Chapter 5
Isabella struggled with herself for a long time before finally accepting her fate and closing her eyes.
God, so be it.
At least this was much better than falling into Colt's hands.
She felt the strength in Vitale's arms, waiting for him to throw her into the abyss of desire.
However, the violation she expected never came.
Vitale carried her into the spacious walk-in closet, set her down, and commanded, "Put your clothes on."
Isabella opened her eyes and stood there stunned, looking at those long dresses. After coming to her senses, she felt relieved.
Once she put on the golden dress, Vitale scooped her up in his arms. Isabella gasped and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
God, did this man enjoy tearing dresses? Was that why he had her put it on before having sex?
Just when she thought Vitale was going to pin her on the bed, he instead pushed open a hidden door in the suite wall and stepped into a dim secret passage.
The noise and debauchery of the party outside continued beyond the wall, while no one noticed Isabella being carried away inside.
Vitale's steps were steady and quick. Nestled in his embrace, Isabella could hear his strong heartbeat.
They followed the secret passage to a private dock on the yacht's lower level, where a black jet ski sat quietly on the moonlit sea.
"Hold tight." Vitale placed her on the back seat, his deep voice brooking no refusal.
Before Isabella could respond, the jet ski shot into the night sea like an arrow.
She cried out, her arms wrapping tightly around his solid waist.
The sea wind roared past her ears, carrying the salty scent of seawater.
Isabella's golden hair whipped wildly in the wind, and her silk dress was soaked by the waves, clinging tightly to her body and outlining her graceful curves.
She couldn't help but shout out loud, as if all her suppression and fear were dissipating with that cry into the sea wind.
This thrilling sense of freedom made her feel more exhilarated than ever before.
Vitale glanced back at her through the splashing waves.
In the moonlight, she tilted her face up, eyes closed, but with a relieved smile on her lips.
At this moment, Isabella was no longer the wager to be manipulated at the party, but like a siren reborn in the dark night.
After about half an hour, the jet ski approached a hidden cove.
Above the cliff, an ancient castle loomed in the moonlight.
Vitale skillfully docked the speedboat at the private pier and carried her up the stone steps leading to the castle.
"This place is..." Isabella held her breath as she gazed at this Gothic-style building.
"Little gambler, welcome to my safe house." At Vitale's clap, the heavy oak door opened automatically.
Inside stood two rows of muscular men in black suits.
They bowed their heads respectfully, not daring to meet Vitale's eyes.
Vitale led Isabella slowly inside, while Isabella wore a surprised expression the whole time.
The castle's interior was a different world—modern decor forming a wonderful contrast with the ancient exterior.
Both their clothes were soaked with seawater, leaving Isabella's graceful curves fully exposed.
Vitale led her upstairs and pointed to the master bedroom on the second floor: "Go take a shower, then come find me."
Though Isabella didn't know why he'd brought her here, she obediently walked into the bathroom.
As the warm water washed over her body, she saw herself in the mirror.
Her well-proportioned figure, her proud, full breasts—this body could drive anyone crazy. So had Vitale brought her here to have sex with her?
This was his place, filled with his scent everywhere. Even the body wash was his preferred fragrance. After bathing, it was as if she'd been claimed by him.
Her whole body carried his favorite scent. Would he come in, suddenly pin her down, and penetrate her body from behind?
Maybe she was overthinking it, but Isabella's body began to heat up.
When she finally snapped out of it, she realized an awkward problem.
She had no clean clothes to change into.
"Vitale?" she called softly through the door. "I don't have any clothes to change into."
After a moment of silence outside, a soft white shirt and a pair of men's boxer briefs were passed through the door crack.
Isabella took the clothes, her face flushing.
The shirt still carried his distinctive scent.
The richness of cigars mixed with the sharpness of sea wind.
Vitale's underwear was too big on Isabella. With even slight movement, she could feel the wind stirring against her pubic hair—somewhat stimulating.
When she emerged from the bathroom wearing the oversized shirt, Vitale was already sitting by the bed.
He'd changed into a dark gray silk robe and was working on his laptop, brow furrowed, expression focused.
His damp red hair fell casually across his forehead, adding a touch of wildness.
Isabella stood quietly at a distance, deeply drawn to this scene.
At this moment, Vitale was no longer the dangerous stranger at the party, nor the man who'd lost control in passion, but a mature, charismatic man in power.
Suddenly, Vitale's phone rang.
He answered, his tone growing increasingly cold: "Explain clearly, where is the shipment now? How could the money just disappear? I want to see a complete investigation report by tomorrow."
Isabella instinctively held her breath.
From his brief conversation, she gathered he was facing serious trouble.
An important shipment was missing, along with a huge sum of money.
After hanging up, Vitale rubbed his temples, only then noticing Isabella standing in the shadows.
Moonlight streamed through the stained glass window, casting colorful patterns of light on her.
His white shirt looked far too large on Isabella, the hem just covering the top of her thighs, revealing a pair of straight, slender legs.
Her damp golden hair draped over her shoulders, water droplets sliding down her collarbone and disappearing into the depths of her neckline.
Vitale's gaze deepened.
He set down his computer and extended his hand toward her: "Come here."
Isabella hesitated for a moment, then slowly approached.
Just as she was about to reach the edge of the bed, Vitale gave a gentle pull, and she tumbled into his embrace.
The scent of cigars instantly surrounded her, mixed with his fresh post-shower smell.
"Tonight," his fingertips gently caressed Isabella's cheek, his voice low, "will you sleep here?"
The tone wasn't a question, but a declaration.
But strangely, Isabella didn't feel afraid.
She looked up, meeting his azure eyes. In that deep sea, she saw desire, but also some complex emotion she couldn't read.
Perhaps loneliness, perhaps pain.
Isabella was momentarily stunned, forgetting to answer, only wanting to look at this man.
Seeing Isabella didn't respond, Vitale's hand slowly moved up from the top of her thigh. Her leg was long and smooth, and his fingers easily reached inside.
His fingertip touched those labia, feeling them tremble.
"Dear Isabella, you haven't answered me yet. Will you sleep here tonight?"