Chapter 5: Dante Belluci

ISABELLA

Danica smirked at me, a nasty disgust twisting her lips. “Do you think you’re finally free from everything? Not yet, Isabella. Do you know who bought you?” She chuckled. “Well, rumors say he’s the new, youngest mafia boss. And do you know what they do to a girl like you? Oops, I can’t even imagine.”

Caspian glanced at me and ordered his guard, “Take her to Mr. Belluci.” 

"Shame on you, Caspian!" I exclaimed, then turned my gaze to Danica. "And you too, Danica! I'm going to come back strong, and you two are going to pay for this!"

And they just laughed at me.

In the corner were my so-called friends, just watching me without uttering a single word of comfort. They were too scared to speak, too cowardly even to say hi.

Keira sighed; Ashley just lowered her gaze while fidgeting with her fingers, and then Sophia bit her lower lip, turned away, grabbed her purse, and walked away without even glancing at me.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, a sound devoid of humor. "Damn you," I whispered, the words catching in my throat, a choked sob threatening to break free. "Damn you, all of you."

The guard took me outside, where a luxury van was waiting for me. I didn't say a word. I was so shocked, so shocked to learn that the man who bought me, and without hesitation threw his money away in a fucking auction, is the ruthless mafia boss. There have always been rumors about the Belluci family, but I've always kept quiet about them. Because our worlds are different, but look at me now. I'm going to live with him… as his slave? His maid? God, I'm scared.

I settled into the back of the van, a gasp escaping my lips as my eyes landed on Mr. Belluci in the seat beside me. A nervous flutter tightened my chest, but then his perfume, a rich, dark scent, filled my nostrils. He was immense, a large man with shoulders that seemed to span the seat. Sitting next to him, I felt small and fragile, like a doll incapable of movement. 

He was dressed in a black suit, a sight that somehow felt both intimidating and expected.

Then, his voice, deep and resonant, cut through the silence. "Drive." It wasn't a request, but a command that brooked no argument.

I swallowed hard, the proximity of his warm body making my skin prickle. He turned his head slightly, his gaze intense. "Do you understand clearly why you're with me?" 

Oh my god, do I really have to answer him? Why is it so hard for me to talk to someone like him? I've always talked back to anyone my whole life, but with him, it's like my tongue's been tied in knots.

"Isabella, that's your name, right?" he said, trying to sound friendlier this time. "I don't mean to be rude, but why are you so quiet? Are you afraid of me?" 

Even his simple questions make me tremble. He's a mafia boss. A killer. Someone who kills for business.

I swallowed hard and managed to speak softly, “W-What's your name?” Damn it, I even stammered.

He stared at me; he had that kind of face... hard to look away from. Sharp, like it was carved from stone, with a jaw that could probably crack walnuts.

"You don't know me?" he sneered, a flash of perfectly white teeth.

Belluci. I'd heard their family name, of course. Everyone had. But I'd never bothered to pay attention, never cared. And I definitely hadn't expected someone from that family to look... like that. Dangerously handsome, in a way that set off every alarm bell in my head. Looks could be deceiving, after all. 

He could be the devil himself, hiding behind that pretty face of his.

I shook my head, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "No, I don't. But since you bought me at auction, you'll have plenty of time to introduce yourself." Damn it, I thought. The words came out sharper than intended, a touch of my old self, the one I'd thought was gone.

He scoffed quietly. I saw the driver's eyes flick to the rearview mirror before Mr. Belluci pressed the button, and the privacy window slid shut. He turned to me, his gaze lingering, as if he were trying to figure out what to do with a particularly perplexing puzzle. Maybe he just wants a toy, I thought grimly.

So, I decided to cut to the chase. "So, what do you want with me? Five hundred million dollars isn't exactly pocket change." I bit my lip, then forced myself to continue. "Let's be honest, you want my body, right? A man like you buys women for pleasure... and when you're done, you'll throw me away like trash." My voice cracked, but I managed to get it all out—no more guessing games. I preferred to be blunt.

"That's not what I want from you, Isabella," he said, his voice surprisingly level.

He didn't look like the predatory man I'd imagined an hour ago. He looked... almost disinterested. Why wouldn't he want something? I'd been rich, well-educated, and, let's be honest, attractive. Why did his apparent indifference feel like an insult?

"So, you don't want me?" I scoffed, incredulous. "Me?" I gestured to myself.

He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto mine, and whispered, "I don't know what I want with you. But since you insist, let me think about it."

My eyes widened. "So, you just bought me... for nothing?"

He answered coldly, “Nothing is ever for nothing, Isabella. There’s always a reason.” 

Damn it, he was making me a nervous wreck. What was he planning this time?

When we arrived at his mansion, it was so vast it dwarfed my own. Words couldn't capture its extravagance, yet it felt strangely lifeless, reflecting a stark, masculine personality.

We walked together down a long hallway, each step echoing in the oppressive silence. He stopped abruptly, and I froze, looking up. Oh, Jeez! He was so tall and towering over me.

His gaze dropped, meeting mine. "You're going to play my game," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion.

"What game? What if I don't want to play your silly game?" Why did I still sound like I was rich? I am a poor woman now. Poor. I could do nothing if this man wanted me to be his toy.

"You're going to play it anyway. I always get what I want, Isabella," he said, a hint of steel in his voice. He gestured to a waiting butler. "Take her to her room."

"Yes, sir," the butler, a man who looked to be in his fifties, approached me. "This way, Miss Isabella."

But what did he really want from me?