straight-backed, she held a slim tablet against her chest. Her face was calm, eyes focused.
She belonged in rooms like this.
“Send them in,”I said.
She moved instantly. No hesitation, no nerves. No looking around to check if she was allowed.
She opened the door, voice clear, posture steady. When the board members passed her, their eyes couldn’t get off her.
They were already measuring, and judging. Already trying to place her.
I didn’t correct them, I just let them wonder.
The meeting was sharp, numbered and pressured. They made indirect attempts to corner her. One of them leaned back and asked. “Is it necessary to have her here?”
“Yes,” I said without looking away. “She is.”
There was silence. Isla didn’t react and that mattered.
When the meeting ended, the room emptied slowly.
“You handled that well,” said, when everyone was out.
She looked up, surprised. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to,” I replied. “You stayed steady.”
When her lips curved, just a trace. A smile landed somewhere low in my chest.
I stood and crossed the room, not close enough to crowd her, just close enough that she could feel me.
“They’ll test you,” I said. “Anyone close to me gets tested.”
“I can manage,” she replied quietly.
I just believe her without doubt.
We moved through the building together afterward. Corridors opened, conversations paused, people looked.
I placed my hand at her lower back internationally.
Her breath caught. Mine didn’t.
She glanced up at me. “Is that… necessary?”
“Yes.”
Lucia was waiting close to the elevator. Like she always did.
Perfect hair. Perfect dress, and a sharp smile.
“There you are,” she said lightly, eyes sliding to Isla. “I was beginning to think I’d missed you.”
I didn’t correct her or greet her. “This isn’t a good time,” I said.
She shifted her head. “For me, or for her.”
Isla stiffened. I felt it. “She’s with me,” I said.
Lucia’s smile thinned. “I see.”
Her eyes moved on Isla for a moment too long. “May I speak to you?” She asked. “Privately.”
“No.”
Her eyes flickered. “There are things you should know.”
“There aren’t.”
She stepped closer anyway, lowering her voice. “Does she know about what you and your brother did?”
My jaw tightened.
“Do you think you can hide that from her forever?” Lucia murmured. “The truth can’t be hidden forever and you know that.”
I leaned in just enough to block Isla from her view.
“If you breathe a word,” I said calmly, “your family’s protection disappears.”
The smiles on her face faded. “You wouldn’t dismantle…”
“I already have the paperwork,” I cut in. “Stay away from her.”
She swallowed hard. She gave a gentle laugh. “You’re making her dependent.”
“I’m making her safe.”
She looked past me one last time, then at Isla, then stepped back.
“Enjoy your day,” she said.
And then she left.
Isla exhaled slowly. “Is she always like that?”
“No,” I said. “She acts too smart.”
Back in my office, work resumed. Isla took notes, organized files and anticipated questions before I asked.
I corrected a senior executive when he spoke over her.
“She was speaking.” He apologized to her.
At lunch, I brought her food instead of dismissing her.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“I want to.”
She looked at me for a moment. “Why?”
“Because you deserve it.”
Her expression softened. Something fragile warmed behind her eyes.
And that warmth touched something inside of me.
By evening, the city lights glowed through the glasses. “You should go home,” I said.
She hesitated. “I don’t mind staying.”
“I do,” I replied. “You need rest.”
She gave a gentle smile. “You sound like you care.”
I didn’t deny it. Because I do. She doesn’t even know how much she means to me. She doesn’t know what she was doing to me.
“I do.”
The truth sat between us, unhidden.
When she left, I stood alone in the quiet office, I still felt her presence around me.
She is mine.
And anyone who threatened her. Lucia, my brother, even the past itself would learn how far I was willing to go.
The door fully closed before I reached for my phone.
“Security,” I said when the line connected. “Double detail on Isla. Make sure she doesn’t notice.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And reroute her daily schedule through my office first.”
There was a pause. “Yes, sir.”
I ended the call and leaned back against my desk, staring at the city.
The following day came with a tension that felt dangerous.
Isla arrived early. Always prepared. Always calm. She learned my preferences without asking.
She adjusted without instructions. She didn’t hover or fawn, she didn’t play the role people are expected to when they get close to power.
She worked. And the more she worked, the more the building shifted around her.
People addressed her directly. Waited for her nod before processing. Checked with her before coming to me.
I allowed it. Encouraged it.
When a department head questioned her authority in front of others, I didn’t raise my voice.
“She speaks for me,” I said, eyes steady. “If that’s unclear, you can leave.”
He didn’t test me again. And neither did anyone else.
I watched her absorb the change with caution.
One afternoon at lunch, she hesitated before sitting across from me.
“Is this going to be permanent?” she asked.
The question wasn’t about the job, but I answered anyway.
“Nothing here is temporary,” I said.
Her fingers tightened around her glass. “That’s what worries me.”
I didn’t smile. “It shouldn’t,” I replied. “I don’t take what I can’t protect.”
She held her gaze, longer than she should. I already knew something in her was touched.
Lucia didn’t appear, she moved around.
She sent flowers to my office. I had them removed before Isla arrived.
She appeared at events uninvited. I placed Isla beside me every time.
Publicly. Visibly. And untouchable.
At one charity gala, Lucia appeared, approaching with her weird smile.
“You’ve replaced me quickly,” she said, eyes on Isla, hands resting on mine.
“I don’t replace,” I said. “I choose.”
Isla stiffened, Lucia noticed.
“Be careful,” Lucia murmured softly, just loud enough to be heard. “Some choices come with consequences.”
I then turned fully to her. “You’re running out of grace,” I said. “Use what’s left wisely.”
The smile on her face faded.
Isla didn’t ask any questions. And that pleased me so much.
The board meeting next week was designed to test her.
I just let it happen.
They pressed on her logistics. On her experience. And on her authority. One of them sat forward and asked. “You’re too young to be sitting where you are.”
Isla didn’t look at me. “I’m capable,” she said evenly. “Those aren’t the same thing.”
A pause. I watched the air in the room change.
When the meeting ended, I didn’t praise her.
I just handed her a new access card.
Her eyes widened slightly. “This gives you…”
“Everything you need,” I said.
“And the cost?” She asked quietly.
And there it was. I stepped a little closer to her.
“The cost,” I said. “Is staying.”
Her breath caught. She nodded.
That night, after the building emptied, she stayed.
I didn’t ask her to, she just decided to.
She stood by the window, city lights reflecting in her eyes. “I don’t know if I’m free,” she said suddenly.
“You are.” I replied.
Her voice softened. “I’ve never been given anything without owing something back.”
I moved closer. Close enough that she could feel my breath.
“You don’t owe me,” I said. “But you’re mine.”
She turned. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t step closer either.
“What does that mean?” She asked.
“It means,” I said calmly. “No one touches you without answering to me.”
Her breath hitched. “And if I leave?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Then I follow.”
This honesty startled her. I felt it.
Later, when I was alone again, my phone vibrated.
A message from an encrypted line.
She’s been asking questions.
Lucia. I stared at the screen, jaw tightening.
I just typed one response. End it.
The reply came seconds later. Which way?
I looked out at the city, thought of Isla’s careful hope, her fear, the way she stood beside me like I was all she’d got.
All ways. I typed.
Somewhere deep inside of me, something shifted.
Because if the truth came out… I wouldn’t lose her.
I would burn everything first.