Crimson Vow’s

The Invite

Today is Monday .Bringing with it the familiar bustle day vibe, Isabella drives herself to work lost in thoughts about how to start the beginning processes of the renovation and also on the most recent art a client has requested for. The inspiration behind the painting is a vibrant, large-scale piece ; a riot of sun-kissed yellows, optimistic oranges, and greens, all shooting outwards from a central burst of cerulean blue. “ I will call it Dawn’s embrace.” She said to herself .

“For the renovation I might just clear my drawing room for a start so I would have enough space to work.”

Arriving at the gallery she felt a thirst pang pull her away from her thoughts . Walking over to the water dispenser in the quiet corner of the gallery, the gentle hum of the building her only company, she bent to fill her glass.

“These silly asses,” she cursed.”I think I would have to fire Dicta and Muse because I don’t understand why I would be at work before them .”

A sudden movement registered in her vision. A shadow, larger than her own, stretched behind her. The hair at the back of her neck stood and cold shivers ran down her spine.Turning around she sees a figure stood there, in the dark, a plain black mask covering their face. A shriek tore from Isabella’s throat and she quickly reached out for the heavy canva board close to the dispenser .

Before she could utter another sound, the figure was instantly in front of her, a gloved hand clamping firmly over her mouth, muffling her scream.

Her mind raced, and her vision blurred at the same time many thoughts ran through her head. Was this a robbery? Who would dare?

But then In a swift practical motion , the figure's other hand reached up and peeled away the mask.

Isabella's eyes widened in disbelief, her body momentarily frozen.

“Alessandro!!!!.” “What the fuck.”

No bodyguards, no entourage, just him, standing there in her gallery, his dark eyes fixed on hers.

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, his gaze unwavering. "Isabella," he murmured, his voice a low, almost intimate rumble in the hushed space.

"Alessandro ?" she finally managed to say, her voice a strained whisper. "What... what are you doing here? And alone?"

He took a small step back, though they were still remarkably close. The air between them was tensedNow that she could breath freely , the scent of his cologne filled her nose.

They held each other's gaze for another long moment, before she pulled herself back the more moving a reasonable distance from him.

He shrugged, a fleeting, almost boyish gesture. "I just wanted to see you. And... to peep some arts." A faint, smile touched his lips. "I couldn't risk anyone seeing me walking in here bare-faced, alone. They'd think I've lost my touch. But I really... I wanted to see you."

The admission , made her on guard the more. “ He wanted to see her.” The words echoed her friends' warnings.

"Oh," she said, lamely. "Well. Would you like to sit? I could make some coffee."

He shook his head, his eyes already drifting past her. "No need." He then turned, walking slowly towards a new painting she hanged the day before.

Isabella was watching him with a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity . She slowly but steadily walked to the coffee machine and made some.Few minutes and she was done. She approached him with the steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“Thank you,” he said.”I told you not to bother though.”She snorted.

“Just take it, “she relied.Trying to sound arrogant.

Holding out the mug to him, he took it, his fingers brushing hers for a moment.

They stood side-by-side, both gazing at the painting.

"This looks colorful," he finally murmured, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it.

Isabella offered him a small, genuine smile.

"I've always... I've always wanted my world to look like this," he confessed, the words almost a whisper. "Full of light. Full of new beginnings. But one can not decide their fate sometimes. Sometimes, fate decides for you."

Isabella turned to look at him, a wave of unexpected compassion washing over her. In that moment,he was looking vulnerable to her.

As if sensing her empathy, Alessandro’s expression hardened immediately . The softness vanished, replaced by the familiar mask of controlled power. He gave a slight shrug, pushing away the momentary weakness. "Would you come with me for dinner, Isabella?"

He was watching her, his dark eyes could spot the indecision on her face. “Why am I even asking, he continued , I am taking you to dinner, Isabella," he stated, his voice a low, unwavering command that left no room for argument. "I'm not asking."

He was now walking towards the gallery entrance.

Just as he reached the door, he stopped turning back to face her.

"You'll get a package in an hour," he said, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur. His eyes twinkled as he lightly tapped his temple, then pointed two fingers from his eyes to hers. "I've taken your size."

With a final nod, he turned and was gone, leaving Isabella standing amidst her vibrant art, utterly speechless.

A hot blush spread across her cheeks. “Oh my God , what is wrong with me?”

“Why didn’t I say no or even challenged him?”

She really hated this part of her. She knew she should resist, should be rational, but right now, all she could think was how incredibly hot that man looked, and the utterly thrilling, confusing things he did to her senses.