Chapter Twenty Four.

She walked out of the hallway like a vision I didn’t know I needed.

Isabella.

That damn dress curved around her body like it had been sewn on her skin. Dark green. Smooth satin. Soft fabric hugging every inch of her in the most dangerous way possible. Her hair was done, lips glossed, and there was a glint in her eyes like she knew exactly what she was doing—knew exactly how she looked.

And God, did she look like sin.

My throat went dry the second I saw her. I looked away before I could say or do something I’d regret, but it was too late. The image was burned into my brain—her body in that dress, the soft slope of her shoulder, the line of her collarbone, the way the fabric dipped and clung to her hips.

I can't even begin to explain the anger I felt earlier, seeing her with my men Laughing and giggling. Or how muderous I felt when I saw Luca's hands on hers, with trays sprawled around like she baked something.

The smell of chocolate still lingered around her.

I tried to act like I didn’t care. I told myself not to look again. But when she walked past me toward the car, her heels tapping against the floor like they had their own rhythm, I glanced.

I shouldn’t have.

Her ass swayed with every step, perfectly rounded, the dress rising just slightly with her movements. I clenched my jaw.

By the time I got into the car and sat beside her, my thoughts were anything but calm.

She sat there like a queen—legs crossed, face turned to the window, completely ignoring me. That should’ve been a relief. It wasn’t.

I shifted slightly in my seat, trying to hide the fact that I was already hard from the sight of her.

It’s not supposed to be like this, I told myself. She’s not supposed to affect me like this.

I stared straight ahead, breathing slow, trying to calm myself down.

This wasn’t just any woman.

This was Isabella.

Isabella Vicenzo.

Daughter of the man who ordered the death of my parents. Daughter of the man I swore I’d destroy.

So why the hell did I keep looking at her like I wanted to tear that dress off and bury myself in her?

I felt weak. Stupid. Like a man forgetting who he was just because of a woman. I hated that.

And still… I couldn’t stop the thoughts.

I remembered how her skin looked when she walked out of her room, smooth and glowing under the lights. I remembered the way she glanced around the room, confident and graceful, even with every man in the house staring at her. I remembered the slight pout on her lips when I didn’t say a word.

She wanted me to notice her.

And I did.

I noticed everything.

I beat myself up silently. I had to stop this. I had to shut it down before it got worse.

Because no matter how beautiful she looked…

She was the daughter of my enemy.

When we finally reached her father’s mansion, my cold mask was back on. I had to focus. I had to remember why we were here.

Revenge.

The driver pulled up to the tall gates and we were let in without question. Of course. I was expected. Vicenzo always made things look clean on the outside, like he was just a powerful man and not the monster he truly was.

The mansion was just as I remembered. Grand, marble pillars, golden lighting, a fountain that looked like something out of a Roman painting.

We stepped out of the car and were welcomed at the door by two guards. Then he appeared.

Vicenzo.

Older now. His hair more grey than black. But his eyes still held that same cold calculation that I’d seen the night everything changed for me.

“Matteo,” he said with a wide smile, arms open like we were old friends.

I didn’t return the smile.

“Vicenzo,” I said, voice flat.

Then his second-in-command stepped beside him—Valentino. Another snake in a suit. Loyal to the end. The kind of man who would burn a village down just to light his boss’s cigar.

“Come in, both of you,” Vicenzo said, gesturing grandly.

I gave a short nod and walked in. Isabella followed, quiet, her face unreadable. She hadn’t said a word the entire ride, and I hadn’t either.

The dining room was ridiculous—long table, too many candles, crystal glasses. All for show.

Dinner started almost immediately. Food was served, and we ate in silence for a few minutes before the talk began.

They asked me about jobs. About weapons. About hits I’d taken across Europe. They asked about my network, my contacts, my future plans.

They spoke of me like I was some legend.

The reputation I’d built over years was finally paying off. They saw me as powerful. As someone they needed to stay on the good side of.

I answered calmly, letting them believe I was playing the game. But in my chest, all I felt was hatred.

Vicenzo laughed too loud. His eyes twinkled as he bragged about his alliances, his influence in the south, his men who “never failed him.”

All I saw was blood.

The blood of my parents.

I sat there, pretending to be neutral, while every muscle in my body screamed to end him right there across the table.

But no. Not yet.

This had to be done right. Strategic. Cold.

I would destroy him slowly.

I glanced at Isabella beside me. She hadn’t touched much of her food. She sat stiff, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes down. She didn’t say anything throughout the whole meeting. Not even when her father complimented her beauty or called her his “precious jewel.”

She didn’t react.

And maybe that should’ve meant something to me. Maybe it should’ve reminded me she wasn’t like him. That she was also a victim of his control.

But I didn’t let myself go there.

Because no matter what, she was still his.

And I couldn’t afford to forget that.

Dinner ended after another thirty minutes. I stood quickly and gave Vicenzo a nod that was more of a dismissal.

He smiled, not noticing—or pretending not to.

Isabella followed silently behind me.

We walked back to the car, and I didn’t say a word. Not to her. Not to anyone.

I could feel her eyes on me, like she wanted to ask what was wrong.

But she didn’t. And I didn’t give her a chance.

She slid into the car. I followed. We didn’t speak the whole way back.

I stayed cold. Hard. Like steel.

Because if I let myself soften even a little… I knew I’d forget why I started this in the first place.

And I couldn’t afford that.

Not now.

Not ever.