Isabella overslept the next morning. Her head was pounding after the night spent with Dante in her roin. She washed her face hastily and dressed in a simple dress. Sofia was still sleeping when she went to check on her, and Isabella decided not to wake her.

She went downstairs and found Bianca in the kitchen, helping one of the servants to carry baskets of vegetables.

"Do you need any help?" Isabella asked.

Bianca shook her head, smiling faintly. "No, thank you. You should sit down and eat. Breakfast is ready."

"I'm not hungry," Isabella said, even as her stomach growled.

Bianca laughed softly. "Your stomach doesn't agree with you. Come, eat something before Dante discovers you didn't.".

Isabella sighed and sat at the small table. Bread, eggs, and fruit were served by a maid. She ate the breakfast slowly.

"Is it always so quiet in the mornings?" Isabella said.

"Mostly," Bianca said. "Unless Giulia comes home. Then it is never quiet."

"Where is she?" Isabella said.

"She's with friends in Milan. She'll be back next week.".

Isabella nodded. She had no idea why she was curious, but something about her had to know more about the individuals in this house. It made her feel less like a prisoner.

Isabella went back to her room after breakfast. She sat by the window, looking out at the garden. The longer she stayed in the mansion, the more suffocated she felt. She longed to go see Elena, her best friend, but Dante had made it explicit that she could not go out.

By the afternoon, she could not bear it anymore. She left her room, descended the stairs, and found one of the guards standing by the front door.

"I need some air," she said to him.

The guard shook his head. "I'm sorry, signorina. Mr. Dante left instructions that you are not to leave the grounds."

"I'm not asking to leave for good," Isabella said in frustration. "I just want to go visit my friend. It's not dangerous."

He looked anxious. "I cannot allow that."

Isabella crossed her arms. "Suit yourself. Then don't watch."

The guard had no opportunity to prevent her before she pushed past him and walked quickly out the door. She heard him yelling after her, but she didn't look back. She walked down the street until she flagged down a taxi and gave Elena's address.

Elena's eyes went wide when she opened the door. "Isabella? What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," Isabella said, hugging her tightly.

"You look tired," Elena said, pulling her in. "What's going on? Is Dante treating you badly?"

Isabella fell onto the couch, shaking her head. "It's complicated. He's… controlling. He thinks I'm his. But Sofia is safe because of him. I don't know how to feel."

Elena sat beside her. "You don't owe him anything. You didn't ask for this."

"I know," Isabella replied quietly. "But sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating when he's around."

Elena scowled. "That's not love, Bella. That's fear."

Isabella turned away, her chest constricted. "Perhaps both."

They chatted for a bit about nothing in particular—Elena's work, her neighbors, frivolous gossip that had nothing to do with mafia or peril. For the first time in weeks, Isabella laughed. She hadn't known how much she needed this.

But her respite was brief. An hour later, there were loud knocks at the front door. Elena stood up at once, worried. Isabella froze. The door opened and two of Dante's men appeared.

"Miss Romano," one of them said firmly. "You have to come with us."

Isabella's heart sank. "No. Please. Just give me more time."

"Now," said the man.

Elena tried to step forward. "She's safe here. Let her stay."

The man nodded. "Mr. Dante's orders."

Isabella hugged Elena briefly. "I'll phone you when I'm able."

She was led out and put into a black car. The ride home seemed to take an eternity. The men were quiet. Isabella's hands clenched in her lap. Her stomach churned. She knew Dante would be furious.

As the car pulled up to the mansion, Dante was already outside. He had his arms crossed, his face unreadable. The men opened her door, and Isabella got out.

"Inside," Dante commanded curtly.

She went first, her steps slow. When they were alone in the foyer, he turned on her. His voice was razor-sharp. "What were you thinking?"

"I needed to see my friend," Isabella said. "I'm not your prisoner."

His eyes narrowed. "You are to be my wife. That makes you my responsibility. You don't just take off without telling me."

"I told your guard," Isabella said, her voice rising. "He attempted to hold me up. I went anyway. I'm not a child."

Dante's jaw clenched, he shot the guard a dirty look who immediately looked away. Before Isabella could speak, he drew his gun and executed the man.

Isabella screamed, watching as the man collapsed.

"That's on you, Belle. "You're careless. If Adrian's men spotted you, they would have snatched you like they did your sister."

"Don't drag Sofia into this," Isabella shot back, her own eyes shocked wide as she stared at the body. "Do you think you're the only one worried about her? Do you think I don't know the risks? My father tried to use me as a pawn, and now you're trying to do the same. You're just his puppet."

With a nod, the other guards took the body away.

The words hit him, and his eyes darkened. He stepped nearer, towering over her. "Careful, Isabella."

"No," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "You don't own me. You just killed your men because of some foolish claim on me. You can order your men around, but you can't order me."

His hand shot out and grasped her face, forcing her to look up at him. His grip was firm but not painful. "Look at me when you speak and I'll kill many more if you disobey me."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She tried to pull away, but his grasp didn't waver.

"You don't understand," Dante whispered, his voice low. "If you step outside without me, you're risking your life. And I'm not going to lose you. Not to Adrian. Not to anyone."

Her mouth opened, words stuck in her throat. Their faces were inches apart, too close. The space between them grew tense. His eyes locked with hers, then slid to her lips.

"Dante." she whispered.

He leaned in so that his mouth almost brushed against hers. His breath was warm on her skin. "If you ever disobey me again," he growled softly, "I'll make you experience what it is like being the wife of Il Diavolo."

Her heart pounding, his lips brushed against hers, not quite a kiss, enough to chill her body. Then he let her go and stepped back, leaving her standing there breathless and shaking.