Breaking point

Dante~

Isla hadn’t said a word since we left the church, which was expected. I did kill her brother.

She sat stiffly in the backseat, her wedding dress stained with blood that wasn't hers. Her hands trembled in between her laps, but she didn’t wipe away the tears streaming down her face. She didn’t look at me, didn’t acknowledge me.

That was fine.

She would still have to face me sooner or later.

The car ride was silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. My men were in the front, driving us back to my estate, while I sat beside her, watching with keen interest.

I had never been with a redhead before and a part of me was curious to know how she would taste. I knew however, that there was absolutely no need to rush. She now belonged to me.

Those lush lips of hers would certainly be put to good use, and those eyes!

She definitely had her father's eyes.

The hatred burning in them wasn’t new. I had seen it in countless people before her.

It only made me more obsessed with breaking her, making her pay for everything her family had taken from me.

Looks like I'll have plenty of time to do that.

I leaned back against the seat, loosening my tie. "You should get some rest," I told her, breaking the silence.

"It’s been a long day."

Isla didn’t respond.

I smirked. "Silent treatment, huh? I expected more of a fight."

Still nothing.

Amusement flickered through me, but it didn’t last. A part of me had wanted her to scream, to curse, to throw herself at me with that fiery defiance I knew was buried somewhere deep inside her.

Instead, she just sat there. Hollow.

It almost annoyed me. It bored me.

When we arrived at the estate, I stepped out of the car first, expecting her to follow. She didn’t move.

One of my men tried to reach for the door, but I held up a hand. "She’ll come out on her own."

Isla finally turned her head to me, her face expressionless. Then, slowly, she stepped out of the car, her heels clicking against the pavement. The second she stood, she lifted her chin, her cold gaze locking onto mine.

For the first time, she spoke.

"I will never forgive you."

Her voice was steady, sharp as a blade. There was no trembling, no weakness.

I smirked. "Good."

She blinked, caught off guard.

"Hatred is still an emotion, sweetheart," I murmured, stepping closer. "That means you still care."

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t step back.

Interesting.

I turned and headed inside, knowing she had no choice but to follow.

The moment the doors shut behind us, I gestured for one of the maids. "Take her to the master bedroom. Get her cleaned up."

Isla stiffened. "I’m not sleeping in your room."

I met her glare with an amused one of my own. "You’re my wife now, Isla. Where else would you sleep?"

Her nostrils flared. "I’d rather sleep outside."

I leaned in slightly, just enough to make her uncomfortable. "That can be arranged."

She glared up at me, hatred burning bright again. This was better. This, I could work with.

"Take her," I ordered, stepping away.

The maid hesitated but nodded. "Come with me, ma’am."

Isla didn’t move at first. Then, finally, she turned on her heel and followed, her back rigid.

I watched her go, a slow smirk tugging at my lips.

This marriage was just the beginning. And Isla was going to learn very quickly, that there is no winning against me.

I waited for over an hour before heading up the stairs. I wanted to give her time to process, to let the anger fester. I had the upper hand afterall.

When I entered the master bedroom, Isla was standing near the window, her back to me. She had changed into a silk robe, her wedding dress now discarded on the floor, a crumpled reminder of the day’s events.

She didn’t turn when I stepped inside.

"You’re wasting your time." She said, her voice emotionless.

"If you’re waiting for me to break, it won’t happen."

I chuckled. "Oh, I’m not just waiting for you to break, love. I’m waiting for you to fight back."

She finally turned, her eyes burning with loathing. It didn't stop me from taking steps towards her.

"You want a fight?" she whispered.

"Fine. Let’s start with why you killed my brother."

I tilted my head. "He pulled a gun on me in the middle of my wedding. What did you expect?"

Her hands curled into fists. "He was trying to save me."

I laughed at that. "Save you?"

Somehow she was still giving a shit about her dead brother, the same person her parents were willing to sacrifice her for. It was infuriating.

I took a step closer. "From what, exactly? A marriage you were always meant for? A fate that was sealed long before he could do anything about it?"

She trembled, but not in fear. In rage.

Good.

"Matteo was stupid," I continued. "And in my world, stupid gets you killed."

Isla took a slow, deliberate step toward me. "Then maybe I should be stupid too."

Before I could react, she grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and hurled it right at me.

I dodged at the last second, the lamp shattering against the wall.

A rush of adrenaline shot through me as I turned back to her, amused. "Now we're talking" I grinned.

Isla was breathing hard, her shoulders rising and falling. "I hate you," she spat.

I grinned. "I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."

She lunged for the second lamp.

This time, I caught her wrist.

"You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," I murmured, pulling her close. "But let me give you a warning, wife..."

I leaned down until my lips were grazing her outer ear.

"If you come at me, make sure you’re ready to handle the consequences."

She ripped her arm free, stepping back, but the fire in her eyes never wavered.

"I will never be yours, Dante," she seethed.

I smirked. "We’ll see."

Then, without another word, I turned and left, shutting the door behind me.

Let her stew in her anger. Let her plot and plan her little rebellion.

It would make breaking her all the more satisfying.