Blood and Desire

10. Isabella Romano

The night felt endless. The old clock on the wall read almost midnight, and still my eyes refused to close. With every tick my heart seemed to quicken, as if it knew something was about to happen.

I lay on the soft sheets, but there was no comfort there. The thin nightgown clung to my skin like a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. The silk rubbed against my bare thighs, cold and damp with the sweat of my nerves. I hadn’t changed — wouldn’t have time if the chance came — and now, more than ever, I needed to be ready.

I lifted my eyes to the high window. Through the sheer curtains I saw movement in the mansion’s courtyard. Cars had left a short while ago, all in a line, led by the black vehicle where Dante usually sat. But something drew my attention: only two had returned. His car was not among them.

My chance.

My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I feared the guards in the hall might hear. I rose slowly, bare feet on the cold floor, and crept to the door. The house was nearly silent. I gripped the knob carefully and turned it. Locked.

I exhaled in frustration and bit my lip to keep from swearing out loud. Of course it was locked. Dante would never leave such obvious gaps. Still — I had to try.

I moved to the window. The glass was thick, flawless. The bars outside were no ordinary iron; they were thin, sophisticated, and strong, made to keep out even the narrowest blade. I pushed, pulled, searched for any give. Nothing.

Despair began to sag my shoulders. I couldn’t stay here, at his mercy. I needed to get out.

Then an idea came: bobby pins. Maybe I could pick the lock. My nimble fingers began rifling the dressing table for anything useful. I opened drawers, pushed aside boxes, tipped perfume bottles. Everything made noise, as if the silence itself announced each movement.

While I rummaged, something caught my eye — a small irregularity in the wall behind the dressing table. I frowned. That wasn’t right. I dragged the piece of furniture aside with effort, my feet slipping on the smooth floor, and there it was: a faintly marked rectangle, almost invisible.

My breath hitched.

A door.

My fingers trembled as I found the edge and pressed. The mechanism yielded with a muffled click, and the wall opened to reveal a narrow, dark passage. A smell of old wood and dust filled my nose, but I didn’t care. It was an exit. It was hope.

I stepped in, then another, my heart pounding. The passage was swallowed by shadows, and with every step the air grew colder, denser. It felt like crossing through a secret inside the mansion itself — something only a handful knew.

At the end of the corridor, two doors.

My whole body went taut. My sweaty hands slipped on the handle of the first door. I hesitated, listening beyond the hush. Nothing. I was about to turn when the other door — the one on the right — creaked open on its own.

My eyes flew wide.

He was there.

Dante filled the space like an inevitable shadow. The dark coat draped over his broad shoulders, his shirt half open to reveal the tan of his chest. His scent — leather, tobacco, and something uniquely his — invaded the narrow passage, suffocating.

My body froze.

“Isabella…” His voice was low, drawn out, threaded with surprise and irony. “I should have known.”

I tried to step back, but my feet found the cold wall. He advanced — one slow, measured step after another — like a predator cornering prey. His shadow swallowed me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, a dangerous smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“I… I…” My voice failed. I wanted to say I was only exploring, that it meant nothing. The lie would have died on my tongue; he would know anyway. He always knew.

His eyes traveled down my body, stopping at the hem of the short nightgown that barely covered my thighs. His breath changed, heavier. My stomach turned with fear, but at the same time a strange heat spread beneath my skin.

“No underwear…” he murmured, as if it were a private discovery. His large fingers brushed my thigh, slow and deliberate. A shiver ran through me. “You tempt me even when you don’t realize it.”

“It’s not ” I whispered.

His dark eyes pinned me, and for an instant I didn’t see the cruel mafioso; I saw a man burning with desire and control. His thumb traced slow circles on my skin, rising dangerously toward my hip. My body reacted before I could stop it. Damn it.

“Do you have any idea what would have happened if you’d made it out?” His voice was at my ear now, warm, deep, consuming. “You wouldn’t survive a night out there.”

I wanted to say I’d rather risk death than live caged — but my throat closed when his hand slid further, touching me where I was most exposed. I gasped, unable to stop it.

“Dante…” It was all I could whisper — part fear, part something that burned inside me.

He pressed his body against mine, pinning me between the wall and him. Heat from him seared through the thin fabric of my gown. The tip of his nose brushed my neck and I shuddered.

“You’re mine, Isabella.” The whisper was possessive, devastating. “Not even these walls can hide you from me.”

His hand moved again, exploring, teasing, drawing from me a low moan I tried to smother with my teeth. Shame and arousal braided into one until I couldn’t tell them apart.

But before it went further, he stopped — like he’d decided I’d been given enough. He withdrew his hand slowly, eyes fixed on my face as if savoring every second of my confusion.

“Not yet, Isabella.” His tone was thick with promise and threat at once.

Then he grabbed my arm and tugged, guiding me back down the secret corridor toward the bedroom. He opened the door, pushed me gently inside, and closed it behind us.

“Don’t try this again.” His voice echoed in the hush, firm, final. “Next time, I won’t be so patient.”

And with that he left, leaving me trembling, my body aflame and my heart in pieces.

I lay back on the bed, gasping, staring at the ceiling. My attempt at escape had ended before it even began. But what haunted me more than the failure was the memory of his touch, still burning on my skin, as if I’d been marked.

In that moment I realized how lost I truly was.