Chapter 59
Simon lay in a pool of blood by the cage, laughing hysterically. His voice was broken but carried a creepy kind of joy, "No, no, no, I don't want to get hit again."
"Admit it, Vitale. You used to be untouchable because you didn't care about anything. But now? Victor knows, and soon everyone will know. Isabella is your weakness."
"It's not a weakness," Vitale's voice turned icy, "It's my fuel."
He crouched down, whispering close to Simon's ear, "If any of you dare touch her, I'll rip out every single throat like a lion."
At 3 a.m.
when Vitale returned to the seaside villa, the whole place was so quiet you could only hear the sound of the waves.
He pushed open the bedroom door and saw Isabella curled up on the huge four-poster bed, her golden hair spread across the pillow, fast asleep.
Henley followed with a medical kit and noticed Vitale gesture for him to stay quiet.
They moved to the living room, where Henley started treating the wounds.
Bruises on the ribs, a cut on the cheekbone, torn skin on the knuckles.
"Mr. Luca, Simon really went hard this time," Henley said quietly. When the disinfectant touched the wound, Vitale's muscles tensed sharply.
"Shut up," Vitale gritted his teeth, cold sweat rolling down his forehead.
Every grunt of pain was swallowed back down his throat.
He couldn't wake Isabella. He couldn't let her see him like this.
After the wounds were treated, he took a shower and changed into clean silk pajamas.
In the mirror, Vitale's face was pale, but his eyes were still sharp.
The injuries were hidden under his clothes. Only he knew how much his body was protesting.
He quietly returned to the bed and carefully lay down beside Isabella.
When the wound on his back pressed against the mattress, Vitale couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath.
He couldn't sleep.
Simon's words echoed in his mind.
His Weakness.
Victor knew, and soon those restless people in the family would know too.
Isabella would become a target, just like his mother Thea had been a target for his father Rhett Luca's enemies back then.
Vitale turned on his side, staring at Isabella's sleeping face under the moonlight.
Long eyelashes, slightly parted lips, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
Falling for her at first sight wasn't a sin; it was God's redemption for him.
After losing Liliana, she was the first person to make Vitale feel his heart beat again.
But now, this redemption had become a double-edged sword.
The pain in his back grew sharper, like flames burning at the wound.
Vitale needed a distraction, any kind of distraction.
He lifted the blanket and slowly slid to the foot of the bed.
Her silk nightgown was gently lifted, his hands gripping Isabella's slender ankles before parting her legs.
Isabella let out a soft hum in her sleep but didn't wake up.
Vitale leaned down, his tongue lightly brushing against her softest spot.
Her reaction was immediate.
Her thighs trembled slightly, and a muffled moan escaped her lips.
That sound was like a painkiller, instantly easing the sharp pain in his back.
Vitale kept going, his movements growing more intense.
Isabella's moans became quicker, her body responding to the unfamiliar pleasure even in her sleep.
The pain eased, but another urge surged up.
Vitale felt himself growing painfully hard, but he didn't want to wake Isabella.
He didn't want her to see his wounds, didn't want to explain the madness of tonight.
Of course, deep down, a small voice in him hoped.
Hoped that Isabella would wake up, see him in this pathetic state, and tenderly touch his wounds.
No. He couldn't be that selfish.
Vitale rolled off the bed, the movement too rough, pulling at his wounds. He let out a stifled groan, grabbed the blanket, and stumbled into the living room.
In the dark, he threw himself onto the couch and turned on the TV.
The flickering lights of an action movie filled the room.
The main characters were having sex in a swimming pool, the sounds overlapping with Vitale's memories.
He undid his pajama pants, his hand gripping his burning erection.
As the intense moans and thrusts played on the screen, his movements sped up.
Vitale closed his eyes, and it wasn't the movie he pictured—it was Isabella.
Isabella beneath him, Isabella pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window, Isabella moaning for him over the phone.
He finally came, his release splattering on the expensive Persian rug.
Exhaustion hit him like a wave.
Vitale curled up on the couch, his eyelids heavy.
