Chapter 19

Isabella's POV

The reality of it crashed over me in waves, each one harder than the last.

This wasn't just about being trapped in this house anymore. This was about being displayed, showcased to every powerful mafia family as Matteo Romano's future wife.

An engagement party meant guests. Important and dangerous guests. People who would look at me and see an opportunity, a weakness, a way to get to Matteo.

And if someone was already trying to kill us, what would happen when I was paraded in front of dozens of potential enemies?

I would become a walking target.

The thought made my stomach turn.

"I need to talk to you about this engagement party."

"What about it?"

"I can't do it."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Isabella, we've already discussed this—"

"No, you discussed it. You announced it like it was already decided and then walked away." I moved closer to his desk, needing him to see how serious I was. "Matteo, please. I can't be put on display like that. Do you understand what you're asking?"

"I'm asking you to attend a party."

"You're asking me to become a target!" The words burst out louder than I intended.

I took a breath, forcing myself to speak more calmly. "Someone already tried to kill us. If you parade me in front of every rival mafia family in the city, I'll have a target on my back the size of the bloody Thames."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with those dark, unreadable eyes. "You're already a target. The engagement party doesn't change that."

"It makes it worse. Right now, most people don't even know I exist. I could disappear tomorrow and nobody would care. But once you announce me as your fiancée, once all those families see me, I'll be known. I'll be vulnerable."

"You'll be protected."

"By who? Your guards?" I gestured towards the door. "The same guards who let a sniper get close enough to take a shot at us on your own balcony?"

His jaw tightened at that, but he didn't respond. A small victory, perhaps, that I had managed to hit a nerve.

"I want to remain low-key," I continued, pressing my advantage. "I want to stay in the background where it's safe. Please, Matteo. Just hold off on the engagement party. Give it a few months, at least until whoever tried to kill us is dealt with."

"The engagement party is part of dealing with them."

"What?"

He stood, coming around the desk to lean against it, his arms crossed. "Showing weakness invites more attacks. Cancelling the party, hiding you away like I'm afraid—that sends the wrong message. It tells everyone that I can be intimidated, that I'm vulnerable. And in this world, vulnerability gets you killed."

"So you're willing to risk my life to prove a point?"

"I'm willing to show strength to prevent future attacks." His voice was firm but not unkind. "The engagement party demonstrates that we're moving forward with our plans despite what happened. It shows confidence, power, and control. Those things matter, Isabella."

I stared at him, feeling the walls closing in again. Every argument I made, he had a counter for.

Every concern I raised, he dismissed.

"Please." I hated how desperate the word sounded. "Please just postpone it. Even a few weeks would help. Just give me time to adjust to all of this before you throw me to the wolves."

Something flickered across his face…consideration, maybe, or sympathy. He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine.

"You really don't want this party."

"I really don't want this party."

He pushed off the desk and moved closer to me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "What if we made a deal?"

Suspicion immediately flared in my chest. "What kind of deal?"

"I'll agree to postpone the engagement party. Push it back a few weeks, give you time to settle in." His voice was smooth, reasonable. "But I'll need something from you in return."

My heart began to pound harder. "What do you want?"

"Share a bed with me tonight."

I felt my face flush hot, my mouth going dry. "What?"

"You heard me." He didn't look embarrassed or uncomfortable. He just watched me with that steady, unwavering gaze. "One night. You sleep in my bed, and I postpone the party."

"Absolutely not."

"Then the party happens in three days."

I took a step back, needing distance. "You can't be serious. You're actually trying to blackmail me into sleeping with you?"

"I'm offering you a trade. You want something from me, I want something from you. That's how negotiations work."

"This isn't a negotiation, it's extortion!"

"Call it whatever you want." He moved closer again, following me as I retreated. "But those are my terms. Share my bed tonight, and I'll give you the time you're asking for."

"I'm not about to sleep with my enemy."

The word came out harsher than I intended, but I meant it. That's what he was—the enemy. I couldn't let myself forget that, no matter how attractive he was or how much my traitorous body responded to his proximity.

"Is that what I am to you?" His voice was softer now, almost hurt. "Your enemy?"

"What else would you call someone who kidnapped me and is forcing me into an engagement I don't want?"

"Your future husband."

I nearly choked. "That's not happening."

"It's already happening, Isabella. The only question is how difficult you want to make it."

I shook my head, feeling panic rising again. This conversation had spiralled completely out of control. "I can't do this."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both!"

"Why not?"

"Because—" I stopped, the words tangling in my throat.

Because I don't know what's going on. Because my aunt Carla hasn't contacted me and I don't understand why.

Because I'm supposed to be finding out information, not getting distracted by feelings I shouldn't have.

Because you're dangerous and complicated and I can't let myself fall for this.

But I couldn't say any of that out loud.

"Because you're my captor," I finished weakly. "Because I barely know you."

"Then let's change that." He was close now, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Share my bed tonight. Not for sex—just sleep. Let's get to know each other. Let's see if we can make this work."

"It won't work."

"How do you know if you won't try?"

"Because it can't." My voice cracked slightly. "People like us don't work, Matteo. We're from different worlds."

"We're in the same world now."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek in that same almost-tender gesture from before.

This time I didn't pull away. I stood frozen, trapped between the urge to run and the dangerous desire to lean into his touch.

"Don't fight your attraction to me," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you respond when I'm close. This is meant to be, Isabella. Stop resisting it."

"I'm not attracted to you."

"Liar."

His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. My breath caught in my throat.

I should push him away. I should tell him to stop, should maintain the distance I desperately needed to keep my head clear.

But I didn't.

He leaned in slowly, giving me time to object, time to retreat.

Instead, I stood there like a statue, my heart hammering so hard I was certain he could hear it.

His lips brushed against my neck, just below my ear.

The sensation sent electricity racing down my spine, stealing the breath from my lungs.

"Matteo—" His name came out as barely a whisper.

"Tell me to stop." His breath was warm against my skin. "Tell me you don't want this and I'll walk away right now."

I opened my mouth to say exactly that, to tell him to leave me alone, to end this madness before it went any further.

But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, a sound escaped me—something between a gasp and a moan that I couldn't control.

My body betrayed me, leaning into him despite everything my mind was screaming.

His lips moved along my neck, trailing kisses that set my nerves on fire.

His other hand found my waist, pulling me closer against him.

I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, strong and steady, so different from my own frantic rhythm.

This was wrong. This was so completely, utterly wrong.

But it felt incredible.

His mouth moved higher, along my jaw, getting closer to my lips. I could feel his breath mixing with mine, could see the heat in his dark eyes as he looked at me.

And in that moment, I understood just how dangerous Matteo Romano really was.

Not because of his power or his position or the violence he was capable of.

But because he made me want to surrender, made me want to stop fighting, made me forget every reason why this was a terrible idea.

His lips were a breath away from mine when clarity finally broke through the haze of desire clouding my mind.

I pulled back sharply, breaking free from his embrace. I stumbled backwards, putting several metres between us.