Chapter Twenty Three.

Isabella.

What do you mean we’re going to my father’s mansion?” I shouted, chasing after Matteo as he walked down the hallway like he hadn’t just turned my world upside down.

He didn’t even slow down. His long strides ate up the distance as I struggled to keep up behind him.

“You can’t just drop something like that on me without warning!” I said again, louder this time. “Matteo!”

Finally, he stopped and turned to face me. There was that usual calm, collected look on his face. It made me want to scream.

“I just did,” he said with a small smirk. “We have a dinner there tonight. You should get dressed.”

I stared at him. “You—what?”

“There’s a dress in your room. Shoes, too,” he added casually. “Wear it.”

And then, without another word, he turned his back to me and walked away, his coat brushing behind him like some royal cloak.

I stood there in the hallway, completely speechless.

I wanted to throw something.

I wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him until he explained everything properly. Why now? Why was I going back there? What kind of dinner? With who? Was my father even expecting me?

But of course, Matteo never gave full answers. He just left me standing there, fuming in silence.

I stormed back to my room, muttering all sorts of curses under my breath. “Arrogant, controlling, emotionless—”

When I opened the door, my eyes landed on a sleek black box placed neatly on my bed. I frowned and walked over. The lid came off with a soft sound, and inside was a beautiful dress. Dark green satin. Off-shoulder. Elegant but deadly.

Just like him.

Next to it, a pair of strappy black heels sat in their own smaller box. My fingers touched the fabric of the dress. It was soft. Smooth. Perfectly tailored for someone like me.

I glared at it.

“Stupid Matteo,” I muttered, walking to the mirror. “Thinks he can boss me around like I’m one of his soldiers.”

Still, I started to change.

And as I slipped the dress over my head and smoothed it over my curves, something shifted in me. I saw myself in the mirror, and I had to admit—I looked good.

No. I looked better than good. I looked powerful. Dangerous. Like a woman who didn’t need permission to walk into a room and own it.

As I adjusted the dress and applied some quick makeup, I told myself I didn’t care what Matteo thought. He wouldn’t notice anyway. He never did.

But deep down, I hoped he would. Just once.

I finished getting ready, checked my reflection one last time, and stepped out into the hallway.

And the reaction was immediate.

Enzo looked up and let out a low whistle. Alexander blinked, then smiled wide. Even Hugo’s eyes went a little round as he said, “Damn, Isabella.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That a compliment, Hugo?”

He nodded quickly. “You look… wow.”

I laughed softly, despite the nerves in my stomach. It felt good to be seen. Really seen. For a moment, I let myself believe maybe Matteo would look at me the same way.

I walked further into the main room where the rest of Matteo’s men were. One by one, they all turned and stared. Compliments flew left and right—some soft and respectful, some loud and teasing.

“You’re making us look bad,” Alexander joked.

“She’s gonna steal the show,” Enzo added with a grin.

Luca was my biggest supporter as usual, he stared at me with wide eyes, before his face morphed into a full blown grin.

"You look beautiful Bella." He said softly. Ahis voice was laced with something I couldn't quite catch. I'll think about that later.

All of that praise should’ve made me feel confident, and it did... until the door opened and Matteo stepped in.

He glanced around the room, his expression blank as always. His eyes slid over everyone—then briefly landed on me.

For half a second, I thought I saw something in his eyes. A flicker. A pause.

But then it was gone.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t blink. Just turned toward the door and said, “Let’s go. Get in the car.”

That was it.

No compliment. No reaction. Not even a raised brow.

It hit me harder than I expected. All the hope I’d secretly tucked away in my chest crumbled in an instant.

I said nothing. Didn’t even look at him as I walked past and headed to the car. If he could pretend not to notice me, then I could do the same.

The air outside was cool as I climbed into the black car. I sat stiffly, facing the window, ignoring the presence I could feel beside me.

He slid in next to me a moment later, calm as always. He gave the driver a nod, and the engine came to life.

We didn’t speak.

I didn’t even look at him.

My heart was racing, but not from nerves about seeing my father.

It was because I was furious.

Furious at myself for hoping. Furious at him for not seeing me. Furious at this whole game we kept playing—where he pushed me away, then dragged me along, never letting me get close enough to understand.

As the car moved through the streets, my hands curled into fists in my lap.

This dinner, whatever it was, better be worth it.

Because if Matteo kept pushing me like this, I didn’t know how much longer I could hold back.