First Kiss

Chapter 14: First Kiss

It had been days since the confrontation with Marco Santoro, but the air between Isla and Dante had only grown thicker. Every interaction with him, every glance he sent her way, was charged with something electric, something dangerous. And every time she thought she might be able to escape the pull of his presence, he was there again, lurking in the shadows, a reminder that he was always watching.

It was only a matter of time before something broke, and Isla was afraid that when it did, she would be swept away by the storm.

Isla's eyes flickered toward the VIP section, where Dante sat, flanked by his usual entourage, his posture casual yet commanding. He had been watching her all night, his gaze never straying too far from her. Every time their eyes met, something flickered in his eyes—an intensity she couldn't ignore, one that made her stomach flip and her heart race. She couldn't help but feel drawn to him, no matter how much she tried to push the feelings down.

Tonight, however, it seemed like the tension between them had reached its breaking point.

Dante's eyes locked with hers from across the room, and something in the air shifted. The moment felt charged, as if the entire club had disappeared, leaving only the two of them in their own world. She knew he was coming toward her before he even moved.

Isla turned away quickly, attempting to focus on the task at hand. She picked up a tray of drinks and began to make her way through the crowd, but her heart raced as she felt his presence drawing nearer. She knew he was following her.

A few steps away from the bar, she was pulled into a dark corner of the club. Her breath caught in her throat as she was spun around, her back pressed against the cool wall. Dante's body was inches from hers, his gaze dark, intense—his lips parted as if he were about to speak, but no words came.

Isla's breath quickened. This was it. She had been waiting for this moment, both dreading it and wanting it in the deepest, most dangerous part of her soul. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and she couldn't deny the way her body reacted to him.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Bella," Dante said, his voice low and husky. His hand hovered near her waist, his fingers brushing her skin ever so slightly, causing a spark of heat to race through her body.

She didn't back away. Instead, she tilted her chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. "Maybe I like danger."

Dante's lips curled into a small, knowing smirk. "I've been watching you, Bella. You think you're in control, but you're not." His gaze darkened further as he took a step closer, the air between them crackling with tension.

Isla's heart pounded in her chest, the sound deafening in her ears. She swallowed, trying to steady herself. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

Dante's smirk widened, but there was something darker in his expression now, something that made her pulse race with both fear and desire. "No, you're not. You're mine now, Bella. You belong to me."

The words sent a shockwave through Isla's body. She wanted to protest, to tell him he was wrong, that she wasn't some possession to be claimed. But when he stepped closer, his body pressing against hers, she couldn't find the words. All she could do was breathe him in—his scent, his heat, the raw power he exuded.

Dante's fingers brushed against her cheek, tilting her head up so their eyes locked. His hand slid down to her neck, gripping it gently, but there was a possessiveness in his touch that made her pulse quicken. He was in control. There was no escaping it.

"Don't you dare try to lie to me," he said softly, his breath brushing against her lips. "You want this. You want me."

Isla's lips parted as she tried to find the words, but before she could speak, Dante closed the distance between them, crushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was brutal, demanding, and full of fire.

For a moment, Isla was stunned, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of it. She had expected this to be a moment of defiance, of pushing him away, but instead, she found herself leaning into him, her body reacting before her mind could even catch up. His kiss was overwhelming, all consuming, like a storm that tore through everything in its path. His lips were insistent, coaxing, as though he was claiming her, marking her as his own.

Heat coiled in her stomach, spreading out to her limbs. She tried to push back, tried to fight the feelings rushing through her, but the more she struggled, the more he deepened the kiss, his hands gripping her tightly. There was no room to breathe, no space to think, only the kiss—his tongue demanding, his lips leaving no room for argument.

Isla's hands moved instinctively, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if she needed something to hold onto. She could taste the whiskey on his lips, feel the strength of his body pressed against hers, and in that moment, the world outside the club seemed to disappear.

When Dante finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his eyes burning with an intensity that made Isla's knees feel weak. His lips hovered just inches from hers, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

"You're mine, Bella," he repeated, his voice rough and possessive. "And don't forget it."

Isla's heart was racing, her body still thrumming with the aftereffects of the kiss. She tried to pull away from him, but Dante's hand remained firm on her neck, holding her in place. She met his gaze, her chest heaving with the emotions swirling inside her—confusion, desire, anger, and something else, something she didn't want to acknowledge.

"Is this part of the game?" she asked breathlessly, her voice unsteady. "Is this how you make people obey you?"

Dante's eyes darkened further, and his lips curled into a cold smile. "This isn't a game, Bella. This is you and me. And you will learn that the hard way."

Before Isla could respond, Dante stepped back, his eyes still locked on hers. He didn't say anything more; he simply turned and walked away, leaving Isla standing in the dark corner, her body trembling, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Her chest was tight, her lips still tingling from the force of his kiss. She tried to shake the feelings away, tried to convince herself that this was just part of her plan—just another step toward her revenge. But deep down, she knew that something had shifted. Something had changed, and she wasn't sure how to fight it.

Isla closed her eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath as she tried to regain her composure. She couldn't lose focus. She couldn't let Dante DeLuca get inside her head, inside her heart. She was here for one thing, and one thing only: revenge.

And nothing—no matter how strong the pull—would change that.