Semua Bab BLOOD AND ROSES: Bab 31 - Bab 40

The morning broke pale and gray, the kind of light that washed the city in silver rather than gold. Isabella stood before the mirror in her chamber, fastening the pearl at her ear. She had chosen a simple dress today, ivory cotton that cinched modestly at her waist. It wasn’t the silk Maria tried to press into her hands. It wasn’t Moretti finery. It was the closest she could come to herself. Maria had frowned at her choice but said nothing. Only the pinch of her mouth betrayed disapproval. The maids moved about her with extra care, as though sensing something in the air that could shatter if touched too roughly. Isabella’s pulse thrummed as she descended the marble staircase. Waiting at the door was Marco, expression steady as stone, and behind him, the driver. There would be no Damian today. He had business elsewhere, though Isabella suspected his absence was strategic—another test, another leash disguised as freedom. “Signora,” Marco said, inclining his head. His tone carrie

--- Isabella’s POV The third morning came heavy with expectation. Maria fussed at her hem, smoothing the linen dress Isabella had chosen as if perfection could act as armor. “This one is too plain,” Maria muttered, reaching for silk, but Isabella placed her hand gently over the maid’s. “No,” Isabella said softly. “This one is right.” Maria’s lips pressed thin, but she stepped back. Isabella caught her reflection in the mirror: her eyes cool, her mouth serene, her navy linen falling cleanly against her frame. She looked like someone unremarkable, someone who might vanish into the crowd. But she knew better. The car ride to the university was as suffocating as ever. Marco sat in the front seat beside the driver, Rocco behind her like a shadow she could never shake. She pressed her hands together in her lap and kept her breathing steady. Yesterday’s whispers had been sharp enough to cut skin. Today, she would let them slide across her mask like blades against stone. The car slo

The courtyard was alive with noise, the kind that rang louder than lectures and outlasted the bells. Leaves chased each other across the stones, brittle gold and copper beneath shoes that scuffed and clicked, voices weaving into a steady hum of chatter. The fountain in the center spilled water in a slow, rhythmic cascade, but even that seemed drowned by laughter and whispers. Isabella felt every gaze as she crossed the open space. The weight of them slid over her like chains. They always looked. She had become a spectacle the moment Damian Moretti’s black car stopped in front of the university gates. Even today, though she’d arrived quietly, without him at her side, the shadow of his name still walked before her. The sketch portfolio was balanced against her hip, the strap cutting into her shoulder. Her heels clicked on the stone in a cadence too precise, too rehearsed. The mask she wore was flawless: serene expression, chin lifted, movements graceful as though she had been carv

Isabella’s POV I obeyed. Damian pulled his hands away as I began unzipping his pants. My hands trembled, but I bit my bottom lip, trying to stay calm. I tugged Damian’s pants down and drew in a sharp breath before reaching for his briefs. I pulled them down. And almost instantly, I froze. I hadn’t been prepared for the way his dick sprang free and smacked against my lips, making me pause in shock. My eyes widened as I stared at the thick, veiny shaft in front of me. It was big. Oh My Fucking God!, he was so fucking huge. I hadn’t even known a man could be this huge. Fuck. He pulled me closer to his dick, and just above a breath he whispered, “Suck.” My heart felt like it was about to stop with how loud it was beating, but I parted my lips and closed my eyes, slowly taking the tip into my mouth. Almost immediately, I heard a curse slip from Damian’s lips, making my eyes snap open, and before I could stop it, my gaze flickered up to him. As I slowly wrapped my mouth around his

Isabella's POV Lifting my head to look at him, I saw him lick his bottom lip, eyes darkened and intense as he spoke. “Moan for me, Bella,” he rasped, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. “Scream for me! I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” His voice dipped even lower, like it wasn’t just him speaking anymore. At that moment, everything blurred. As I stared into those empty eyes now hooded with desire, I silently begged for more. “Fuck—please—don’t stop. Please make me cum.” “Ahhh—goodness, please… right there, Damian! Please, right there!” I wasn’t sure where I found the courage to speak like that, but the words tumbled out of me as my eyes fluttered shut. I could feel his gaze burning into me as his fingers moved faster, hitting that exact spot again and again, making my moans and cries grow louder with each stroke. Why did his fingers feel so good? How did he know exactly where to touch? The way his fingers kept skillfully pumping in and out o