The Devil's Bride.

The next morning was quiet in the De Luca mansion. Isabella sat by Sofia's bed, watching her sister sleep. Sofia looked pale, her hair spread across the pillow. The last few days had taken so much from her. Isabella brushed her sister's hand softly.

"You're safe now," Isabella whispered. "I won't let anything happen to you again."

The door opened. Giulia stepped inside with a tray of food. "The doctor said she needs to eat when she wakes up."

"Thank you," Isabella said.

Giulia placed the tray down and looked at her. "Dante told me to tell you breakfast is in the dining hall. He wants you there."

Isabella's stomach tightened. She didn't want to see him after last night. "I'll come later."

Giulia shook her head. "You know he won't like that."

Isabella let out a small sigh. She leaned down and kissed Sofia's forehead before leaving the room. Her steps were heavy as she walked to the dining hall.

The long table was filled with food. Marco sat near the head, talking with two men Isabella didn't know. Dante sat at the end, calm as always. His eyes lifted the moment she entered, watching her closely.

"Sit," Dante said.

Isabella pulled out a chair far from him and sat down. One of the men, older and dressed in a dark suit, glanced at her and smirked.

"So this is the bride," the man said. "She looks softer than I expected."

Isabella looked down, trying to ignore him. Dante's eyes shifted at once.

"Careful," Dante said, his voice low but sharp. "You speak once more, and you won't leave this table."

The man laughed nervously. "I was only joking."

Dante slammed his glass down, making the table shake. "Does it look like I'm laughing?"

The room went silent. The man swallowed and nodded quickly. "No. Forgive me."

Isabella's cheeks warmed. She hated being the reason for the scene, but part of her felt a strange relief at the way Dante had shut him down.

Dinner moved on quietly. Isabella picked at her food. She could feel Dante's eyes on her often, but she refused to look up. When the meal ended, the guests left quickly. Marco walked out after them, leaving only Isabella and Dante at the table.

"You didn't eat," Dante said.

"I wasn't hungry," Isabella replied.

"You should eat," he said again, his tone more like an order.

"I'll eat later."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't push further. He stood and moved toward her. Isabella rose quickly, planning to leave, but his hand caught her arm. She froze and looked up at him.

"Let go," she said.

He leaned down slightly. "You're mine in every way. Don't forget that."

Her pulse quickened. "I don't belong to you. I'm here because I had no choice."

"You'll see soon enough," he said, his voice calm but firm.

She pulled her arm free and walked out quickly, her mind racing. Back in her room, she sat by the window, staring out at the gardens. Hours passed before she finally tried to sleep.

She was half-asleep when there was a knock at the door. She sat up, unsure if she should answer. The door opened slowly, and Dante stepped inside. He closed it behind him, his eyes fixed on her.

"Why are you here?" Isabella asked, clutching the blanket to her chest.

He walked closer, not rushing. "Because you've been avoiding me all day."

"I don't want to see you," she said quickly.

"You don't get to decide that." He stopped at the side of her bed. "You can run from me during the day, Isabella. But at night, you can't hide."

Her breath caught. "Stay away from me."

"You don't mean that." He reached down and took her hand, pulling it free from the blanket. His fingers brushed against hers, making her shiver.

"Dante..." she said, her voice unsteady.

He leaned in, his hand lifting to her cheek, thumb brushing her skin. "I could take you right now. You want me to."

She shook her head quickly. "No. I don't."

He leaned closer, his lips almost touching hers. Her body froze, caught between fear and something else she didn't want to admit. His other hand rested on her waist, holding her in place.

Their lips brushed for just a second before Isabella pulled back, her hand pushing against his chest. "Stop. I don't want this."

For a moment, silence filled the room. Dante's eyes stayed on her, dark and unreadable. Then, slowly, a smirk spread on his lips.

"You can run from me in this house, Isabella," he said quietly. "But you'll never escape me."

Before she could answer, he leaned down and kissed her. It was not gentle. His mouth pressed against hers, stealing her breath. She pushed at him, but his grip held firm for a moment longer before he finally let go.

He stepped back, his smirk still there. Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving her shaken and breathless.

Isabella touched her lips with her fingers, her heart racing. She didn't know if she hated him or hated herself more for the way she had almost kissed him back.