The First Test

Chapter 6: The First Test

Inferno pulsed with energy, the scent of expensive liquor and sin thick in the air. Isla stood behind the bar, pretending to focus on cleaning glasses while keeping an eye on the VIP section.

Dante was watching her again.

She felt his gaze like a brand against her skin, assessing, calculating.

Since the night he had claimed her as his personal server, he had been testing her. Small, subtle power plays meant to unnerve her, to see how far she would bend before breaking.

But she wouldn’t break.

She had spent years preparing for this.

Tonight, she would prove she wasn’t just another distraction to him.

Tonight, she would make him want her.

Her plan was unfolding perfectly—until Dante moved.

With effortless grace, he rose from his seat, crossed the room, and stopped directly in front of her.

"Come with me."

A command, not a request.

She forced a small, confused frown. "My shift isn’t over."

Dante’s lips curved in amusement. "It is now."

A part of her wanted to resist—to push back just enough to test the limits of his patience—but she knew better.

So, instead, she nodded, wiping her hands on her apron before untying it and tossing it onto the bar.

Luca was watching from the corner, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Dante led her outside, where a sleek black car waited. Without hesitation, he opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in.

The moment she slid inside, she knew she was stepping into the lion’s den.

And she had no choice but to play along.

The silence in the car was suffocating. Isla kept her posture relaxed, staring out the tinted window as the city lights blurred past. Dante sat beside her, his presence a dark and commanding force.

“Where are we going?” she asked, feigning curiosity.

Dante’s fingers drummed against his knee. “Somewhere you’ll either hate or love.”

That wasn’t an answer, but she didn’t push. Instead, she let the silence stretch, knowing men like him thrived in control. If she acted too eager, he’d be suspicious. If she seemed too indifferent, he’d push harder.

The car finally slowed, pulling into a private, dimly lit parking lot. Isla’s stomach tightened as she spotted a neon-red sign: Inferno’s Underground.

A fight club.

Her heart pounded. She had heard whispers about this place—where men fought without rules, where money and blood mixed in equal measure.

Dante stepped out, rounding the car to open her door. The move was almost gentlemanly, if not for the way he looked at her, as if daring her to hesitate.

She didn’t.

Inside, the air was thick with sweat and anticipation. The crowd roared as a fighter was thrown against the cage, blood splattering the floor. Isla kept her expression neutral, but inside, her stomach twisted.

Dante leaned close, his breath against her ear. “Not scared, are you, Bella?”

She forced a small smirk. “Should I be?”

His lips quirked upward. “We’ll see.”

He guided her toward the VIP section, where men in expensive suits sat, placing bets, sipping whiskey. Dante’s presence commanded attention, but Isla could feel the weight of Luca’s gaze on her from the opposite side of the room.

She ignored it.

A man in the cage, broad and brutal, pointed toward Dante. “DeLuca, get in here.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across Dante’s face.

He shrugged off his jacket, handing it to Isla. “Hold this.”

Her fingers curled around the expensive fabric, her mind racing.

He was going to fight.

The thought sent a strange pulse through her—excitement? Fear? She wasn’t sure.

Dante stepped into the cage, rolling his shoulders. The other fighter lunged, but Dante was faster, dodging the blow with ease.

Then he struck.

The sound of his fist connecting with flesh was sickening. The man staggered back, blood trailing from his nose, but Dante didn’t stop. He delivered a ruthless kick to the ribs, sending him crashing into the steel.

The crowd went wild.

Isla stood frozen, her grip tightening around Dante’s jacket.

This wasn’t just a fight.

This was who he was.

And for the first time, she wondered if she had underestimated the monster she was trying to seduce.

Dante’s gaze sharpened. He wasn’t used to women playing his game.

Before he could respond, Luca appeared beside them, his expression unreadable.

“We need to talk,” he told Dante.

Dante didn’t move his eyes from Isla. “Later.”

Luca’s jaw ticked. “Now.”

For a moment, she thought Dante might refuse. But then he exhaled sharply and turned to her. “Stay here.”

Isla nodded, watching as he disappeared into the back.

The moment he was gone, Luca stepped closer.

“You should leave,” he murmured.

She arched a brow. “Why?”

Luca’s eyes were cold. “Because you don’t belong in Dante’s world.”

She let out a soft, amused laugh. No

The air inside the underground fight club was thick with sweat, adrenaline, and the unmistakable scent of blood. The crowd roared with each punch, each vicious blow landing on flesh. It was a cacophony of violence that somehow seemed to pulse through Isla's veins. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and for a moment, she felt like a fish out of water. The bright lights of Inferno were far behind her now, replaced by the dark, grimy atmosphere of a world she’d only seen in whispers and rumors.

Dante, towering beside her, was in his element. His presence alone seemed to command the room, and even though he finished fighting, there was a palpable tension around him. His eyes, dark as the shadows around them, flickered between the brawlers in the ring, occasionally meeting Isla’s gaze, challenging her to look away. She didn’t. She couldn’t.

"Enjoying the show, Bella?" Dante's voice was low, just above a whisper, but it cut through the noise around them. His hand brushed against her arm, sending an unexpected jolt of warmth through her body.

