Isabella was stiff even when Adrian came back into the hallway. Her heart was tightened, and she was still dwelling on the words Dante used. She's mine. She had no idea what that meant. He was not hers, and she was not his. But he had said it as though it was true.

When she turned around, Dante was nowhere to be found. No goodbye, no nothing. Simply vanished into the darkness as if he had never breathed.

She shivered and stepped back into the party. The din, the music, the phony laughter-everything weighed more. She didn't even notice when Sofia rushed over to her until she grasped her wrist.

"Bella, where were you? I was looking everywhere," Sofia whispered.

"I just needed air," Isabella said, releasing a small smile. "You look like you're crying. What's wrong?"

Sofia bit her lip and looked around and then took Isabella's arm and pulled her to a less populated area near the bar. "I can't marry him. I can't, Bella."

"I know." Isabella sighed. "I told Papa, but he doesn't care."

"No, you don't understand." Sofia's voice was shaking. "I'm in love with someone else."

Isabella's eyes grew wide. "What? Who?"

Sofia hesitated, then breathed softly, "His name is Matteo. He's not rich, not powerful. He's a manager at one of Papa's hotels. We've been seeing each other a year."

Isabella stared at her sister. "Sofia! A year? And you didn't tell me?"

"I was scared," Sofia admitted, tears welling up in her eyes. "If Papa finds out, he'll ruin him. Please, Bella, don't tell anyone."

Isabella stroked her forehead. "So Papa is forcing you to marry Adrian because you're in love with someone else. This is a disaster."

"I'll run away if I have to," Sofia spoke under her breath. "I don't care."

"You can't leave," Isabella spoke in a rush. "Papa will fetch you. And Adrian-he doesn't forgive insults."

Sofia gripped Isabella's hands. "Then help me. Please. You always guard me. You always get things done."

Isabella sighed. She wanted to say no, but one look at her sister's tearful eyes made it impossible. "Fine. I'll fix this. Somehow."

The rest of the night dragged on. Guests left slowly, music faded, and by midnight, the ballroom was nearly empty. Isabella stayed awake in her room long after everyone went to bed. She kept pacing, thinking about Sofia, about Adrian, about Dante's strange claim.

By the morning, she was tired but determined. She found her father in his office, sitting behind his desk with a cigar held between his fingers and papers scattered everywhere.

"Papa, we have to talk," Isabella declared.

Marco looked up, frowning. "It's too early for your drama, Isabella."

"This is no drama. This is Sofia."

He let out a sigh. "I told you last night. The decision has been made. She will marry Adrian."

No, Isabella said. "She won't. I'll marry him in her stead."

Marco's eyebrows knitted. "What did you just say?"

"I'll marry him," Isabella said once more, crossing her arms. "Let Sofia live her life. She's not ready for this. She doesn't love him."

"Love?" Marco laughed. "Love does not exist in this world.".

Perhaps not to you, but it matters to her." Isabella leaned forward. "You are always reminding me that I'm strong, that I'm stubborn. Fine. Then utilize me. Replace me with Sofia."

Marco stared at her for a long time. Then he relaxed in his chair. "You can deal with Adrian? He cannot be trusted."

"I'll manage him," Isabella said, though her gut churned at the prospect.

Marco was silent for an instant. Then shook his head. "No. You will not do this for me. I told you Sofia, so it will be Sofia."

"Amá-"

"Enough!" he barked, slapping his hand on the desk. "Get out."

Isabella clenched her jaw and stormed out. She hated feeling so powerless.

That evening, sitting with Sofia and her mother in the living room, a servant appeared and leaned over to whisper something in Marco's ear. Marco stood up, readjusting his jacket. "Wait here," he told his wife and daughters and walked towards the study.

Isabella trailed behind. She hung near the door, far enough back so that she could hear some voices inside.

".I need protection for my family," Marco was saying.

"And in return, you'll provide me with what I want," another voice was heard. Isabella knew immediately. Dante.

She gasped. She brought her ear closer.

"You know Adrian won't give up," Marco said. "He wants my daughter, and he won't care which one."

"That's why you need me," Dante said calmly. "I'll protect you. But there is a cost to protection."

"What cost?"

"Isabella," Dante answered.

Isabella's heart skipped a beat.

There was a pause, then Marco's deep sigh. "You leave me no choice, do you?"

"You never had a choice," Dante replied.

Isabella stepped back nervously, not noticing footsteps until she collided with her mother.

"Isabella," Lucia said softly, worried. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," Isabella lied quickly, attempting to hide her fear. "I was just-just looking for water."

Her mother did not believe her, but she let it drop. They went back to the living room, where Sofia sat fidgeting with her thumbs.

Hours passed. Finally, Marco arrived, his expression impassive. He stood in front of them, his arms cradled behind his back.

"I have an announcement," he declared baldly.

Sofia straightened rigidly. Isabella's heart pounded, already knowing what was going to be said.

"Plans have been altered," Marco told them. "Sofia is not to wed Adrian."

Sofia gasped, relief spreading across her face. "Papa-"

Marco raised a hand. "Don't thank me. The engagement will be offered to Isabella instead."

