Chapter 126
Over here, Isabella's fingertips tapped unconsciously on the desk.
No messages, no calls.
Vitale must be really busy. He hadn't replied to her at all.
She told herself that he had some tough business to handle over there.
She should understand, she should be mature, but that empty feeling in her heart kept nagging at her reason.
The numbers on the document seemed to dance, and the clients' names became blurry. Isabella realized she'd been staring at the same page of the report for over twenty minutes without taking in a single word.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath.
Finally, she gave up wrestling with work, shut down the computer, and picked up her phone.
Her fingers scrolled through her contacts and stopped at Laura's name.
"I want a drink. Join me?" Isabella kept it short and sweet.
There was a two-second silence on the other end, followed by a relieved sigh, "God, you're a mind reader. I was just thinking of grabbing a drink. That jerk Amboni… forget it, I'll tell you in person. Usual spot?"
"Usual spot."
The so-called usual spot was a bar a few streets away from the office. It wasn't fancy, but the vibe was relaxed, the music wasn't too loud, and it was good for chatting.
However, when Isabella arrived, she found Laura standing outside a newly opened bar next door, waving at her.
Deafening electronic music poured out from the crack in the door, and flashing colored lights dazzled her eyes.
"Change of plans! This place just opened, and it's lively!" Laura shouted, her face showing a forced excitement, as if trying to drown her frustrations in the noise.
Isabella frowned. She had only wanted a quiet corner to pour out her troubles.
But seeing the anticipation in Laura's eyes and feeling the same restless emotions in her own heart, she nodded.
As soon as they stepped inside, their senses were completely overwhelmed.
The heavy subwoofer made the floor vibrate slightly. In the middle of the dance floor, men and women pressed close together, moving to the beat, their poses intimate and even bold.
Isabella instinctively scanned the room.
No sign of Henley.
But she knew he was there.
Maybe in some dark corner, maybe disguised as a bartender or a customer. Vitale's eyes never truly left her.
This realization made Isabella feel uneasy, yet strangely safe at the same time.
They found two barstools by the counter.
Laura, clearly familiar with the place, ordered two signature strong drinks.
"Amboni's been a total work machine lately!"
"With Vitale gone, all the pressure of the Tyson Group is on him! Meetings, negotiations, social events… he doesn't even have time to grab a meal with me! Texts take forever to get a reply, and on the phone, he barely says two words before going, 'Babe, I'm really busy right now!'"
"I feel like there's a problem between us, Isabella. He and Vitale, they're definitely hiding a lot from us."
"But we're their women. Why do they keep us out of everything? Just because we're women, are we only good for staying in pretty apartments, waiting for them to grace us with their presence?"
Isabella listened without responding right away.
She took a sip of her drink. The cold liquid slid down her throat but ignited a small fire in her stomach.
She stared at the tangled figures on the dance floor, her gaze slightly unfocused.
There was a time when she and Vitale had that kind of passionate, reckless connection.
In a dim room, in the quiet of the night, his sweat dripping onto her skin, his heavy breaths burning her ears, his strength completely overwhelming her…
But when was the last time they had that kind of closeness?
The memory was somehow blurry.
A strange sadness welled up inside her, mixing with the alcohol, making her nose sting.
Isabella leaned closer to Laura and asked, "Has Amboni been good to you lately?"
Laura paused for a moment, then nodded, only to quickly shake her head. Her expression was complicated, "Good, and not good. He never skimps on material things, and his occasional sweetness can be deadly. But it feels like there's a glass wall between us. I can see him, I can feel the warmth, but I can't touch his real heart. Isabella,"
She grabbed Isabella's arm, her eyes serious, "Tell me, are all men like them this way? Do they all have a forbidden zone in their hearts that we can never enter?"
Isabella shook her head silently.
"I don't know, Laura, but I do know I trust Vitale."
"Even if he's hiding things from me, it's for my own good. His world is too dangerous. The less I know, the safer I might be." That's the reason she kept telling herself.
Laura looked at Isabella and suddenly smiled—a smile mixed with envy and a hint of disbelief.
"Isabella, you're done for. You're so in love that you've lost all sense and judgment. How can you trust a man so completely? Especially a man like Vitale?"
