Chapter 89
Under the dim yellowish light at the entrance of the boxing club, Ali felt a sharp twist in his stomach.
"Come on, let's have some fun," Vitale said calmly, as if he were just suggesting a cup of coffee. "I promise Blake won't notice you're hurt. Of course, you've got to dodge my punches."
Ali's eyes scanned Vitale's designer outfit from head to toe.
A custom-tailored suit, a shirt worth months of an average person's salary.
A low-key platinum watch on his wrist that could easily buy a sports car.
Ali swallowed nervously.
"I can't even touch anything you're wearing," he tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "And can you tell me why you've suddenly got itchy fists? I mean, it's just me you're itching to hit, right? Why not anyone else?"
"No," Vitale drawled. "I'm just a bit curious about you. You know, I care about my employees' lives. Isabella is my best accountant. If someone's giving her nightmares, as her boss, I feel I need to check out that person's character."
Ali rolled his eyes. "Come on, why aren't you worried about the other two pretty ladies? They're your employees too. Is Isabella that important to you? Important enough to test a professor from years ago over her?"
Vitale just smirked, not answering.
But the dangerous edge in that smile was clear enough.
Ali knew he couldn't escape this.
He took a deep breath, then suddenly flashed a bright smile.
"Screw it, just don't hit my face, okay? I don't want to mess up this face tonight."
"I still want to pick up some girls, you know. Those models and socialites Blake invited—I've got to keep some charm."
Vitale placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that looked friendly, but Ali could feel the strength in that grip—a strength that could crush glass or snap a neck.
"Relax," Vitale said, his voice low like a whisper. "I won't hurt you too much. At least not enough for Isabella to come running to patch you up. I don't want to see that scene."
Ali gave a bitter smile. "She won't. She's scared of me. Of course, it was a misunderstanding, but she doesn't know that yet. So, you know, I really didn't mean it..."
"Of course," Vitale cut him off, his smile turning cold. "Otherwise, I'd kill you right now instead of just playing around."
Ali felt a layer of cold sweat break out on his back.
An hour later, when Vitale arrived with Ali at Blake's vineyard estate, the party was already in full swing.
Isabella stood on the steps at the entrance of the villa, wearing a deep blue silk gown, watching the red Ferrari pull into the parking lot.
She almost ran down the steps.
Vitale got out first. Isabella could see the tense muscles under his clothes and the slight awkwardness in his walk.
Her eyes quickly scanned him for any obvious cuts or bruises.
Then Ali stepped out of the passenger seat.
Isabella froze.
Ali had a clear bruise on the corner of his mouth, and the area under his left eye was reddish, even though it had been covered with makeup. It was still noticeable under the lights.
He walked with a slight limp, his right hand hanging unnaturally by his side.
"Isabella," Ali managed a weak smile, pointing at his mouth. "You should be looking at me. I'm the one who's hurt."
"Alright," Isabella replied, her voice flat. "Looks like you took a hard fall."
Ali's expression stiffened, clearly not expecting such a cold response.
Vitale couldn't help but laugh, a smug glint in his blue eyes.
Just then, Blake came out of the villa.
"Friends!" he called out, arms wide open, his voice booming. "You almost arrived late and missed my dinner. The best roast wild boar and truffle pasta in Vesperia. You'd have gone hungry!"
Vitale stepped forward, shaking Blake's hand with a perfect smile. "Don't worry, we wouldn't miss it. We just took a little detour. Enjoyed Vesperia's night view."
Blake's gaze shifted to Ali, his brow furrowing. "Did you fall or something, Professor Paul?"
Ali touched the corner of his mouth, forcing a smile. "Yeah, a fall. On the hotel stairs. Clumsy me. Even got my clothes soaked with sweat just changing. Pretty embarrassing."
Blake looked at Ali, then at Vitale.
His experienced eyes moved between the two, clearly sensing something off.
But Blake didn't press further.
He just patted Vitale on the back and led him toward the villa. "Come on, I'll introduce you to a few people. Bankers from Silverlight City and some partners you might be interested in."
Vitale glanced back at Isabella, signaling with his eyes for her to follow.
Isabella nodded, lifting her skirt as she climbed the steps.
She soon realized she couldn't join in on their conversations.
