Chapter 91
Isabella hated herself for not having the heart to kick Vitale out, hated the part of herself that waited for him behind the door.
In the end, Vitale let go of the doorknob, turned around, and walked back into the room, sitting down on Isabella's couch.
"You take the bed," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "I'll sleep here."
Isabella didn't argue.
She walked back to the bed, lay down with her back to Vitale, and accepted the compromise through her actions.
That night, the room was divided into two worlds by an invisible wall.
Isabella could feel his gaze.
It pierced through the wall, sweeping over her body—a look filled with desire, restraint, and a kind of tenderness she couldn't quite understand.
The next morning, Blake's party continued.
The venue had shifted from last night's indoor setting to an open-air courtyard in the vineyard.
The guests were dressed more casually than the night before, though their outfits were still expensive. They chatted in small groups, the atmosphere much more relaxed.
Isabella wore a simple cream-colored cotton dress, but compared to the delicate silk and lace of the other women around her, she looked quite plain.
Marina found her, dressed in a bright floral maxi dress, her deep brown hair perfectly styled, and her makeup flawless.
"Come with me. There are a few women who want to meet you. They're curious about you."
Before Isabella could ask why, she was led to a corner of the courtyard where a group of women stood.
These women were clearly different from the models and socialites at last night's party.
They ranged in age from thirty to fifty, dressed in seemingly simple but actually very expensive clothes. Their jewelry was understated, yet anyone could tell at a glance that these were heirloom pieces.
"Ladies, this is Isabella," Marina introduced with a smile that carried a hint of something Isabella couldn't read. "Vitale's chief accountant and, right now, his most trusted assistant."
The women's eyes scanned Isabella like a machine.
There was no hostility in their gaze, but no friendliness either—just pure evaluation.
"So, you're the woman Vitale made an exception for, keeping you by his side," one of the women said, her voice carrying an Eldoria accent. "He usually doesn't let women get involved in core business. Even his lovers are just that—lovers."
Isabella felt her cheeks heat up, but she kept her smile. "I'm just an accountant. Numbers don't change based on gender. Mr. Luca values my professional skills."
The woman with gray eyes raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the response.
Another, younger woman's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Tell us, what's Vitale like in private? I heard he's got a serious obsession with cleanliness—is that true? And what does he eat for breakfast? My cousin worked with him once and said he only drinks coffee from a specific region, and even the sugar brand has to be exact."
Isabella's heart tightened.
These questions seemed harmless, but they were probes.
Probes to figure out how close she was to Vitale, whether she had really entered his private life.
"Mr. Luca is very focused on work," she said. "As for personal habits, I wouldn't know. As an employee, I think it's important to keep a proper distance."
Isabella casually lifted her hand to adjust her hair, and the watch on her wrist came into view.
The group fell silent for a few seconds.
The gray-eyed woman spoke, her voice showing genuine surprise for the first time. "Vitale's watch. I've seen him wear it. It's custom-made. There are only two in the world—one with him, and the other..."
She didn't finish, but everyone understood.
The other was on Isabella's wrist.
The women's expressions changed.
From evaluation to shock, then to barely hidden envy, and even a touch of jealousy.
That watch didn't just represent wealth—it represented status.
Vitale's approval, his mark, his claim of ownership.
Suddenly, Isabella missed Vitale.
Not out of desire or dependency, but out of a longing to find a sense of belonging by his side.
In this environment full of strangers and potential hostility, he was her only anchor.
"Excuse me," Isabella said suddenly, her voice more urgent than she intended. "I need to use the restroom."
She didn't wait for a reply and almost fled from the circle of women, crossing the courtyard toward Vitale.
Vitale was walking toward her, clearly having finished his conversation with Blake.
Their eyes met again.
This time, Isabella didn't look away.
Then she noticed a detail.
In Vitale's shirt pocket was a handkerchief.
Silk, with a cream-colored base and small, pale blue flowers embroidered on it.
Exactly like the print on her dress.
Isabella's face flushed instantly.
This wasn't a coincidence.
There was no way Vitale just happened to have a handkerchief matching her dress perfectly.
This was his deliberate statement—she was his, he had marked her, and even across the entire courtyard, they were one.
Just then, a voice came from behind her.
