power couple

As they entered the gala, the grand hall shimmered with opulence. Isabella walked confidently beside Dante, her hand lightly resting on his arm. The sleek black gown she wore hugged her figure perfectly, exuding elegance and understated sensuality. The soft murmurs of admiration from the crowd didn't escape her notice, but what grounded her was the reassuring presence of Dante beside her. He was, as always, the picture of power and dominance, his sharp suit emphasizing the raw masculinity he carried so effortlessly.

At first, the evening went smoothly. People greeted her with polite smiles, and while there were a few thinly veiled remarks about her being "the new Mrs. Vitale," Isabella held her own. Dante had prepared her for this, after all. She stood tall, smiled graciously, and charmed those she spoke with.

But it was only a matter of time before someone decided to test her.

'Here we go' Isabella thought as a group of women, led by a striking brunette with sharp features, approached. Dante had stepped away to speak with an associate, leaving her momentarily alone.

The brunette, Bianca, was everything Isabella expected....a socialite who thrived on intimidation cloaked in charm. Her smile was all teeth as she addressed Isabella.

"Isabella" Bianca began, her voice saccharine sweet. "You look... lovely tonight. That dress is stunning—so simple yet elegant. Dante must be proud of his little wife."

"Thank you, Bianca" Isabella replied with a polite smile. She recognized the venom beneath the compliment but didn't rise to it.

Bianca's smile widened, and her voice dropped as she leaned in, ensuring only Isabella could hear her next words. "You know, it's funny... Dante and I go way back. He was quite attentive when we were together, if you know what I mean. But there's something you should know about him."

Isabella raised an eyebrow, her demeanor calm though her stomach twisted in annoyance. "And what might that be?"

Bianca's eyes gleamed with malice. "He doesn't like kissing. Or being touched on his face. And during... intimate moments, he couldn't even look at me. It's just how he is—detached. I thought you deserved to know, in case you were wondering why he's... distant with you."

The women behind Bianca giggled, their eyes flitting between Isabella and Bianca like vultures waiting for a reaction.

Isabella's first instinct was to snap back, but she quickly swallowed her anger. She took a slow breath, letting her mind catch up to her emotions. If this woman wanted to play dirty, Isabella would rise above her. With a sweet smile, Isabella replied, her voice calm but cutting.

"Hmm"she began thoughtfully. "Maybe it was just your face he didn't want to look at."

The laughter around them stopped instantly. Bianca's smile faltered, and her face flushed with embarrassment.

"You see" Isabella continued, her tone smooth as silk, "I've never had that problem with him. In fact, Dante's quite the opposite with me. He has to face me in bed too. He's very... attentive. Always complimenting me, always vocal about how beautiful I am. And as for kissing—well, let's just say I haven't encountered any issues there either." She leaned in slightly, her smile widening. "Maybe you just didn't inspire him enough."

Bianca's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. The other women exchanged wide-eyed glances, trying to hide their shock and amusement.

With a final, sweet nod, Isabella straightened. "It was lovely chatting with you Bianca. Enjoy the rest of the evening." She turned on her heel and walked away, her head held high.

What no one else knew....what only she knew was that everything she'd just said was a complete fabrication. She and Dante hadn't even had sex yet. Aside from that one heated moment where he marked her neck, their relationship hadn't progressed to the level Bianca was implying. But there was no way she was going to let anyone see her sweat, especially not someone like Bianca.

Unbeknownst to her, Dante had returned just in time to overhear the exchange. Leaning casually against a pillar, he watched his little micia handle herself with a smirk tugging at his lips.

When she approached him, her face flushed from the encounter, he offered her his arm. "That was... unexpected" he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Isabella blinked up at him, feigning innocence. "What was?"

Dante leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear. "Hearing my wife defend my honor with such... creative flair."

Her cheeks burned, but she managed to keep her composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Oh, but I do. Remind me to reward you for that performance later."

She huffed, slipping her hand into his as they moved through the crowd. All the while, Dante couldn't stop smirking, the image of Bianca's stunned face replaying in his mind.

