The days following Dante’s accident were a whirlwind. While his injuries weren’t severe, the scare had shaken both him and Isla. They’d spent quiet days at the estate, enjoying time as a family, but there was an unspoken tension in the air. Isla could feel Dante’s focus sharpening, his thoughts consumed by Vincent and his schemes.
One afternoon, as Isla played with Amara in the garden, a staff member approached with a silver envelope in hand.
“Mrs. Russo,” the maid said politely, handing her the envelope.
“What’s this?” Isla asked, wiping her hands on her dress before taking the letter.
“It was delivered just now, addressed to both you and Mr. Russo.”
Isla frowned, glancing at the elegant, embossed script on the front. She opened it carefully, revealing an invitation.
Mr. Vincent Russo cordially invites you to an evening of elegance and celebration.
The rest of the details listed a date and time-two days from now-along with a location at a luxury hotel downtown. Isla’s stomach churned.
“Vincent,” she murmured under her breath.
Dante appeared behind her, his presence unmistakable even without a word. He plucked the card from her hands and read it silently, his jaw tightening with each passing second.
“This is a trap,” he said flatly, his voice low and dangerous.
“It might be,” Isla agreed, though her voice wavered. “But why would he send an invitation if he wasn’t sure we’d come?”
Dante scoffed, tossing the card onto the nearby table. “Because Vincent loves playing games. He knows I won’t ignore a public spectacle like this. It’s his way of flexing power.”
“What do we do?” Isla asked, her heart pounding.
Dante’s eyes softened as he looked at her. “We go. But only because I need to see what he’s planning.”
—
The next two days passed in a haze of preparation. Dante remained composed but sharp, issuing instructions to his security team and making arrangements for their safety. Isla watched him closely, noting the way his demeanor had shifted. He was in control, but there was a storm brewing beneath the surface.
On the evening of the party, Isla dressed carefully. She chose a sleek, floor-length black gown that hugged her figure, the simplicity of the design offset by the elegance of her diamond necklace. Amara was left in the care of their trusted nanny, much to Isla’s reluctance.
When she descended the stairs, Dante was waiting in the foyer. He wore a tailored black suit, his dark hair perfectly styled, and his sharp features exuding authority. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, softening briefly before returning to their usual intensity.
“You look stunning,” he said, offering her his arm.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice quiet but steady.
As they stepped outside, the sleek black car waiting for them, Isla couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease. She knew Vincent well enough to understand that this party wasn’t just a celebration-it was a statement.
—
The venue was extravagant, even by Russo standards. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting warm light across the ballroom’s marble floors. Guests in designer gowns and sharp suits mingled, their laughter and conversation filling the air. A live orchestra played softly in the background, adding a touch of sophistication to the already opulent scene.
Isla’s grip on Dante’s arm tightened as they entered. His presence was magnetic, drawing the attention of nearly every guest in the room.
“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low but reassuring.
They made their way through the crowd, exchanging polite nods and brief greetings with familiar faces. But Isla’s focus was elsewhere. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for Vincent.
“There he is,” Dante said, his tone laced with disdain.
Vincent stood near the center of the room, surrounded by a small group of influential figures. He was dressed impeccably, his signature smug smile firmly in place. When his gaze landed on Dante and Isla, his grin widened.
“Dante!” he called, spreading his arms theatrically. “So glad you could make it!”
“Vincent,” Dante replied coolly as they approached.
Vincent’s eyes flickered to Isla, his smile taking on an almost predatory edge. “And the lovely Mrs. Russo. It’s always a pleasure.”
“Vincent,” Isla said, forcing her voice to remain steady.
The tension between the two men was palpable. Vincent’s casual charm was a thin veil for the hostility simmering beneath the surface.
“Come, let’s have a drink,” Vincent said, gesturing toward the bar. “We have much to discuss.”
Dante hesitated, but Isla placed a hand on his arm. “Go,” she said softly. “I’ll be fine.”
He gave her a reluctant nod before following Vincent, his posture rigid.
—
Isla wandered through the ballroom, feeling out of place among the glamorous crowd. She sipped her champagne, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen.
“Mrs. Russo, isn’t it?” a voice interrupted her thoughts.
She turned to see a woman approaching-a striking brunette in a shimmering gold gown. Her smile was warm, but there was an edge to it that put Isla on guard.
“Yes, I’m Isla,” she said politely.
“I’m Sabrina,” the woman replied, extending a hand. “An old friend of Dante’s.”
Isla’s smile faltered slightly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Sabrina’s eyes gleamed with amusement, as if she enjoyed Isla’s discomfort. “Dante and I go way back. He’s always been… complicated, hasn’t he?”
“I suppose that depends on how you define complicated,” Isla replied, her tone cool.
Sabrina laughed lightly. “Oh, don’t mind me. I just like stirring the pot.”
Before Isla could respond, a commotion near the bar caught her attention. She turned to see Dante and Vincent locked in what appeared to be a heated argument.
Her heart sank as she watched Dante’s posture stiffen, his hands clenching at his sides. Vincent, on the other hand, seemed almost amused, his smile never faltering.
“Excuse me,” Isla said, setting her glass down and making her way toward them.
As she approached, Vincent’s voice cut through the noise.
“Careful, Dante,” he said, his tone mocking. “You wouldn’t want to make a scene.”
Dante’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Isla placed a hand on his arm, drawing his attention.
“Is everything alright?” she asked softly.
Dante’s eyes softened briefly as he looked at her. “It’s fine,” he said, though his voice was strained.
Vincent smirked. “Always the peacemaker, Mrs. Russo. How charming.”
Isla ignored him, focusing on Dante. “Maybe we should go,” she suggested.
Dante hesitated, his gaze shifting back to Vincent. Finally, he nodded. “Let’s go.”
As they left the ballroom, Isla couldn’t shake the feeling that the night’s events were far from over. Vincent’s smirk lingered in her mind, a reminder of the games he loved to play.
“Dante,” she said quietly as they got into the car. “What was that about?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise.
“Dante-”
“Please, Isla,” he said, his voice softer now. “Not tonight.”
She sighed, leaning back in her seat. The tension between them was palpable, but she didn’t press further. She could only hope that whatever Vincent was planning, they’d face it together.