"Isabella, are you looking for the restroom or for your boss?"
Isabella spun around, nearly bumping into Ali.
Ali looked much better today.
The bruises on his face were cleverly covered with makeup, and he no longer walked with a slight limp. He was back to being the charming professor and negotiator.
"I'm looking for the restroom," Isabella said calmly, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. "Is boxing fun, Professor Paul?"
Ali rolled his eyes. "Can you not mention that?"
"Vitale is a lunatic. Good thing I was just joking with you and didn't cause any real harm. Otherwise, with his style, I bet even the cockroaches in my house would get dragged into it and killed."
Isabella felt a wave of anger rise in her. "You hurt Vitale, left so many cuts on his hands. You're such a jerk."
Ali's expression froze, then turned into genuine surprise and grievance. "I'm the one who got hurt the most, okay? My ribs still ache, my face—God, my face was nearly ruined. And I'm here to apologize, Isabella. I really want to make it up to you."
Isabella didn't want to hear any more.
She turned to leave, but Ali grabbed her wrist.
"Wait, Isabella, please. At least let me show you the new contract. I worked on it all night. I fixed all the issues you pointed out."
"And I added some clauses that could triple Tyson Group's profits. Blake didn't agree at first, but I convinced him. This is my way of saying sorry."
Isabella stopped, but didn't turn around. "Let go, Ali."
Ali released her hand.
Isabella walked back to the circle of women from earlier.
Ali followed behind her, stepping into the small group of women as well.
The moment he appeared, the atmosphere shifted.
A few of the younger women's eyes lit up, their bodies instinctively leaning toward him.
"Ladies," Ali flashed his signature smile, "sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to speak with Isabella alone. It's about work."
The women around them laughed, their laughter carrying a mix of playful teasing and a hint of jealousy.
"Ali, you've got a new favorite and forgot about us. Last time in Silverlight City, you didn't say that."
"Yeah, ever since Isabella showed up, the rest of us are invisible."
Isabella felt a wave of discomfort.
She waved her hand, keeping her tone as light as possible. "This has nothing to do with me. We're just working together, and the contract isn't even signed yet. So right now, we're not even partners, let alone friends."
Ali gave a bitter smile, his amber eyes fixed on her. "Damn, you really know how to hold a grudge. But I hope you'll look at the new contract. I'm sure you'll be satisfied. It's a great deal for Tyson Group."
Marina suddenly spoke up, her smile sly. "Isabella, have you forgiven him already? For that unpleasant past?"
All the women's eyes focused on Isabella's face.
Isabella took a deep breath, met Marina's gaze, and spoke calmly. "For now, maybe. I guess I'm too kind. And haven't you already made a bet about this with someone, Marina? Betting on whether I'd forgive him?"
Marina's smile froze for a moment, then grew even brighter. "Yes, I bet on you winning. I bet you'd choose to forgive instead of letting past shadows affect your judgment now."
"Great," Isabella said, her lips curling into a not-so-friendly smirk. "Split the winnings with me. After all, I'm the main character in your best. I should get a fee for using my image, right?"
The women around burst into laughter.
Ali's smile became a bit forced. "Do you all have to do this? Marina, I thought you'd support the underdog. I'm the one who got beaten up."
Marina shrugged. "Sorry, I've never really liked you, Ali."
Ali turned to Isabella, his voice carrying a pleading tone. "Can't we just talk, just the two of us? Give me ten minutes, just ten. I promise it's only about work."
Isabella's smile held no warmth. "If I talk to you alone, Vitale will get mad. Do you want to get hit again? Or do you think your ribs can take a few more punches?"
Ali's emotions visibly wavered.
He instinctively touched his side, his expression turning cautious. "Okay, I'm scared too, but this new contract could triple your company's profits, Isabella. You have to trust me. It's a win-win."
Just then, one of the women spoke up. "Can I take a look at the contract? If the terms are really that good, maybe I can get our boss to join in on the deal."
"Sorry," Ali interrupted, his tone polite but firm. "We're only working with Tyson Group. This contract is designed specifically for the Luca family."
He turned back to Isabella. "Isabella, you should consider the company's interests. Or you can have dinner with me. I can explain all the terms and answer any questions you have."
Isabella opened her mouth to respond, but then she felt that intense gaze from a distance.