The last thought before falling asleep was Simon's laughter， "You've got a weakness now, Vitale! And it's a beautiful one!"
The next morning, when Isabella woke up, the spot beside her was empty.
The sheets were cold, and only the lingering smell of cigar and blood on the pillow proved Vitale had been there last night.
Isabella lifted the blanket, her body sensing something odd before her mind caught up.
The silk sheets felt cool against her thighs, but the heat between her legs was unusually intense.
Still half-asleep, she reached down.
Her underwear was gone.
Her fingertips brushed against sensitive skin, making her shiver. Her folds were slightly swollen, a sticky wetness clinging to her fingers.
Memories flooded back like a tide.
Vitale had been here last night.
It wasn't a dream; he was really here.
Isabella remembered the soft sound of the door opening, the moonlight outlining his muscles as he took off his shirt by the bed, the mix of cigar and aftershave when he leaned close.
But everything after that was blurry, like looking through a mist.
Only her body's memory was crystal clear.
Isabella remembered the moans she let out in her half-sleep.
She remembered Vitale covering her mouth, saying, "Keep sleeping."
She remembered the heat of his suppressed breath against the back of her ear.
Isabella sat up, the ache between her legs instantly reminding her of what happened last night.
There was a small dark stain on the sheets, and beside it, a neatly folded pair of clean underwear.
Vitale's obsessive kind of thoughtfulness.
Isabella picked up the underwear and found a note underneath.
Vitale's handwriting was sharp, like a blade:["You looked too tempting while sleeping. I couldn't hold back. Tonight, I'll apologize properly, in the way you like."]
In the corner of the note was a scribbled drawing. Isabella squinted at it for a while before figuring it out.
A curled-up sleeping cat, with a man's silhouette crouching beside it, watching.
Isabella's face flushed red.
She crumpled the note to throw it away but then smoothed it out and, almost without thinking, tucked it into a book.
When she walked into the bathroom, she saw a new hickey on her neck in the mirror, like a deep purple stamp.
There were faint finger marks on the inside of her thighs too, left from when Vitale gripped her legs last night.
As hot water washed over her body, a slight sting came from the sensitive spot between her legs.
Isabella leaned against the tiled wall, her fingers unconsciously tracing those marks. Suddenly, she remembered what Vitale whispered in her ear last night."Even your sleeping body remembers me. Are you still going to deny that you belong to me?"
In the steamy haze, Isabella closed her eyes.
She knew she'd lost this battle long ago. From her body to her soul, every cell was calling for that dangerous red-haired man.
And the scariest part?
Isabella realized she was willing.
She got dressed, and Henley appeared at the door right on time, "The car's ready, Ms. Lorraine."
"Where's Vitale?"
"Mr. Luca left early to deal with Simon's matter," Henley replied smoothly.
---
Everything at the company was normal.
Isabella buried herself in the accounts, trying to figure out the complicated profit distribution system of the gambling business.
How to launder money, how to dodge taxes, how to walk the line between legal and illegal.
At 10 a.m.
Laura knocked on the door, looking nervous, "Mrs. McKenna is here again. This time, she's scarily nice."
And she was.
When Isabella entered the meeting room, the woman who once threw coffee at her actually stood up to greet her.
"Dear Isabella!" Carter, dressed in a Chanel suit, smiled warmly, "I'm so glad to see you again. Last time was just a misunderstanding. You know, women my age can get emotional easily."
She handed over a contract, "This is the revised partnership agreement. Take a look. It's completely fair."
Isabella skimmed through it. The terms were so generous it made her suspicious.
Too generous.
"I need time to review these terms." Isabella said carefully.
"Of course, of course," Carter smiled, but her eyes were like a snake's, "But time waits for no one, Isabella. My lawyer says if we don't sign today, the previous losses will have to go through legal channels…"
The negotiation reached its most tense moment when the meeting room door suddenly opened.
Laura stood there, cheeks flushed, her voice deliberately sweet:
"Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. McKenna. Mr. Luca needs to see Ms. Martinez immediately."
Carter's smile froze on her face.