A few minutes later, she felt suffocated.
She quietly slipped out of the circle, weaving through the crowd toward the glass doors leading to the garden.
The outdoor air was fresh, carrying the coolness of the night and the scent of plants.
Isabella took a deep breath, leaning against a stone pillar and closing her eyes.
Then she heard something else.
At first, it was faint, like a suppressed moan, blending with the sound of the fountain and the distant music.
She thought it was her imagination.
But the sound came again, clearer this time.
It was coming from deep in the garden, behind a thick cluster of rose bushes.
Isabella's curiosity got the better of her.
Lifting her skirt, she approached the roses, and the sound grew more distinct.
It was a woman's moan, quick and full of pleasure, laced with obvious desire.
And a man's low growl, rough and satisfied.
Isabella's face flushed instantly.
She knew she should leave—this was private—but some instinct made her gently push aside the rose branches and peek toward the source of the sound.
Under the moonlight, she could clearly see two figures.
Judy.
The female assistant who always wore neat suits and sharp glasses was now disheveled.
Her skirt was hiked up to her waist, her shirt unbuttoned, revealing black lace underwear.
Her eyes were covered with a tie, her hands bound behind her back, leaning against the trunk of an old olive tree.
And the man behind her.
Isabella recognized him as one of Blake's men, thrusting his cock into Judy's pussy with intense force.
His actions were rough, without any foreplay or tenderness, just raw, animalistic fucking.
Judy's moans were loud and unrestrained, almost drowning out the music in the garden.
Her head tilted back, lips parted, completely lost in desire, seemingly enjoying this near-violent possession.
Isabella jerked back, her heart pounding like a drum.
She turned and almost ran out of the garden, her high heels slipping on the gravel path, nearly causing her to fall.
She rushed back to the villa, pushing through the crowd until she found a relatively quiet corner to catch her breath.
Isabella's cheeks were burning, her palms sweaty, her mind replaying the scene she had just witnessed.
Judy's blindfolded eyes, her open shirt, and the man's unrelenting thrusts.
Strangely, the image started to shift.
Judy's face became her own, and the man's back turned into Vitale's.
Isabella imagined herself being treated that way by Vitale—blindfolded, hands tied, in the moonlit garden, fucked by him in that almost savage way.
A wave of heat surged through her lower abdomen.
Isabella felt her mouth go dry, her pussy clenching with a hollow longing.
She grabbed a glass of white wine from a passing waiter's tray and downed half of it in one gulp.
The cool liquid slid down her throat, but it couldn't extinguish the sudden fire that had ignited within her.
Then Isabella looked up and met Vitale's eyes.
He was standing at the other end of the ballroom, talking with Blake and another man, but his gaze cut through the crowd, locking onto her.
His blue eyes held a question, and a depth she couldn't quite read.
A few seconds later, Vitale ended his conversation and walked toward her.
"What's wrong?" he asked, coming close and lowering his voice. "You don't look good. Feeling unwell?"
Isabella forced herself to stay calm, managing a smile. "I'm fine, really. Just felt a bit stuffy in the garden, so I came out for some air."
Vitale stared at her for a few seconds, clearly not buying it, but he didn't push.
The deal wasn't signed on the spot.
Isabella had spotted a few traps deliberately set by Blake's team.
Vitale told Ali to go back and work on it properly before continuing the negotiations. After all, he'd still be around tomorrow.
Blake didn't look happy, but he didn't say anything. Ali whispered something in his ear, and Blake's gaze toward Vitale shifted to one of fear.
After the party, Henley drove them back to the hotel.
Judy didn't show up—maybe she was still at the estate with that bodyguard.
Marina sat in the front passenger seat, silently staring out at the night scenery the whole way.
Back in her hotel room, Isabella took a shower and changed into pajamas, but she couldn't sleep.
She sat on the sofa by the window, waiting.
Waiting for Vitale to come to her, waiting for him to explain why he took Ali for a "drive."
Her heartbeat wouldn't settle, and that uneasy feeling didn't fade.
Two hours later, Vitale stood outside Isabella's room, holding a spare key card.
He had planned to slip in quietly, sit by her bed for a while, watch her peaceful sleeping face, and leave before dawn.