The DeLuca Ball

Chapter 15: The DeLuca Ball

The night was crisp, the air filled with a certain kind of electric anticipation. Isla stood in front of her mirror, dressed in a gown that clung to her body like a second skin, its dark emerald hue accentuating the curves she had learned to hide, but now flaunted as part of the role she was playing. Her reflection looked almost unrecognizable, the transformation from the simple, guarded woman she had been into the seductive, confident Bella Caruso now complete. Her hair was swept into a sleek updo, soft waves framing her face, and her makeup was impeccable, her lips a deep, daring red.

She wasn't just any woman tonight. She was someone else entirely.

Tonight was the DeLuca Ball—an event where the rich and powerful came together to flaunt their wealth, their status, and most importantly, their connections. It was the kind of place where deals were made under the guise of champagne toasts, where rivalries were kept in check with forced smiles, and where power was as intoxicating as the wine that flowed freely. Dante had made it clear that she was expected to attend with him, though their "relationship" was far from clear. He had invited her, but as his unofficial date, no strings attached—just another item on his arm for the evening.

Isla didn't want to go, not because she was afraid of what might happen, but because she knew that walking into this world with Dante would only pull her deeper into his orbit. But she didn't have a choice. This was part of her plan. She needed to be there. She needed to be seen by the right people. She needed to solidify her position and remind Dante that she was playing a game of her own.

As she heard the faint sound of footsteps outside her door, she took one last glance at herself in the mirror. She didn't know whether she was nervous or excited, but one thing was certain—this night would change everything.

The door creaked open, and Dante's voice followed. "Are you ready?"

Isla turned, and there he was. Dante DeLuca, every bit the powerful mafia boss he had shown himself to be. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, the black silk tie just tight enough to draw attention to the strength of his jawline. His eyes swept over her with an intensity that made her breath catch. He didn't need to say anything for the shift in the air to be felt. He didn't just look at her—he devoured her with his gaze.

"Not bad, Bella," Dante said, his voice low, with an edge of approval.

Isla arched an eyebrow, playing it cool as she stepped forward. "I clean up well, don't I?"

Dante smirked, his lips curling into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't get too comfortable. This is just another step in the game."

"I know," Isla replied, her voice steady. "And I'm not the one getting comfortable."

Without another word, Dante offered her his arm. Isla took it, allowing herself to be led down the hallway and out the front door. The limo waiting outside was sleek and black, its tinted windows hiding the faces inside. Isla's heart was racing again. This was it. The DeLuca Ball. The heart of the DeLuca empire. It was a world she had only ever heard about, a world that had once been out of reach. But tonight, she would step into it as if she belonged, because in the grand scheme of things, she did.

---

The drive was quiet, the hum of the city filling the space around them. Dante didn't speak, his gaze fixed out of the window, his mind no doubt preoccupied with something else. Isla could feel the weight of his silence. It was as if he was preparing himself for the night ahead, a night of facades and deception, a night where everything could change in an instant.

As the limo pulled up to the venue, Isla's breath caught in her throat. The DeLuca estate was massive, a sprawling mansion that looked like something out of a dream. The grand staircase leading up to the entrance was lined with white marble, lit by soft golden lights. The entire place exuded wealth, power, and history. The invitation to this event wasn't just a symbol of status—it was a statement. To be invited to the DeLuca Ball meant you had power, and you had been chosen.

Dante led her up the steps, his hand firm at the small of her back, guiding her through the grand entrance where the sound of laughter, music, and clinking glasses filled the air. As they walked inside, all eyes were drawn to them—some curious, some calculating. Isla's heart pounded in her chest. She was a part of this world now, whether she liked it or not.

The guests in the ballroom were a mixture of mafia royalty, political figures, and the occasional celebrity. The women were dressed to the nines, their gowns glittering with jewels and their smiles sharp enough to cut through glass. The men, too, were a sea of tailored suits, each one seeming to ooze power, influence, and wealth.

Dante's presence was like a magnet, pulling the room's attention toward him. His reputation preceded him, and Isla knew she wasn't just here as a decoration—she was part of the package. But what she couldn't shake was the feeling that everyone could see through her facade. They knew she wasn't just another pretty face in the crowd. They knew she had a purpose.

They made their way through the ballroom, and Isla found herself meeting the eyes of some very powerful people. She could feel the undercurrent of conversations, the whispers, and the calculating stares. But through it all, Dante remained at her side, his presence like an invisible barrier, protecting her but also keeping her tethered to him.

After some time, Dante leaned in close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "You're doing fine," he said, his voice low and intimate.

Isla looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a challenge in her eyes. "I'm not here to please anyone. Just remember that."

Dante's lips twitched into a smirk, but there was something dangerous in his expression. "I never expected you to. Just don't forget who you're playing against."

Isla didn't respond. Instead, she took a deep breath, turning her attention to the room around them. She wasn't here for him. She wasn't here for any of them. She was here for one thing—and one thing only: revenge.

---

The night wore on, and Isla found herself drifting from group to group, smiling, nodding, playing her part. It wasn't hard to keep the conversation light, to fit in with the rich and powerful. The world of high society was one she had always observed from a distance, but tonight, she was living it. She was inside it. But there was one thing she couldn't ignore—the pull of Dante's presence. Every time she glanced in his direction, he was watching her. His eyes were always on her, his gaze intense and calculating, as though he were silently assessing her every move.

Isla felt something stir deep inside her as the night wore on—a jealousy she hadn't expected, an ache that gnawed at her. She tried to brush it off, told herself that it was nothing more than a fleeting feeling. But when she caught sight of Dante across the room, his lips meeting Elena Ricci's in a kiss that was equal parts passion and possession, that jealousy turned into something darker.

It hit her like a physical blow, sharp and unexpected. She turned away quickly, her heart suddenly heavy in her chest. She was here for revenge, not for love. She wasn't supposed to care. She couldn't let herself care.

But no matter how hard she tried to push the feeling down, it lingered, cold and bitter in her chest. The DeLuca Ball was supposed to be about power, about positioning, about making moves. It wasn't supposed to make her feel like this.

Isla took a deep breath, shaking the thoughts from her head. She couldn't let this affect her. She had a job to do. Dante DeLuca was just another obstacle in her path—and she wouldn't let him distract her from her goal.

No matter how much he tempted her. No matter how much he made her feel.

Tonight, she reminded herself, she wasn't just Bella Caruso. She was a woman on a mission.