Isabella stood frozen.

"You will marry Dante Moretti," Marco said to her coldly. "It is done."

The room went silent. Sofia covered her mouth in shock, their mother breathed softly, "Oh my God."

Isabella's legs grew weak, but she remained standing. She had wanted to protect Sofia. Now she was caught as well.

Isabella couldn't sleep that night. Her father's words kept ringing in her head: "Isabella will marry Dante Moretti."

Staring at a cold cup of tea that she had not yet touched, she sat at her desk. Her chest felt heavy, but the house was quiet. She want to be able to accept that everything had been a mistake and that her father would retract his statements the next day.

Sofia knocked once and then walked in without waiting. Her hair was messed up from crying, and she looked tired.

"You should have let me handle it." Sofia whispered, sitting beside her,

She gave a headshake. "He would never have listened to you. He would have pushed you into Adrian's arms."

"You're going to be pushed into Dante's now." Sofia tried to remain firm by crossing her arms, but her voice broke. "How is that an improvement?"

"It isn't," Isabella whispered. She looked away, blinking furiously. "But I couldn't stand Adrian touching you."

Sofia sat on the bed. "I wish you had thought about yourself for once."

They were quiet. The clock ticked on the wall. Isabella shoved the chilled tea out of her way and massaged her forehead. "I just need some air," she said.

She got a sweater, and left the room. The halls were dark, servants already in bed for the night. She went out the side door for a breath of night air to cool her.

The street was too quiet. She knew she shouldn't, but Isabella smoked a cigarette. Resting against the wall, she expelled a puff of smoke. Her pocket started to vibrate and she reached for her phone, but footsteps on the path behind her stopped her.

She turned around. Two men wearing dark clothes were next to a black car parked down the street.

"Miss Romano," one of them said. His voice was rough. "Your old man's waiting for you."

Her chest tightened. "My father is in there," she argued.

They began walking toward her. She stepped back. "Stay away from me."

The taller man took hold of her arm. "Don't fight. Adrian wants to talk to you."

Her stomach dropped. "Let me go!" she screamed, struggling. She picked at his hand, but he did not recoil. The second man pulled open the car door. "Get her in."

Isabella fought and kicked, but the man had a firm hold on her. But from her cigarettes there still bobbed a couple of burning stubs. "Help!" she screamed, but the street was empty.

The man pushed her in the car. She hit her head on the door frame and felt woozy. "Stop! Please!" she cried, her voice shaking.

Then, a new voice broke the darkness.

"Let her go.

Both men quieted. Isabella looked up and there he was– Dante Moretti, just two feet away. His jaw was firm, his eyes hard. He no longer looked like a gala-goer. He looked dangerous.

This ain't none of your business, said the taller man. "Adrian wants her."

Dante's jaw tightened. "I said let her go."

The man holding Isabella laughed. "What if we don't?"

It was swift. Dante moved in, pinched the man's wrist, and gave a dreadful twist. There was a snap and the man was on the floor, screaming. Isabella stumbled back and fell out of his grasp.

blow The second man pulled a knife as he approached Dante. Isabella drew back against the wall and trembled. Dante was quick, deflecting the punch while ramming his elbow into the man's throat. The man gasped for breath, the knife falling from nerveless fingers.

Dante accepted it without question and plunged into his chest. The man fell, choking. Isabella brought a hand up to her lip, a sickening feeling swirling in her stomach. She had watched fights, but not like this. This wasn't defense-this was brutality.

The first man grappled to his feet, holding his broken wrist. Dante kicked him fiercely in the ribs, and he fell over once more. He dropped his boot to the man's throat.

"Let Adrian know that Isabella belongs to me, ' Dante said, in a cold, dank tone.

The man sputtered, but Dante squeezed him tighter, until his slumped.

The street was still. Isabella was panting, her hands shaking. She looked at the bodies and then at Dante, whose shirt was stained with blood now.

He faced her slowly. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head wildly. "No. I." She couldn't speak.

Dante moved closer. She tried to recoil, but no longer felt her legs. He was suffocating, more than the violence she had just witnessed.

He reached out, lifting her chin, making he look him in the eye. Despite being hot with blood, his hand was warm. "You should not have been by yourself," he told her.

I... I didn't realize they'd–" Her voice wavered, and she looked the other way.

With a sudden gesture he drew her to him, his arm tight about her. She stiffened, his heart steady against her flesh.

"You owe me now," Dante said. His breath touched her ear. "Everything."

She swallowed. "I didn't ask you to-"

"You don't have to ask," he cut her off. "You're mine now.".

Her chest tightened. She wished she could argue with him, to scream at him, but the words eluded her. His grip on her, his tone, the blood on his hands - all served to make it so obviously she didn't have a choice.

He let her go, but his eyes remained on her. "Go inside. Do not leave the house without me again."

Isabella slowly nodded, her tense body. She walked towards the door, her steps unsteady. When she reached the door, she turned around once.

Dante was still there, calm as if nothing had happened, the two bodies lying behind him.

