Chapter 3 Suffocating feeling.

Chapter 3

Isabella's POV

My father's voice carried down the hallway, sharp and commanding, even before I reached the dining room. He had been on edge all day, barking orders at the staff, ensuring every corner of the house gleamed like a shrine.

When he finally summoned me, his expression was carved from stone.

"Tonight is important, Isabella," he said, his dark eyes drilling into mine. "Adrian Moretti is coming. We will be discussing business. You will be present. You will be silent. And you will look the part."

My stomach tightened. The name alone was enough to steal my breath. Adrian Moretti. The Don whispered about in the same tone as death itself.

I opened my mouth, but my father cut me off with a glare. "No arguments. Go. Dress appropriately. Elegant. Refined. You'll make a good impression."

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing my voice into a steady tone. "Why does it matter what I wear?"

"Because he is an important man," my father snapped. "And important men expect respect."

Important. That word was just another mask for dangerous.

When I turned away, my mother was waiting at the base of the stairs, her hands wringing the silk of her robe. Her eyes softened when she saw me, and she reached out as if she could take some of the weight from my shoulders.

"Come," she said gently. "I'll help you get ready."

In my room, she chose a dress from my wardrobe-a deep emerald green that clung to my figure without being indecent. The fabric shimmered under the light, elegant but strong. She smoothed the shoulders with delicate fingers, her touch lingering longer than necessary.

"You look beautiful," she whispered. "Remember, strength is in how you carry yourself. Do not let him see fear."

Her words echoed the same warning she'd given me my whole life, but tonight they felt heavier.

By the time the sound of engines rumbled outside, my heart was beating hard against my ribs. I entered Papa's office with my father at my side, my mother trailing behind us.

Twenty minutes, and he is still not here.

So here we are sitting in Papa's office waiting for the old man who obviously couldn't tell time to meet me.

"Papa...." i was cut off by a guard.

" Don Moretti is coming"

Papa instantly got up to fix himself which i scoff to.

I closed my eyes until i heard the door open.

Adrian Moretti stepped inside, the air shifting with him. He was taller than I expected, his presence filling the space like a storm. His suit was black, tailored to perfection, his dark hair slicked back. His eyes-sharp, piercing-swept the room before landing on me.

He was deadly handsome and sexy, i'd give you that, which was not what i expected.

His sculpted body allowed me to see his muscles bulging from that undershirt.

I gulped without realising it.

His facial expression serious. Not even a slight smile.

For one long, unbearable moment, he stared. Not like a man admiring a woman, but like a predator measuring prey. Cold. Possessive. Certain.

My breath caught, though I forced my chin up, refusing to shrink beneath his gaze.

Then, just as quickly, his attention flicked away, dismissing me entirely as he greeted my father.

"Giovanni," he said, his voice smooth but edged with steel. "Let's not waste time."

I stood silently, just as ordered, but every nerve in my body burned.

This was the man I was meant to marry.

And he hadn't even looked at me as if I were human.

The dining room had never felt so suffocating. The chandelier's light gleamed off the polished mahogany table, turning every crystal glass into a prism of sharp, glittering edges. My father took his place at the head, Adrian to his right. I was instructed to sit silently beside my mother, a decorative piece rather than a participant.

Dinner was served, though no one seemed interested in food. My father launched straight into business, his tone clipped, rehearsed.

"The docks are expanding," he said. "New shipments from Palermo. I'll need protection, smooth passage. In exchange, your cut will double."

Adrian leaned back in his chair, knife and fork untouched. His gaze was fixed on my father, sharp and unyielding.

"Double," he repeated softly, as though tasting the word. "That depends. You've had problems with loyalty before."

My father stiffened, his jaw tightening.

Adrian's voice dropped lower, colder. "Men who betray deserve one punishment. You know my way of handling such... inconveniences."

I tried not to shiver. Everyone in the room knew what his "way" meant. Blood. Finality.

My father chuckled awkwardly, raising his glass. "That is precisely why I need you, Moretti. You inspire fear. You command respect. With you beside me, there will be no disloyalty."

Adrian's eyes flicked to me then, briefly, as if to remind me that I, too, was part of this transaction. His stare was searing, yet empty, and I felt pinned beneath it until he turned away again.

"And in return?" Adrian asked smoothly.

My father hesitated, then set his glass down. The sound of crystal meeting wood was deafening in the silence.

"In return," he said slowly, "you'll have access to my docks. My men. My influence. And..." His eyes slid toward me, hard as stone. "My daughter."

The word landed like a blade.

Adrian didn't so much as blink. His expression remained unreadable, but I saw the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth-a wolf satisfied with his meal.

"A marriage," he murmured, as if the idea were nothing more than a ledger entry. "Efficient. Practical. Beneficial for both families."

My pulse roared in my ears. A marriage? Spoken as if I were a coin tossed into a deal?

Adrian turned to my father fully now. "I agree. But understand this-if I take her, she becomes mine. No interference. No hesitation. She will belong to me in every sense of the word."

I gasped softly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the tablecloth. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, yet the weight of his claim pressed down on me like chains.

My father only nodded, pride gleaming in his eyes. "Of course. She'll make you a fine wife."

Adrian's gaze drifted to me one last time, lingering just long enough to send a chill down my spine. There was no warmth, no affection-only calculation, as though he were already deciding how best to use me.

He looked at me once again before sighing " i will take her"

Rage overtook me.

Was I something in the store he could just take.

Dinner ended with toasts and shallow laughter, but I couldn't taste a single thing. By the time I returned to my room, my heart felt hollow.

I had been traded away.

And Adrian Moretti had accepted without hesitation