CHAPTER FIVE
1178 Words
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Monte Falco Resort – That Night
“There you are,” he said. “I was just looking for you.”
Isla forced a smile, her stomach still in knots from what she had overheard.
“We should talk,” Dante continued, stepping closer. His tone was casual, but there was something sharp behind his smile—something she couldn’t place anymore. “There’s something I want to ask you.”
Her heart pounded. The voices still echoed in her head—She’s falling hard… You’ve got her wrapped… Told you I would.
And yet, here he was. Smiling. Reaching for her hand like nothing had changed.
“What is it?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Not here.” He glanced around the hallway, then leaned in, his breath warm on her ear. “It’s personal. Let’s talk in my room.”
Every warning bell in her body went off at once. But he was Dante Creed—polished, smooth, and for days now, kind. Gentle. Charming.
Maybe she had misunderstood the conversation. Maybe it wasn’t about her. Maybe this was her paranoia playing tricks on her.
“Okay,” she whispered.
He grinned, his hand tightening around hers just slightly as he led her toward the private suite wing. His touch sent a familiar flutter through her chest, but this time, it was tainted by unease.
Dante’s room was on the top floor. Penthouse suite. Exclusive. Soundproof. A place where guests could indulge in absolute privacy.
When they stepped in, everything smelled like expensive cologne and fresh linen. The marble floors gleamed under soft lights. The glass balcony doors were open, the sound of the ocean rolling in like a lullaby.
“Nice place,” Isla said softly, taking in the sprawling suite.
“I like privacy,” Dante replied, pouring himself a drink. “You want something?”
“No, I’m good.”
He handed her a glass of water instead, which she accepted but didn’t drink. Her fingers tightened around the cool glass as she watched him.
“So…” she started, her voice a whisper. “What did you want to talk about?”
Dante looked at her over the rim of his glass, his eyes unreadable. He took a slow sip, then set the drink down.
“You,” he said simply.
Isla swallowed. “Me?”
“You’ve been on my mind.” He took a step closer. “Since the moment I saw you. You’ve got this fire in your eyes. This… softness. And I meant what I said—I haven’t met anyone like you here.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch made her flinch slightly, but she forced herself to smile.
“That’s sweet of you.”
He tilted his head. “You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know what to believe,” she admitted. “I guess I’ve just never had someone like you pay attention to me like this.”
“Someone like me?”
“Rich. Powerful. Confident.”
Dante chuckled and stepped even closer. “And yet, here I am. Standing in front of you. Wanting more than just a drink or a smile.”
Isla bit her lip. Her stomach twisted again, not from butterflies—but from the creeping anxiety she tried to smother.
“Dante, I—”
He leaned in suddenly, cutting off her words with a kiss. Soft at first, but then firmer, hungrier. She stiffened.
He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching hers. “You okay?”
She hesitated.
This was the man who had made her laugh, who had asked about her dreams. Who had tucked a flower behind her ear.
He wouldn’t hurt me… right?
“Yeah,” she whispered, forcing a nod.
Dante smiled, drawing her back in. His hands slid down her back, guiding her gently toward the bedroom.
She followed, caught somewhere between desire and dread.
The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of the city lights through the sheer curtains. He sat her on the edge of the bed, brushing her cheek with his thumb.
“You’re beautiful,” he said again. “So damn beautiful.”
She felt her skin crawl. Something was off.
Before she could say anything, the door clicked open.
Two more men walked in.
Julian. Knox.
Her body went rigid.
“What’s going on?” she asked, standing up quickly.
Dante raised a brow. “Relax. They’re friends.”
“I—I thought we were going to talk…”
“We are,” Julian said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Knox locked the door behind him.
Panic surged up Isla’s throat. She stepped back. “No. I want to leave.”
Dante grabbed her wrist—not hard, but firm. “Isla. You’re not going anywhere. Not yet.”
Her breath caught. “Let me go.”
He shook his head slowly, almost sadly. “You really thought this was fate?”
Her heart shattered.
Julian laughed softly. “Told you she’d be easy.”
“Just a little sugar and charm,” Knox added. “Works every time.”
Tears pricked her eyes as she yanked her arm, trying to break free. “Stop. Please—don’t do this.”
But Dante’s face had gone cold.
“Didn’t you hear them earlier?” he said. “You’re wrapped, Isla. And now… I’m collecting my win.”
She screamed.
But no one heard.
No one came.
The music from the resort echoed faintly through the balcony. The laughter of guests, the soft clinking of champagne flutes.
But inside the penthouse…
There was only pain.
And darkness.
And three men who took everything from her.
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Hours later, she lay still. Silent. Broken.
She didn’t remember when the screaming had stopped. Didn’t remember when the tears dried.
All she remembered was the cold marble beneath her cheek when they left her there. Naked. Humiliated. Alone.
Her body ached in places she didn’t know could hurt. Her soul felt like it had been scraped raw.
The room was quiet now. Too quiet.
Somewhere outside, the waves crashed against the shore. The world moved on.
But inside Isla…
Everything had stopped.
She blinked slowly. Her vision was blurry. Her lips cracked.
Her dress was in tatters on the floor. Her shoes gone. Her heart… shattered.
She wanted to scream.
But nothing came out.
Only silence.
And in that silence, something inside her shifted.
She had trusted him. She had let herself believe.
And he had destroyed her.
They all had.
As the first rays of dawn crept through the windows, Isla reached for the edge of the bed and pulled herself up.
Her legs shook. Her arms trembled.
But she stood.
Somehow, she stood.
Because if this was her rock bottom…
She was going to claw her way out of it.
No matter what.
And next time she saw Dante Creed…
He would regret ever touching her.
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- Writer
