Chapter 17
Deep down, Isabella was reluctant to leave. She realized Vitale had carved out a place in her heart.
The heart that Chris had wounded, Vitale had healed completely. But once she kept her promise, would Vitale still want her?
The mafia world was different from hers. She couldn't just wait for him to come back covered in the smell of blood—it was like raw beef with blood and fat, and it made her feel sick.
Standing in the center of the walk-in closet, Isabella felt an inexplicable pain surge through her. She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the sadness inside.
She realized she'd invested too much emotion in Vitale, and the danger of it all scared her.
She needed to calm down. She needed distance.
Isabella decided to take a shower first. Standing in the spacious bathroom, she saw herself in the mirror—her perfect body covered with Vitale's kiss marks.
God, if her father and Sonia found out, they'd definitely blame her. But she didn't regret it.
She was glad she'd given her virginity to Vitale, otherwise Colt would have taken advantage of her.
Hot water washed over her body, but couldn't wash away the memory of Vitale's touch. When she washed between her legs, she actually tried putting a finger inside. One finger felt so empty.
Without Vitale's thick fingers and their touch, she added two more fingers, slowly moving them in and out. Eyes closed, she touched and squeezed her breasts, almost feeling like Vitale was touching her again.
Isabella never used to take such long showers, but this time she stayed in there forever. When she finally walked into the closet wrapped in a towel, she saw the torn lace panties on the floor.
Evidence of last night.
Vitale had promised to let her sleep properly, but when she put on that underwear, he lost control anyway.
In the closet, he'd pressed her against the mirror, entering her from behind, whispering dirty things in her ear.
He said being inside her felt so good, he never wanted to pull out.
He said fucking her made him so excited his adrenaline went through the roof, and he loved that feeling.
If he could, he wanted to fuck her pussy until it broke.
Isabella shook her head, trying to clear these vivid memories. She stepped over the panties with her bare feet.
Opening the wardrobe to find her clothes, she discovered her only dress had been torn too.
Vitale had this bad habit of ripping off whatever she was wearing in the most direct way when he got turned on.
With no clothes to wear, she couldn't just leave in a bathrobe, could she?
Isabella had to search his closet for something to cover herself.
Vitale's wardrobe was like him—full of cold tones of black, white, and gray.
But among these dull colors, Isabella unexpectedly found a sapphire blue suit.
"Such a flashy color..." she murmured, feeling something stir inside. "Did some lover give him this?"
The thought made Isabella uncomfortable.
In the end, she chose a white shirt and black pants.
Vitale's pants were way too big. Even with the belt pulled to the tightest hole, the legs dragged on the floor.
Isabella had to take off the pants and just wear his white shirt and boxer briefs as she left the closet.
Vitale was still on the balcony on the phone. His deep voice drifted in faintly with the sea breeze.
Isabella didn't disturb him. She just quietly dried her hair, picked up her phone and purse, ready to leave.
She was surprised to find no unread messages on her phone.
Sonia hadn't frantically tried to find her.
Apparently everyone assumed she'd be tortured to death by Vitale, so they didn't even bother asking.
Isabella stood at the castle's main entrance, struggling internally for a long time.
Every second, she hoped Vitale would call out from behind her, throw her over his shoulder in that commanding way of his, and carry her back to the bedroom.
But nothing happened.
Vitale didn't turn around, so he wouldn't notice she'd quietly left. She wouldn't get to wait for him to drag her back.
Finally, Isabella pushed open the heavy oak door herself.
Morning light scattered across the sea, stinging her eyes.
She wanted to cry, but she didn't want to cry here.
"Torian," she tried to keep her voice calm, "take me to work. Vitale knows about it."
Torian looked at her uneasily. "Miss, Mr. Luca probably doesn't want you to leave."
Isabella tugged at the oversized shirt. "He has things to handle. He let me leave wearing his clothes, didn't he?"
Torian hesitated, then started the yacht.
Isabella stood on the deck, watching the castle gradually fade into the morning mist, finally covering her face and crying out loud.
Why didn't Vitale come after her?
He should have roughly grabbed her back, pinned her on the bed, and punished her hard for leaving without saying goodbye.
But he didn't, and that made her feel like last night was just a ridiculous dream.
One week later.
Vitale blew out a smoke ring, finishing off the last traitor.
He wiped the blood from the back of his hand with a handkerchief, suddenly remembering how Isabella's full breasts bounced beneath him.
"Damn it." He cursed under his breath, throwing the bloody handkerchief on the ground.
Sitting in the car, Vitale still couldn't stop thinking about Isabella.
Torian had been punished so badly for helping her escape that he could barely open his eyes.
He never imagined his most trusted man would help her get away.
That Isabella—she used him up and then ran away.
She actually dared to run. Who gave her the nerve?
God knows how much Vitale missed being inside her body in the morning.
When he finished his call and returned to the bedroom to find the bed empty, he went crazy.
Vitale had planned to use his tongue to make Isabella come in the morning light.
"If I catch you again," he muttered to the scenery flying past the window, "I'll fuck you until you can't even speak, until you're crying and begging me to come inside you."
He played with the family ring on his finger, a dark thought forming in his mind.
When he found Isabella, he'd shove this ring inside her pussy so she could never escape again.
He knew Isabella must have been scared by his mafia background.
But she'd rather run away than tell him about her fear, and that realization made him even more furious.
Vitale had barely slept all week.
Every time he dealt with a traitor, his mind was full of Isabella moaning beneath him.
Her blonde hair spread across his pillow, her legs wrapped around his waist, her nails leaving scratches on his back...
This week had exhausted all of Vitale's patience.
If Isabella thought she could just escape from him like that, she was dead wrong.
He'd show her through his actions that from the moment she lost that dart game, her life had been bound to his.
No matter where she ran, he'd drag her back and lock her in his castle until she learned to accept one fact.
She would always be his woman. Vitale's woman.