Chapter 6

Isabella's POV

“Sit down,” Donatello pointed to the chair opposite him.  My heart throbs loudly in my chest and I placed my hands on my laps, hoping to his the nerves that betrayed me.

“Nervous?” Donatello's steel eyes pierce my soul. “Not at all,” I replied.

“Good.”

He pushed a document towards me. “Do you care to read it?”

It was a lot.

I looked up at him, staring at his unbothered face. “No,” I said. “You've given me your word and I trust it is the same that is in here.”

His left eye twitches a little, the only sign I have to see that my words had an impact. “Can I have a pen?”

He slid a pen to me on the desk and I reached for it, my fingers coming in contact with his hard knuckles. His palm was large, almost enveloping the long pen in it.

“Where should I start?”

Donatello helped me, pointing at every place that I needed to put in my signature and filling in every important information.

“That should be all,” I said, signing the last page. He took the outstretcydocumets from my hand and he flipped the pages, his eyes scanning them quickly.

“You'll get a copy of this,” he said, pushing it into his desk drawer.

I had showered and changed into a long flowy gown I saw in the wardrobe.

“So,” I asked nervously. “What's next?”

He stood up. “We're going to the hospital.”

“The general one?”

“No,” he adjusted the buttons of his suit, his tattooed hand popping one open. “Mine.”

I got up and followed him and we left the office. His house was huge, and I mentally promised myself I would explore it later.

There's a limousine parked at the entrance right as we stepped out, with a chauffeur there. “Hop in,” Donatello said to me, placing his hands on my lower back.

My legs almost turned into cold noodles as I slid on the leather seats, craving his touch again.

He joined me and shut the door quickly, then proceeded to be more focused on his phone than me.

I looked out of the car, as trees and life went by, people being happy on the streets. I saw a group of kids playing in their front yard, their mum holding another child, and I wondered if they were all hers.

How lucky she must feel.

The car skidded to a stop and I stepped down, standing behind Donatello. No one speaks to us as we walk into the high rise clinic, not even the security..

Donatello grinned as a man came over . “Hello, Hector,” he glanced at me, hiding behind. “Hi,” I said over his shoulder.

“This is Isabella,” Donatello grabs my waist, pulling me close to him. I smiled at the nice doctor, very aware of the hard hand that was pressed to my side. “She's the one.”

The doctor grinned happily. “At last. Let's get started, miss.”

I followed him inside, turning back to look at the man who brought him here. As the door closed in the distance, I watched his dark eyes shine brighter as I locked my lips, his gaze on them.

The tests were easy to undergo. Routine check ups, HIV, HPV and all other sexually transmitted diseases. I had only been with one man my entire life, but I couldn't rule it out that he gave me something.

The following days passed by in a blur. Donatello rarely followed me to my appointments, but we always had dinner together, where I was expected to recount my daily activities.

I spent the daytime alone, exploring his mansion. I already had a favourite room, the large ballroom with hanging golden chandeliers everywhere. It looked like it came out of a fairy tale, and I couldn't wait to see how he used that room.

In all of these, I plot my revenge on Marcus. Having his uncle's babies would not be enough, I had to make Donatello fall hard for me, so I could ruin his life. I knew how much he valued his uncle's advice.

Having Donatello's babies would make Marcus sad, making the man who raised him, cared for him and still protects him, the man he practically worshipped like he was a god, fall at my knees?

That would crush his soul.

Donatello allowed me to go shopping after my appointments, with all expenses covered by him. I still remember the dinner when he stood up, wiping his lips and placing a gold card next to my plate.

“You still have your ex’s card,” his voice was cold, “throw it away.”

I did exactly that, getting rid of the card

 He helped me deliver the divorce papers to Marcus and when they returned back to me signed, I heaved heavily.

It was time for part two.

I bought a lot of gowns, seductive dresses and tops meant to flatter my figure. Silk, satin, cashmere. Little gowns that felt soft to touch, hinting at a bit of modesty, while showing I was interested in him.

The first night, I wore a pink flowy night gown that had a sweet heart neckline, while it hugged my body perfectly, showing my slender curves. The bodice of the gown lifted my breasts slightly and I had an ample amount of cleavage showing.

When I walked into the dining room, Donatello had choked on his steak. Dinner was very short for him that day as he rushed off, saying something about having a meeting to attend. 

Tonight, I wore another silk nightdress, this time, red. The V neck dipped low and as I moved in it, my nipples perked up, hardening.

It had a long slit up my thigh, and with every step I took, my entire leg was out. I sprayed my favourite mild perfume, and put my hair in a messy bun.

Donatello is sat at the head of the table as usual. “Hello,” I said. He looked at me, his eyes empty tonight.

“Hello Isabella.”

I walked to my seat, swaying my hips softly. Tonight, I will take an extra step. I felt his eyes on my ass and when I sat down, facing him and he didn't look away.

“Is there an occasion?”

“No,” I purred. “Why?”

“You look beautiful,” Donatello rang the bell, calling the maids while I reeled from the first compliment he had ever given me.

They served us quickly and dinner tonight was salmon and gravy. “Mmmmhhh,” I moaned, taking a piece of fish into my mouth.

The salty and oil melted nicely, causing me to moan again. I was a sucker for fish. “This is so good.”

“I can tell,” is his gruff reply. I placed my cutlery down, and pushed myself forward, placing both hands understand my chin. The V in my gown goes lower and when I see his eyes drop there, I knew I had him.

“So,” I started, “how was work?”

“You've never asked me that before.”

“I am curious.”

Donatello leaned back on his chair. “Money is being made.”

“What exactly do you do?”

He grinned. “What do you think?”

“I think you're the Boss,” I replied, biting my lips. He traces my movements with his eyes, not breaking his facade as heat flooded my body.

He looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive.

“What are you doing,Isabella?” He asked. The heavy question hung between us, unfinished plates of foods in front of us.

“Talking to you,” I said. 

“No. What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you company.”

He stood up abruptly. “I would be in my office, if you have any need.”

I watched him leave the dining room, his shoulders tense.

I needed to break him.