Bianca might have thought she could rattle Isabella, but she'd underestimated his wife—and Dante couldn't have been prouder.

The night had barely settled when trouble found them again. Isabella had just finished her conversation with another guest when Dante returned to her side, his hand naturally finding its place on her waist. The gesture, subtle yet possessive, sent a clear message to the room: Isabella was his, and he was hers.

For most, the message was received, but for Bianca, it only fueled her jealousy. She watched them from across the room, her lips pressed into a thin line as envy gnawed at her insides. Her perfectly planned insult earlier had backfired spectacularly, and now, seeing Dante so attentive to Isabella, the bitterness consumed her.

With a fake smile plastered on her face, Bianca approached a server, grabbing a glass of red wine. Her eyes locked on Isabella like a predator stalking prey.

But Dante, ever watchful, caught the subtle shift in Bianca's posture. Just as she raised her hand to throw the wine, he acted. Swiftly and smoothly, he pulled Isabella out of harm's way, his grip on her waist tightening as the wine splattered harmlessly onto the floor.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Bianca" Dante said, his voice a quiet storm, "I'd advise you to reconsider whatever pathetic plan you think you have."

But Bianca wasn't done. Desperation made her reckless. She turned her attention to Dante, leaning closer and reaching out to touch his face, her hand barely brushing his jaw. When Dante shoved it away, danger radiating from his body.

"I was just trying to remind you of what we had, Dante" she purred, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

That was the final straw.

Isabella didn't think, didn't hesitate. She acted. Grabbing Bianca by her perfectly styled hair, Isabella yanked her back, eliciting a startled yelp.

"You've got a lot of nerve" Isabella said coldly, her voice steady as she dragged the struggling woman through the room. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, stunned into silence.

The grand double doors opened just as Isabella reached them, revealing Clara and Matteo entering arm-in-arm, their first official appearance as a couple. They froze mid-step, blinking at the sight before them: Isabella, poised and fierce, tossing a flailing Bianca out the door with an ease that stunned everyone.

Bianca landed unceremoniously on the ground outside, her dress askew and her dignity in shreds.

Clara, always quick with her wit, whistled low. "Wow, Isa. You've really embraced the Vitale lifestyle, huh?"

Isabella dusted off her hands and turned to Clara, her expression unbothered. "She's lucky I didn't let Dante handle her. She'd be buried six feet under by now."

Bianca groaned from the ground, trying to sit up. Clara smirked and leaned toward Isabella. "Is it wrong that I'm enjoying this a little too much?"

"Not at all" Isabella replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "It's about time someone put her in her place."

Bianca tried to glare up at them, but her fury was met with an icy stare from Isabella. With a calmness that belied her anger, Isabella turned to Matteo. "I don't want to see her in Italy ever again. Handle it. And if she does show up…" She let her words hang ominously in the air before finishing with an edge. "Kill her."

Matteo raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Consider it done."

Isabella crouched slightly, meeting Bianca's gaze. Her voice dropped to a whisper, but the steel in her tone was unmistakable. "You're lucky your parents are good people. If it weren't for them, you'd be in the depths of hell right now, meeting the devil himself."

Bianca's eyes widened, and she shrank back, fear overtaking her bravado.

Isabella stood, smoothing her dress as if nothing had happened, and walked back toward Dante. He was standing where she left him, a small smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes held pride.

"You're full of surprises, micia" he murmured as she slipped her hand back into his arm.

"I've been paying attention" she replied, tilting her head slightly. "Turns out, I've learned a thing or two from my devil of a husband."

As they reentered the gala, the murmurs followed them, but Isabella was unfazed. She had changed, grown into a woman who could stand tall beside Dante, meet challenges head-on, and protect what was hers.

Clara caught up to her, whispering, "I didn't think you had that in you."

Isabella smiled faintly, glancing back toward Bianca, who was still crumpled outside. "Neither did I. But I guess being a Vitale has its perks."