"Let me ask you, when was the first time Vitale said 'I love you' to you?"
Isabella's eyes flickered with confusion as she genuinely tried to recall.
Her memories were like a foggy haze, the details unclear.
All she could remember was the way her heart raced when his deep voice said those words.
But the exact time, place, or situation? She couldn't pin it down.
"The first time?" Isabella murmured, her thoughts slowed by the alcohol, "I can't remember clearly."
She suddenly smiled, a mix of self-mockery and longing, "Maybe I need him to whisper it in my ear again, panting, for me to remember."
Laura took a knowing sip of her drink and pressed on, "What about you? When did you ever say 'I love you' to him?"
Isabella's fingers tightened around her glass.
Laura's question hit a corner of her heart that she hadn't fully examined herself.
Yes, during their intimate moments, she could be wild, call out Vitale's name, cry, or even beg. But those straightforward words always seemed stuck in her throat, lingering on the tip of her tongue, only to be silently swallowed back.
Vitale's love was like a volcanic eruption—hot and obvious.
Hers was more like a deep current—powerful but silent.
Isabella shook her head, her voice a bit unclear, "I don't think I have. There were a few times, in the heat of the moment, when the words were right there, but for some reason, I just couldn't say them."
Laura looked into her eyes and asked, "Do you love him, Isabella?"
Isabella didn't answer right away.
She downed the rest of the icy blue liquid in her glass.
The alcohol burned like a line of fire from her throat to her stomach, the heat rising up, clouding her mind. Yet, it seemed to make a voice—long suppressed by reason—suddenly clear.
The glass clinked sharply as she set it back on the bar.
Isabella turned to Laura, her eyes glossy and bright from the alcohol, but also carrying a reckless honesty.
"Yes," she said, her voice not loud, but remarkably clear and firm amidst the noisy music, "I love him."
The moment those words left her lips, Isabella herself was stunned.
It was as if a bolt of lightning had split through the fog in her heart, revealing a truth she might have known deep down but had never so clearly admitted.
Did she really love Vitale?
Not just attracted to him, not just infatuated with his power and protection, not just addicted to the dangerous thrill he brought?
In just three months, had her feelings for a mafia boss, a man with a complicated background, surpassed anything she'd ever felt for any other man?
Was that even possible?
The dizziness from the alcohol clashed with the sharp clarity of realization in Isabella's mind, leaving her feeling slightly confused and amazed.
At the same time, Vitale stood amidst a scene of chaos, exuding an almost eerie calm after a storm of rage.
Frand, still aching from the wounds on his stomach and face, looked at Vitale as if he were staring at a madman suddenly gripped by severe delusions.
"You're going to announce to the whole world that Isabella is your woman? And that she'll be the one you marry someday?" Frand repeated Vitale's earlier words, his tone dripping with disbelief, "Vitale, wake up! Do you want every enemy to know who your queen is, so they have the perfect target?"
He tried to use reason—or rather, the harsh logic of survival in their world—to convince the man before him, who seemed blinded by love.
Vitale just stared at him silently, his gaze unfathomably deep.
A broken table lay between them, like a silent declaration.
Seeing no reaction, Frand grew anxious, "Fine, let's say you're not afraid! Let's say you think you're strong enough to protect her! But what if? Vitale, things happen! What if you make this big announcement, then fly back to Thalassia, open the door, and find your Isabella in bed with another man? Some gentle, safe accountant who doesn't make her live in constant fear? Or an old college flame? You know how women can be fickle sometimes, especially when they feel lonely or ignored!"
Those words struck Vitale's most sensitive, untouchable nerve.
His pupils contracted as he stepped over the splintered wood and broken glass on the floor, walking toward Frand.
Frand, unnerved by the look in Vitale's eyes, felt his hair stand on end. He instinctively wanted to back away, but his back was already pressed against the wall with nowhere to go.
Vitale raised a hand and lightly touched the worst bruise on Frand's stomach.
He didn't press hard.
But even that slight contact made Frand gasp in pain, his face turning pale instantly.
Vitale leaned in close to Frand's ear, his voice dangerously low, "Looks like you can't feel pain anymore, huh, Frand?"
"Or do you think the strength I used to break that table was just a joke?"