Morning came too early. Isabella woke up drained, her head still spinning from the fight with Dante. She ran her fingers over her lips, remembering how he almost kissed her. It left her on high alert. She turned over and pulled herself out of bed.

Sofia was awake when Isabella opened her door. She was sitting up in bed with pillows behind her, a blanket wrapped around her.

"You look white," Isabella said, sitting down. "Do you hurt?"

Sofia shook her head. "I'm fine. But Bella… I heard the screaming last night."

Isabella sat beside her. "You don't have to worry about me. Just try to recover."

Sofia grabbed her hand tightly. "You don't have to marry him. We can go. We can run away.".

Where?" Sofia asked softly. "We have no protection, no funds. Father will not help us. And Adrian remains at large. Do you want to risk being kidnapped once more?"

Sofia's eyes filled with tears. "No… but I don't want you tied to him either."

Isabella hugged Sofia tightly. "It's already arranged. The wedding is tomorrow."

Sofia breathed softly, "Please, Bella. Don't do it.".

Isabella didn't say a word. One part of her wanted to give in, but another part of her—the part that remembered Dante's eyes and the gentle touch of his hand on her face—held firm.

---

The mansion was a whirl downstairs. Workers came and went, carrying flowers, cloth, and boxes. Giulia was arguing with one of the decorators about the ribbon color.

"No, no, Dante told me white, not cream," Giulia said, gesturing.

The man tried to explain, but Isabella edged past unobserved. She didn't wish to be involved in wedding preparations.

Inside the kitchen, Bianca was tasting a sauce from a pot. She noticed Isabella and smiled. "Come here, dear. Taste it and tell me what you think."

Isabella tasted the spoonful of sauce Bianca offered. "It's nice. A bit salty."

Bianca nodded. "I said that to him," she informed the cook. Then she looked back at Isabella. "Are you nervous?"

Isabella's forked smile gave her away. "A little."

"Every bride is," Bianca said soothingly. "You'll be fine."

Isabella had a desire to ask if Bianca had liked Dante's father when she wedded him, but she held it in. It felt too personal. She excused herself and departed from the kitchen.

Isabella then went out into the garden to have some fresh air. She spotted Marco sitting at a table, and he was smoking a cigar.

"You're hard to read," Marco said when he noticed her standing there.

"I wasn't trying to be read," Isabella said, hugging herself.

Marco chuckled. "You are stronger than you think. Most girls would be crying every day if they were in your shoes. But you keep going."

Isabella was not sure if it was a compliment or a warning, so she said nothing.

---

That evening, Isabella stayed in her room. She brushed her hair slowly, looking in front of the mirror. The wedding dress was already hanging in the corner. Just looking at it made her stomach twist.

A knock came. "Come in," she said.

Dante walked in. He had a black shirt on, his jacket draped over his shoulder. He looked casual, but his eyes were fixed on her with that intense look she was used to.

"Tomorrow," he said. "It will all be different."

Isabella sat back against the mirror. "You sound like I have a choice to make."

"You do," Dante replied. "But if you want to end up dead, or worse, then perhaps you should reconsider.".

She stood up and faced him. "Why do you want this marriage so badly? Is it just business? Power?"

Dante took a step closer until he stood just a step away. "I don't repeat myself, Isabella. You're mine. That's all that counts."

Her throat closed up. She ached to protest, but she couldn't articulate.

"Come with me," he said, extending his hand.

She didn't move. "Where?"

"Balcony," he said.

---

She followed behind him down the hall and out onto the wide stone balcony that looked over the city. The cool night air was invigorating. The city lights stretched out below them, shining softly in the distance.

Dante stood with his arm braced on the railing, pulling her toward him until his arm was around her waist.

"Do you see that?" he said, his finger pointing toward the city. "All of them see us. They'll know tomorrow that you belong to me.".

Isabella swallowed. "And if I say I don't want that?"

His grip grew tighter. "It won't matter. Once you share my name, there's no turning back."

She pressed her face into his chest. "You're speaking of a prison."

He leaned forward, his fingers turning her chin up. "A prison imprisons. I'm shielding you."

"You killed your own man," Isabella spat. "That is not protection. That is control."

His gaze turned black, but he did not lash out. Instead, he slowly exhaled. "You will see one day. I do not insure many people, Isabella. You. you are different."

Her lungs expanded and contracted at a frantic pace. She wasn't sure if she wanted to retreat or step forward.

"You scare me," she breathed.

"Yet you look at me like that," Dante spoke, his mouth curling into a small smile.

Her heart beat rapidly. She hated that he was right. She hated that her body betrayed her.

They stood there for a moment too long in silence. The sounds of the city drifted weakly upwards towards them.

Finally, Dante leaned in. His lips brushed against hers, hard and demanding, sealing his claim without asking permission. Isabella’s body stiffened at first, but then her hands pressed against his chest, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was low and certain. “Now you’re mine, Isabella. Tomorrow just makes it official.”

Isabella's legs weakened, her breathing unsteady. She said nothing, but the look on her face gave away her confusion, fear, and the attraction that she couldn't resist.