CHAPTER TEN : A DANGEROUS INVITATION

Isabella was fastening her earrings when Alessandro entered their bedroom that evening.

He wore a black suit, his expression serious as he checked his watch.

"Are we going somewhere?" she asked.

"Victor Salvatore is hosting a private gathering tonight. Several business associates will be there, and I want you to accompany me."

Her fingers paused against her earlobe.

"Victor Salvatore? The man who sent the photograph?"

"Yes."

She turned to face him. "You want me to attend a gathering hosted by someone who has threatened me?"

"I want you beside me where my security team can protect you. Avoiding every place where my enemies might be present would mean keeping you inside this mansion forever."

Isabella considered that.

She didn't want fear to dictate the rest of her life, but she wasn't foolish enough to pretend the danger wasn't real.

"Will you tell me if anything happens?"

Alessandro's expression softened slightly.

"I promised I would."

"Then I'll go."

He studied her for a moment before approaching her. He adjusted one of her earrings, his fingers briefly brushing her cheek.

"You don't have to prove your courage to me, Isabella."

"I'm not trying to." She smiled nervously. "I simply don't want to spend my life being frightened of rooms I've never entered."

Something shifted in his expression.

"Stay close to me tonight. If I tell you to leave, you leave with Marco. No arguments."

She nodded. "Agreed."

He offered his arm.

"And Isabella?"

"Yes?"

"If you become uncomfortable, tell me. You don't have to pretend everything is fine just to please me."

She slipped her hand through his arm.

"I'm learning that."

For some reason, her answer stayed with him long after they left the bedroom.

Victor Salvatore's villa stood on the outskirts of Milan, surrounded by high walls and carefully maintained gardens.

Black cars lined the driveway. Men in expensive suits stood near the entrance, greeting guests whose names carried weight in the city's business circles.

When Alessandro's car arrived, the conversations near the entrance quieted.

He stepped out and offered Isabella his hand.

She accepted, smoothing the front of her elegant dress.

"Remember," he murmured, "you don't owe anyone an explanation about our marriage."

"What if someone asks how we met?"

"Tell them the truth."

She stared at him.

"The truth?"

"That your father owed me money, and we got married."

"Alessandro!"

He looked down at her horrified expression.

Then, to her surprise, he laughed.

"I'm joking. Tell them whatever you're comfortable sharing."

She shook her head, fighting a smile.

"You enjoy frightening me."

"Only when you're about to discover that I have a sense of humor."

"That sounds like a dangerous discovery."

His smile lingered as he led her inside.

The gathering was already underway. Guests stood in small groups, discussing investments, politics, and the latest business developments.

Alessandro introduced Isabella to several associates. She greeted them politely, remembering names when she could and asking questions when conversations turned to subjects she understood.

Some people appeared surprised by her quiet manner. Others seemed curious about the woman Alessandro had married so suddenly.

One older businessman smiled at her.

"Your husband has been difficult to reach lately, Mrs. Moretti."

Isabella glanced at Alessandro.

"Perhaps you should schedule your meetings earlier. He seems to believe breakfast is an excellent time to discuss business."

The man laughed.

Alessandro turned toward her, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you exposing my habits to my business associates?"

"Only the ones that concern breakfast."

For the first time that evening, his laughter was unrestrained.

Several guests looked at him in surprise.

Isabella noticed their reactions and leaned closer to him.

"Do you rarely laugh in public?"

"Apparently, you've decided to make it a habit."

She smiled, and he found himself wishing the evening could remain that simple.

Then Victor Salvatore approached.

Victor was tall, impeccably dressed, and carried himself with the confidence of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.

"Alessandro. I'm glad you came."

"Your invitation was persistent."

Victor chuckled before turning his attention to Isabella.

"And this must be your beautiful wife."

Isabella offered a polite smile.

"Isabella Moretti."

"I've heard quite a lot about you."

Her smile faltered.

"Have you?"

"Enough to make me curious." Victor glanced at Alessandro. "You married very quickly. I imagine it takes a special woman to persuade you to settle down."

"My marriage is not a business discussion," Alessandro replied.

"Of course not."

Victor's smile remained, but his eyes were cold.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself, Isabella. A woman entering our world must learn whom she can trust."

Alessandro's hand settled against the small of her back.

"Careful, Victor."

Victor raised both hands.

"I'm only being welcoming."

"Then welcome her without offering unsolicited advice about my family."

For a moment, neither man moved.

Isabella felt the tension between them and understood that their polite words concealed something much uglier.

She gently touched Alessandro's arm.

"I'm fine."

He looked at her.

She wasn't asking him to ignore the insult. She was reminding him that she could handle a conversation without him fighting every battle for her.

His jaw tightened, but he nodded.

Victor noticed the exchange.

"So she has influence over you already," he remarked.

"No," Alessandro answered. "I simply listen when my wife speaks."

Victor's smile disappeared for half a second.

Then he excused himself and moved toward another group.