Her hands shook as she opened the door. She knew the truth as her heart pounded-she wasn't trapped by her father's decision anymore. She was trapped by Dante.

On the night after the attack, Isabella slept in her room. Her eye sockets were so filled with blood she could not even shut her eyes. Every time she blinked Dante's face somehow surfaced in front of her-his fierce eyes staring into hers, his hand on her, his voice in her face insisting that she was his.

She tried to tell herself it was shock. That by morning it would all be far behind us. Except when she woke, Dante was there.

He was in the living room, wearing black. His men spread throughout the hall, silent and observing. Isabella paused on the second step of the stairs, her heart skipping.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Dante looked up. "Making sure you are safe."

"Two men died at your hand last night. More shrilling than she had intended it to be.

"They came to get you for Adrian. He took a step forward. "Do you want to be forced to get into Adrian's car instead?"

Isabella looked down, unable to respond.

Marco came in then, took a glass of whiskey despite the hour. "Dante is right," he said. ″Dante is here to stay. This family can not afford to make mistakes."

"Can't afford? "Isabella muttered her voice bitter. "I'm not some business asset."

Marco ignored her and addressed Dante. "The engagement is all set. We make the announcement tonight."

Isabella's body tensed. "Tonight?"

"Yes." Marco's tone allowed no argument.

Dante's eyes stayed on hers. "It's best this way. Quick. Clean."

She balled her fists, but didn't say a word.

The day moved slowly. Isabella aimlessly roamed the house to settle down. Sofia unbolted the door and followed her to the kitchen.

"Don't go, don't do it," said Sofia, in a whisper. "Please, Isabella. There must be another way."

"There isn't." Isabella went to the refrigerator, even though she didn't want anything to eat. "You want to marry Adrian? Because that's the only other choice."

Sofia's lips trembled. "I'd rather run away."

"And then what?" Isabella screwed on a cap of a water bottle too hard. "Father would find you. He always finds us."

Sofia sat at the table hiding her face in her hands. "I wish you didn't have to do this for me.

Isabella sighed and seated herself on the other side of her. "Stop crying. It's done."

They were so for a while. The cook entered, with a saucepan full of soup, appearing not to hear them, as they exchanged whispers.

Then Elena arrived. She wrapped her arms around Isabella's shoulders, then drew back to see her face. "You're pale," she said. "You don't want this, do you? "

"No," Isabella conceded in a low tone.

"Then fight it," Elena cried. "Don't marry him. You can't handle Dante He's a man. Now that you're his, you'll never be free.

Isabella's throat tightened. She wished she could trust Elena, that there was a choice. But at the core, she knew it was futile.

"Father won't let me decline," Isabella said.

Elena's eyes filled with pity. "He's making a mistake. And you are the one paying for it."

Isabella turned her face, as though to adjust her hair so that Elena would not see her tears.

-

The preparations were up and running fully by afternoon. There were people doing work and hanging lights and flowers all through the house. Fiddlers entered, tuning their instruments. Footmen ran in and out bearing trays of food and wine.

Isabella perched on her bed and looked at the dress that had been set out for her. It was white and clean and beautiful. Too pure for what she felt deep inside.

Sofia knocked once more, and she had a small box in hand. "Here. Wear these earrings. They were Mama's."

Isabella lifted the lid of the box, and glanced at the pearls. She recalled their mother donning them for every family event. Her heart was sore.

"Thank you," Isabella whispered. She hugged her sister tightly. "Stay close to me tonight."

Sofia nodded, wiping her eyes.

-

Night descended. The guests thronged the salon, and their laughter or talk was blended with the notes of the music. Isabella was at the top of the stairs with her stomach churning. She could feel eyes on her - suspicious, judgmental, salivating for scandal.

She saw Elena in the audience, shaking her head a little. She saw her father, smiling as if everything was fine. And then she spotted Dante.

He was tall and 6u.F one stood in the front, calm. His eyes found hers as soon as she was visible. She felt herself freeze under his gaze as she held her breath.

Sofia's hand squeezed hers. "You can always change your mind," she whispered.

"No," Isabella whispered in return. "It's too late."

They descended the stairs slowly. Guests clapped politely, cameras flashed. Isabella attempted to maintain a neutral expression, her spine held rigid.

When she came to a stop at the bottom, Dante had stepped out in front. He took her hand uninvited. He held on tight and didn't let go, no option other than to tow his lead.

They stood before everyone. Marco raised his glass. "Tonight, we are here to celebrate the joining of two great houses. Isabella, my daughter, will marry Dante Moretti.

The crowd applauded again. Isabella's throat constricted. She glanced at Sofia, who was crying quietly.

In a corner, Elena uttered something-Don't do it.

But Isabella didn't move. She couldn't.

Dante fished in his pocket and brought out a small box. He took the box and opened it, inside was a silver ring. Isabella's quivered as he slipped the ring onto her finger. Her flesh felt the chill of the metal.

He leaned in, his voice soft, and just for her. "You belong to me now.

Isabella lifted her eyes to his dark gaze. All that was around her dissolved. She knew in that instant there was no escape.

She was no longer her father's pawn. She was Dante's wife.