Isabella’s gaze lingered on the man before her, his golden hair shimmering under the chandelier’s light, his piercing blue eyes reflecting a sense of depth and mystery. His smile, though polite and seemingly benign, couldn’t mask the aura of danger that Isabella sensed. This was no ordinary man; he was part of Emanuele’s intricate and shadowy world.
The Campbell Group, a name she had come across as a mere business entity, now unraveled its true colors – a façade for the underworld, the mafia’s stronghold. The revelation had Isabella’s heart racing, her mind reeling from the implications. Emanuele, with his gaze fixed on Clark, who had just stolen a kiss from Isabella, furrowed his brow, a subtle yet unmistakable sign of his growing displeasure. The day, meant to be filled with joy and celebration, was slowly being poisoned by his soured mood.
Under the heavy gaze of Emanuele, Isabella, despite her reluctance, found herself responding with a guarded politeness. Her smile was faint, almost ethereal, as she whispered, “I’m pleased to meet you.” Her voice was a soft melody, barely audible over the hum of the gathered crowd.
However, Emanuele’s mood had taken a darker turn, unnoticed by the reveling guests. He saw a different Isabella, one who was gentle, with soft smiles and fluid grace, so unlike the storm of anger and fear she displayed in his presence.
Emanuele’s anger boiled over, no longer containable. In a swift, almost predatory move, he seized Isabella, declaring to all, “Isabella and I have urgent matters to discuss.” He then whisked her away towards the study, his grip firm and unyielding.
The party continued in the banquet hall, but a shroud of tension enveloped Emanuele and Isabella as they reached the study. With a forceful push from Emanuele, Isabella stumbled into the room, her balance teetering on the edge of grace and chaos. The door thudded shut, enclosing them in a world apart, electric with unspoken words and suppressed emotions.
Emanuele’s grip was like iron on Isabella’s shoulder, pulling her into his storm. His voice, a blend of accusation and venom, echoed through the room, “Isabella, do you revel in such promiscuity? Flirting openly, acting the harlot? Do you not see the shame you bring upon yourself, upon us?”
Isabella, caught off guard by his harsh words, felt a surge of shame and confusion. “You wished for me to marry, didn’t you? I followed your wishes. What more do you seek from me?” she countered, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and disbelief.
To her dismay, her words seemed to fan the flames of Emanuele’s fury. His eyes burned with a cold fire, his face hardened. “What do I want? You’ve caught Clark’s eye, indeed. But remember, he is my brother, and I must ensure you are worthy of him.”
Emanuele’s mind was a tumultuous sea, waves of unexplained desires crashing against the shore of his conscience. He felt a compelling urge to dominate, to break Isabella’s will, to see her submit to his control.
In a moment of unbridled fury, Emanuele reached for her clothing. Her delicate V-neck top, with its spaghetti straps, was no match for his forceful tug. In an instant, her dignity was compromised, her vulnerability exposed.
Isabella’s scream pierced the silence, a raw, terror-filled sound. She scrambled to cover herself, her hands shaking, her face drained of color. Tears brimmed in her eyes, a testament to her shock and fear. “You’re insane! I am your stepsister; this is unfathomable!” She cried out, her voice echoing off the walls as she sought refuge in a corner, away from Emanuele’s menacing presence.
Emanuele’s smile was cruel, his tone chilling. “Stepsister, a mere label. What does it really mean?” He was a ruler in his realm, unbound by conventional morality.
Huddled in the corner, Isabella wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Her breaths were short and panicked, her lips quivering. She knew she was on the brink, her claustrophobia clawing at her senses. She needed her medication, desperately. The study, once a room of quiet contemplation, had become her prison, her personal hell, with Emanuele as its remorseless warden.
“Isabella, be good and obedient.” Emanuele suddenly crouched down and looked at Isabella in the corner. For a moment, he saw that she was really obedient.
Emanuele had rarely seen such a sweet side of Isabella, and his movements had softened a little.
Emanuele reached out and touched Isabella’s cheek. The rough rub of the man’s hand, thick with calluses from years of gun handling, touched her skin and made Isabella’s skin grow goosebumps.
Isabella wanted to scream and run away, but with no strength left, she was at the mercy of Emanuele.
He brushed his thumb against Isabella’s lip and held it there for a long time.
It was this mouth like a red rose that always said something that made him angry. But at this moment, looking at her sitting in the corner, slightly open mouth, breathing.
But it gave Emanuele an idea.
Trying to get her down on her knees, kneeling between his legs, holding his genitals, a mouth that was born to do that. Like her ass, she was born to be slapped in bed.
Evil thoughts swirled in Emanuele’s mind, and desire beat in his veins.
In fact, he disliked the feeling so much that he didn’t allow himself to lust after a woman who was hating him, which made him feel like he was being played.
So at this moment Emanuele’s desire to kill Isabella was even stronger, or else kill her.
The color of lust had not yet faded from Emanuele’s eyes, and there was more murder in it.
Just then, Isabella, nervous and feeling dry as Emanuele kept touching her lips, stuck out her tongue and licked them.
Who knows? Accidentally licked Emanuele’s finger.
The soft, moist touch on Emanuele’s fingers made Emanuele feel as if he had been struck by lightning, and his muscles straightened.
“Can’t wait for me to fuck you in a place like this? Isabella, you’re such a slut.” Emanuele decided to change his mind. He reached out and pry Isabella’s lips rudely open. His fingers went deep into Isabella’s mouth, one, two, three, and stirred rudely in her mouth, mimicking the act of intercourse.
Isabella had no idea what was going on, and was forced to hold Emanuele’s fingers, which made her feel even more suffocated, not to mention that Emanuele’s fingers continued to dig deeper into her throat.
Isabella struggled, but her strength was only scratching an itch for him.
Isabella looked up at Emanuele, asking for mercy, begging him to leave her alone, but her mouth was blocked and she could not speak.
Looking at Isabella’s wet eyes and the drool dripping from her mouth, Emanuele felt that his genitalia had become as hard as stone, and he wanted to fuck her in this place