"I’m just trying to take it all in," she replied coolly, her eyes never leaving the violent scene unfolding before her. She needed to remain calm, to not let him see any fear or weakness. Her father had been murdered in a similar setting, and she would be damned if she allowed herself to show any sign of fear now, not with Dante so close, watching her every move.

“You should.” His voice dropped again, a flicker of something dangerous beneath the calm surface. “This is where real power is tested, where men show who they truly are. Fight or die.”

Isla’s lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “Sounds like your kind of place.”

Dante’s eyes darkened slightly, but there was no mistaking the amusement that followed. He didn’t respond immediately, instead turning his attention back to the fight. The man in the ring, a hulking figure, had just knocked his opponent out cold. The crowd cheered, some people already pulling out wads of cash to pay their bets.

“Do you gamble on these fights?” Isla asked, trying to deflect from the charged energy between them.

Dante’s lips curled into a smile, though it was far from friendly. “Only when I’m certain of the outcome.”

She nodded, her gaze sweeping the room. There were people here from all walks of life, men with scars, tattoos, and eyes that had seen too much. This wasn’t a place for the faint of heart. Isla felt like an outsider, even though she was in disguise, playing the part of Bella Caruso. But then she caught a glimpse of Dante, standing tall, his dark suit cutting through the gloom like a sharp knife, and she realized something. No matter how much she tried to blend in, she would never truly be part of his world.

Not yet, anyway.

The fight ended, the winner raising his bloodied hands in victory as the crowd erupted into applause. Isla felt a tug at her chest, a reminder of the anger and sadness that had been festering inside her for years. Her father had died in a similar way, surrounded by men like these. Men who lived for power, for violence, for control.

“Why did you bring me here?” Isla asked, her voice a little sharper than she intended. She didn’t look at Dante when she asked, not wanting him to see the vulnerability creeping into her expression. She was here for a reason, but that reason was slipping further and further away from her.

Dante didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming her senses. “You think this is about the fight?” he asked, his voice a hushed growl against her ear. “This is about seeing what you’re really made of.”

Isla swallowed. She wasn’t sure if it was the tension in the air or the way Dante spoke that made her pulse quicken. She had to stay in control, stay focused on the task at hand. “I’m not afraid of you, Dante,” she said, her voice steady.

For a moment, the intensity in his gaze flickered with something else—something deeper, more primal. “I’m not here to make you afraid, Bella. I’m here to see if you can survive in my world.”

Before she could respond, Dante’s attention shifted again, his gaze locking onto someone across the room. Isla didn’t have to follow his line of sight to know who he was looking at. The woman was unmistakable.

Elena Ricci. Dante’s intended fiancée.

Isla’s stomach tightened as she watched Elena approach, her steps graceful, her eyes glittering with purpose. There was an undeniable tension between the two women as Elena made her way to them, the air around them charged with unspoken words.

“Dante,” Elena said smoothly, her voice sweet but laced with an edge. “I see you’ve brought your little... project with you.”

Isla’s jaw clenched, but she kept her expression neutral. Elena’s words weren’t lost on her. She knew exactly what kind of game Elena was playing.

“Bella,” Dante said, his voice colder than before, “this is Elena Ricci. Elena, this is Bella Caruso.”

Isla nodded curtly, but Elena didn’t seem interested in formalities. Her gaze flickered briefly to Isla’s face, studying her with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

“Is there a reason you’re still here, Bella?” Elena’s words were almost a taunt, her tone light but clearly laced with venom. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Isla’s lips curled into a smile, but it was sharp, like the edge of a knife. “I’m just enjoying the show.”

Elena’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Isla thought she saw something dark pass over the woman’s face. “You should know your place, Bella. This isn’t the world for someone like you.”

Dante remained silent, watching the interaction with an unreadable expression, though his eyes never left Elena.

“I’m sure Bella can handle herself, Elena,” Dante said, his voice barely concealing the tension beneath it. There was something about his words that sent a chill down Isla’s spine. She had never heard him speak to anyone with such a tone before, and she wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or something else.

Elena didn’t take the bait. Instead, she shot Isla a final glance before turning away, walking off with a deliberate sway of her hips.

Isla exhaled, feeling her tension unravel in the wake of Elena’s departure. But just as she started to relax, Dante stepped in closer to her. The heat from his body radiated, and the intensity in his eyes made her heart race again.

“Tell me, Bella,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “why do you keep tempting me?”

The question hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken meaning. Isla opened her mouth to respond but found herself speechless, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. His dark gaze pinned her in place, as if he could see straight through her, see the secrets she was hiding.

She should’ve pulled away, should’ve stood her ground. But instead, she held his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the world outside of them ceased to exist.

Then, just as quickly, she regained her composure. “I’m not trying to tempt you, Dante,” she said, her voice steady, despite the turbulence inside her. “I’m here to do a job. Nothing more.”

His lips twitched into a small, dark smile. “We’ll see about that.”

Before she could respond, he turned, striding toward the exit. Isla hesitated for a moment, her heart still racing, before following him. She had a job to do, but she couldn’t deny the undeniable pull that Dante had over her.

And in this dangerous dance, she wasn’t sure who would be leading who.

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