Chapter 15: The Breaking Point

The moment Isla stepped onto the dance floor with Ethan, she knew she had made a mistake.

Not because Ethan was too charming or because she regretted it.

But because of the way she could feel Alessandro's gaze burning into her from across the room.

Ethan placed a hand on her waist, leading her into a slow waltz. "So, tell me, Isla," he murmured, his tone casual but laced with curiosity. "How does it feel to be engaged to the most ruthless man in the room?"

She forced a polite smile. "Thrilling."

Ethan chuckled. "I can imagine." His fingers flexed slightly against her waist. "Though, I have to say, you don't seem like his type."

Isla arched a brow. "Oh?"

"I mean, Alessandro doesn't do relationships," Ethan continued. "He doesn't get engaged. And yet, here you are."

She tilted her head. "Maybe I'm the exception."

Ethan smirked. "Or maybe you're the pawn."

Something cold slithered down her spine.

Ethan was playing his own game—testing her, probing for weakness.

Before she could respond, a shadow loomed beside them.

A hand closed around her wrist. Firm. Unyielding.

Alessandro.

The air shifted instantly.

The easy amusement in Ethan's expression faltered as Alessandro's grip tightened, his dark eyes locked onto Isla with a quiet, dangerous intensity.

"Dance is over," Alessandro said, his voice calm but lethal.

Ethan lifted his hands in mock surrender, stepping back. "Didn't realize you were the jealous type, Romano."

"I'm not," Alessandro said smoothly. "But I am possessive."

A shiver ran through Isla.

Ethan let out a soft chuckle, clearly entertained. "Noted."

With a final glance at Isla, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

The moment he was gone, Alessandro pulled her flush against him, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist.

"What the hell was that?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Isla lifted her chin, refusing to let him intimidate her. "I was dancing."

His grip on her waist tightened. "You were testing me."

She smirked. "Did I pass?"

His jaw ticked, and for the first time, she saw it—cracks in his carefully controlled demeanor.

Good.

Alessandro Romano played games.

But so did she.

"Jealous, Alessandro?" she taunted, her voice silk and steel.

His eyes darkened, something dangerous flickering beneath the surface. "I don't get jealous."

She smiled sweetly. "Then why are you holding me so tight?"

A muscle in his jaw jumped.

Then, without warning, he spun her into a dance of his own—faster, more demanding, his grip unrelenting as he led her across the floor.

It wasn't a waltz.

It was a battle.

Each step, each movement, was a silent war for dominance.

And Isla wasn't sure if she was winning or losing.

She barely had time to catch her breath before Alessandro leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

"Don't play games with me, Isla," he murmured, his voice dark, possessive. "You won't win."

Her heart pounded.

But she refused to back down.

"Watch me."

His smirk was slow, dangerous.

"Oh, cara mia," he murmured. "You just started something you can't control."

And for the first time that night—

Isla wasn't sure if she wanted to.