The day after the boat ride, Isabella barely saw Fernando
The estate was unusually quiet, as if it were holding its breath. The staff, who barely spoke to her before, now nodded respectfully when she passed. But their eyes lingered too long. As though they knew something she didn't.
She didn't like it.
She explored the hallways, each turn revealing something lavish—paintings of faceless women in gold frames, ancient marble statues with cracks like scars, chandeliers that looked like frozen stars. But something about the beauty felt… hollow.
Every door she tried was locked.
Except one.
A small library tucked away behind velvet curtains. It wasn't grand, not like the rest of the mansion, but it was warm. Real. There were handwritten notes in the margins of the books. A coffee cup with old stains. A worn leather chair with a faint scent of spice and musk.
His scent.
She ran her fingers along the spines of the books. Most were fiction. War. Philosophy. A few dark thrillers. She stopped at one with a frayed black cover. Inside was a name scribbled in sharp ink:
*F.Rossi, Age 17.*
It struck her harder than she expected.
Fernando had once been a boy—just a boy—curled up in this very chair, escaping into someone else's story. She tried to imagine it. He felt so untouchable now, so controlled. But he'd lived here all his life. And maybe, somewhere beneath all that power, he still felt trapped too.
Her thumb slid across a passage underlined in red.
*"To survive in a world of wolves, you must first learn to bare your own teeth."*
She closed the book.
***
Later, in the grand dining hall, Isabella sat alone.
Dinner was prepared, but Fernando hadn't shown. The silence was heavy. Not a single fork clinked. Not a single footstep echoed. She felt like a ghost in a palace meant for kings.
Finally, the doors opened.
But it wasn't Fernando
It was a woman.
Tall. Impossibly elegant. Dark red lips. Cold eyes that scanned Isabella like a threat.
"Ah," the woman said, voice smooth like poisoned wine. "So you're the girl."
"Excuse me?" Isabella blinked.
"I'm Marcella. I run things while Fernando handles… heavier matters."
Isabella straightened. "You mean while he plays king."
Marcella smirked. "Careful, ragazza. Kings don't always wear crowns. And they don't play."
She circled Isabella slowly, like a wolf sniffing a new pup. "You've caused quite a stir. The staff is talking. The men are watching. They all want to know the same thing."
"What's that?"
"Why Fernando Rossi would bring *you* here."
The words landed like ice water.
Isabella clenched her fists. "Maybe you should ask him."
"Oh, I did. But he didn't say much. Just looked at me with that look." She paused. "The same look he gives no one. Ever."
Marcella leaned in, too close.
"Don't mistake kindness for safety, dear. Fernando may touch you softly now, but he was born in blood. And men like him only let their guard down once. If you break him…"
She ran a red fingernail along the edge of Isabella's plate.
"…he'll burn the world and rebuild it in your ashes."
Then, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, she turned and walked out, leaving a silence more deafening than before.
***
Isabella didn't eat.
That night, she returned to the library. This time, she brought the book.
Fernando found her there, hours later.
He leaned in the doorway, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. "I wondered where you'd gone."
She held up the book. "You were seventeen when you underlined this quote."
He stepped closer, curious. She read aloud:
*"To survive in a world of wolves, you must first learn to bare your own teeth."*
Their eyes met.
"You still believe that?" she asked.
"I have to."
She nodded slowly, then whispered, "Then maybe it's time someone taught me how to grow fangs."
A silence stretched between them.
Then, something shifted in his eyes—not fear, not pity… but respect.
And the tiniest flicker of something dangerous.
Pride.
He walked over, took the book from her hand, and placed it back on the shelf.
"I'll teach you," he said softly. "But once you start down this road, Isabella, there's no going back."
She looked up at him, her voice steady now.
"I don't want to go back.