CHAPTER FOUR

The moonlight slanted through the tall windows of the Thornton mansion, casting long, eerie shadows on the polished floors. Inside, Isabella stood near the grand fireplace, her back rigid with tension. Her hands twisted nervously, the delicate lace of her sleeves pulling at her fingertips as her mind raced. Matteo’s words echoed in her ears, and though her body was still trembling from the proximity of his touch, her thoughts couldn’t seem to focus on anything but him.

He’s right. She could almost feel it, deep in her chest. She was drawn to him, no matter how much she hated herself for it.

But she was weak. She had always been weak. Weak in the eyes of her father, weak in the eyes of her peers. And now, weak in front of him. She had no choice but to admit it. Matteo DiCarlo wasn’t just a mafia lord; he was a force that had come to claim what was his—and whether she liked it or not, she was part of that claim.

She pulled her eyes from the flickering fire and stared at the door. For a moment, she expected him to return. But he didn’t. Silence settled like a thick fog in the room.

It was then that the sound of heels clicking on the marble floor reached her ears. She looked up, startled, to see a woman entering the room. She was tall, graceful, and had an air of confidence that Isabella couldn’t help but envy.

She had been expecting someone, but not her.

“Miss Thornton, I presume?” The woman’s voice was smooth, silky, with just a hint of amusement. She looked at Isabella with an appraising eye, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach her cold eyes.

Isabella stiffened. “Who are you?”

The woman extended a hand, her nails painted a perfect shade of red. “I’m Lia. I work for Mr. DiCarlo.” She didn’t wait for Isabella to offer her hand. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe with a casualness that made Isabella uneasy.

“DiCarlo?” Isabella repeated, her heart thumping. Her throat was suddenly dry.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Lia said with a laugh. “He’s a man of many interests. And while he’s occupied with other matters, I’m here to... make sure everything goes according to plan.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, ‘make sure’?”

Lia pushed herself off the doorframe and walked into the room, her heels tapping sharply against the floor. “Oh, just the usual,” she said airily. “Make sure you’re not causing any trouble. You know—stay in line. It’ll make things easier for everyone.” She winked at Isabella, as if offering some secret joke that Isabella didn’t understand.

Isabella couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Matteo had sent this woman to watch over her?

“Are you... here to... babysit me?” Isabella’s voice was shaky, but there was a touch of defiance behind it.

Lia raised an eyebrow. “If that’s how you want to think of it. I’m here to make sure you don’t make any rash decisions.” She walked closer, her eyes scanning Isabella from head to toe. “You’ve already made one by getting involved with Matteo.”

Isabella’s heart stuttered. “I haven’t made any decisions.”

Lia’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “You’re wrong, darling. You already made the decision the moment you let him touch you.”

Isabella flushed, the memory of Matteo’s hand on her neck flooding her senses. She was still angry at herself for letting him get that close, for feeling anything at all. But deep down, there was a spark of excitement she couldn’t extinguish, a hunger that gnawed at her.

“I don’t want anything from him,” Isabella said quickly, even though she wasn’t sure she believed her own words.

Lia let out a sharp laugh. “Then why do you look like you’re about to combust? It’s written all over you.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “You think he won’t notice that, don’t you? He’s no fool.”

Isabella took a step back, swallowing hard. “You’re wrong,” she whispered, more to herself than to Lia.

The older woman stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with something dark. “You’re his now, whether you like it or not. He’ll break you, little by little, until there’s nothing left but his will.” Lia’s voice softened for a second, but her eyes remained cold and calculating. “And when he does, you’ll wish you had never crossed him.”

Isabella’s breath caught in her throat. Her palms were clammy, her chest tight with the weight of Lia’s words. She didn’t want to admit it, but a part of her feared the exact thing Lia was describing. Matteo had power over her. His presence was like a magnet, drawing her in, making her feel alive in a way she’d never felt before. And that terrified her.

Lia took one last look at her, as though sizing her up, before stepping toward the door. “I’ll be watching,” she said with a smirk. “Stay out of trouble, Isabella.”

As the door clicked shut behind Lia, Isabella slumped against the wall, her mind a swirling storm of confusion. Was Lia right? Was Matteo truly capable of breaking her? She didn’t know what to think anymore. He had already begun to chip away at her walls, testing her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. The line between fear and desire was growing ever thinner, and she didn’t know how long she could keep herself from crossing it.

---

The next morning, Isabella found herself pacing the length of her room. Her mind kept returning to Matteo, and the way he had left her the night before. He had been so close, so commanding, yet he hadn’t taken what he wanted. And now she was left to wonder why.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She froze, her heart pounding, before she reluctantly crossed the room to answer.

When she opened the door, she wasn’t surprised to find Lia standing there, a smirk on her face as she leaned casually against the frame.

“Good morning, Miss Thornton,” Lia said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I hope you’re well rested.”

Isabella didn’t respond. She didn’t have the energy to engage in more of Lia’s games.

“DiCarlo wants to see you,” Lia continued, her eyes glinting with something malicious. “Come. He’s waiting.”

A chill ran down Isabella’s spine. She didn’t know why, but the thought of seeing him again—of facing him after everything that had happened between them—made her stomach turn with nerves.

But she couldn’t avoid it. She couldn’t hide forever.

---

When they reached the grand study, the door opened to reveal Matteo standing by the massive desk, his back to her. His broad shoulders were tense, and the cold air of authority that surrounded him made Isabella hesitate before stepping inside.

Without turning, he spoke. “I’ve been waiting, Isabella.”

Her heart skipped, but she stood her ground. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” she replied, her voice steady, though the weight of his gaze made her feel like a pawn on a chessboard.

Matteo turned to face her, his eyes scanning her as if he were looking for something hidden beneath the surface. “You’re still pretending you don’t want this,” he said softly, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his voice. “But I can see it in your eyes. You can’t fool me.”

The air between them thickened, the tension palpable. Isabella tried to maintain her composure, but it was becoming harder by the second. Matteo moved toward her slowly, his steps deliberate. His presence consumed the room, and all she could do was watch him, her heart racing in anticipation of what would come next.

---

The power dynamics between them continued to shift, pushing Isabella to the edge of something she wasn’t sure she was ready to face. Matteo’s dominance was overwhelming, but there was something about him that kept pulling her in. She didn’t know if it was his strength or her own growing weakness, but she couldn’t deny that she was in deeper than she ever imagined.