Isabella watched him go.

"I don't think he likes you."

Alessandro gave her a dry look.

"What gave you that impression?"

"The way he looks at you."

"Most people who want something from me look at me that way."

"And what does he want?"

"Something he hasn't managed to take."

Before she could ask another question, Marco appeared beside them.

"Sir, I need a word with you."

Alessandro's expression changed immediately.

He turned to Isabella.

"Stay here with Daniel. He'll be nearby."

She nodded, though concern tightened her chest as Alessandro followed Marco toward the adjoining corridor.

Across the room, Bianca Rossi stood beside a business acquaintance, struggling to conceal her excitement.

She had managed to secure an invitation through a woman whose husband did business with one of Victor's partners. She hadn't expected to find Alessandro so quickly.

But there he was.

And beside him stood Isabella, looking as though she belonged in the expensive dress and glittering room.

Bianca's jealousy sharpened.

Isabella was laughing with a woman twice her age while a waiter offered her a drink. A security man remained within sight, and people approached her with the respect they gave Alessandro.

Bianca had never imagined her stepsister could command such attention without even trying.

She excused herself from her companion and approached.

"Isabella."

Isabella turned.

The smile disappeared from her face.

"Bianca? What are you doing here?"

Bianca glanced around as though the question amused her.

"Attending a business gathering. I'm surprised you didn't expect to see people from our world here."

"Our world?" Isabella repeated quietly.

"Don't pretend you've forgotten where you came from."

Isabella's fingers tightened around her clutch.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good. Because looking at you tonight, someone might think you've always lived like this."

Isabella took a slow breath.

"I didn't come here to argue with you."

"Of course you didn't. You have a powerful husband now. You don't need to argue with anyone."

Bianca's gaze moved toward the corridor where Alessandro had disappeared.

"Tell me, does he treat you well?"

Isabella hesitated.

"Why are you asking?"

"I'm your sister. I'm concerned."

The words sounded so unnatural that Isabella almost laughed.

"You never seemed concerned about me before."

Bianca's smile hardened.

"People change."

"Then perhaps you should start by apologizing for the way you treated me."

Bianca stared at her, clearly not expecting the response.

For a moment, Isabella felt the old instinct to withdraw, apologize, and make the discomfort disappear.

Instead, she held her ground.

"I have to go," she said calmly.

She turned away.

Bianca caught her wrist.

"Don't walk away from me!"

Isabella immediately pulled free.

"Please don't touch me."

The sharpness of her response surprised them both.

Bianca's face flushed.

Before she could answer, a voice sounded behind them.

"Is there a problem here?"

Alessandro had returned.

His gaze moved from Bianca to Isabella's wrist, then settled on Bianca's face.

Isabella stepped toward her husband, but she didn't hide behind him.

Bianca forced a smile.

"None at all, Mr. Moretti. Isabella and I were just catching up."

Alessandro looked at Isabella.

"Is that what happened?"

She met his eyes.

"She grabbed my wrist. I asked her to let go, and she did."

He nodded once, accepting her account without demanding more.

Then he turned to Bianca.

"Your conversation with my wife is over."

Bianca's face tightened.

"Surely you don't expect me to leave because of a little misunderstanding?"

"I expect you to respect her when she tells you not to touch her."

The surrounding conversations began to fade as nearby guests noticed the confrontation.

Bianca looked from Alessandro to Isabella.

For the first time, she understood that her stepsister's position was not simply about expensive clothes or a powerful surname.

Alessandro was willing to defend Isabella.

And he had done it without treating her like a helpless child.

Bianca stepped back, humiliation burning in her chest.

"Of course, Mr. Moretti."

She turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Alessandro watched her go before facing Isabella.

"Are you all right?"

Isabella nodded, though her hands were trembling.

"Yes. I just didn't expect to see her here."

He took her hand.

"Would you like to leave?"

She looked around the room, then back at him.

"No. I don't want her to be the reason I leave."

A flicker of admiration crossed his face.

"Very well. Stay beside me."

She squeezed his hand.

But before either could move, Marco hurried toward them, his expression grim.

"Alessandro, we have a problem."

Alessandro's face hardened.

"What happened?"

"Victor has just left the gathering. Our security team found one of his men near the cars, asking which vehicle belongs to Mrs. Moretti."

Isabella's blood ran cold.

Alessandro pulled her closer, his eyes scanning the room.

"Where is the man now?"

Marco hesitated.

"He disappeared before we could question him."

Alessandro looked toward the entrance.

For the first time that evening, Isabella saw genuine fury break through her husband's controlled expression.

"Get the cars ready. We're leaving now."

Then he looked at Isabella and took her face gently between his hands.

"Whatever happens, you stay with me. Do you understand?"

She nodded, frightened by the seriousness in his eyes.

As they hurried toward the exit, a loud crash came from the driveway.

The lights outside flickered.

And Marco's voice rang through the sudden confusion.

"ALessandro!