As reality crashes back, I realize that when it comes to Isabella, I am completely, utterly fucked.
7
ISABELLA
I stand in front of the mirror, analyzing every detail of my reflection. The emerald dress my mother selected hugs my curves, plunging low enough to be provocative without crossing into scandalous. Gold jewelry adorns my neck and wrists, Vitale family heirlooms meant to showcase our wealth.
"You look beautiful, Isabella." My mother hovers behind me, her voice soft as always. "Alessandro won't be able to take his eyes off you."
I meet her gaze in the mirror. "That's the point, isn't it? To parade me around like a prize mare at auction, even though the deal's already been struck."
She flinches. "This is an important night for our family."
"For Father's business interests, you mean."
I shouldn’t be so hard on her.
She’s been worn down by years of oppression.
And I can’t deny the curiosity I have about whether Alessandro will be able to take his eyes off me.
I’d tried to keep some distance between us at the wedding venue, and yet, we’d nearly kissed.
Or I think we did.
It sure felt like it when he stood so close, his gaze looking at my mouth with hunger.
Moments later, I’m downstairs in the ballroom that buzzes with New York's elite.
Politicians, businessmen, and criminals all mingle in their finest clothes, drinking champagne and networking.
Alessandro stands by the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand.
Even from across the room, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the distance he maintains as he speaks with two city councilmen.
His custom suit fits him perfectly, highlighting broad shoulders and a narrow waist.
Despite my efforts to control attraction, my pulse quickens.
Turns out I can’t keep my eyes off him.
He spots me, and something flickers across his face before his expression settles back into detachment.
"There you are." My father materializes beside me, gripping my elbow. "Remember what we discussed. Smile. Be charming."
"Of course, Father." I paste on my most convincing smile. "I'll be the perfect little puppet."
His fingers dig deeper. "Don't test me tonight, Isabella."
I try to hide the grimace from the pain my father is inflicting.
Alessandro approaches, and my father's demeanor transforms instantly to warmth and conviviality. "Alessandro! Here she is, your bride-to-be."
Alessandro's eyes never leave mine as he takes my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles.
The contact sends electricity racing up my arm.
"You look stunning," he says quietly.
