Conflicted Desires

Chapter 30: Conflicted Desires

Isla lay beneath the silk sheets of Dante's bed, her body tangled with his, her skin still burning from the way he had claimed her hours ago. His grip on her waist was possessive even in sleep, his fingers pressing into her skin as if he feared she'd vanish.

She should have left already.

She should have gotten up, slipped out of his grasp, and reminded herself why she was here.

But she didn't.

Because, for the first time in years, Isla felt something terrifying.

She felt safe.

And that was dangerous.

---

The Mission That Remained

Her mission had never changed.

Antonio DeLuca, Dante's father—the man who had murdered her father in cold blood—had to die.

She had vowed it.

She had sworn it.

Yet, as she lay beside his son, wrapped in his scent, the reality of what she had to do crashed into her like a tidal wave.

Could she truly do it?

Could she kill the father without breaking the son?

Her fingers brushed against Dante's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He had killed for her. He had burned bridges, eliminated threats, and made it clear to the world that she was his.

But she couldn't be his.

She was here for revenge, not love.

She had to remember that.

---

A Dangerous Morning

Dante woke before she could slip away.

His arms tightened around her waist, his lips pressing against the back of her neck. "Where do you think you're going, gattina?"

Her breath hitched. "I have things to do."

"You have nowhere to be." His voice was deep, husky from sleep, but there was something else there too. A warning. A reminder.

She turned in his arms, facing him. "You can't keep me here forever."

Dante smirked, dragging his fingers down her spine. "You still think you have control in this?"

"I do," she challenged.

His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back. "Is that so?"

She should push him away. She should fight him.

Instead, she let him take.

His mouth crashed against hers, a battle of dominance that she shouldn't have wanted—but did.

The kiss was rough, possessive, and punishing. His hands explored her body, leaving no space between them. Isla melted into him, her nails digging into his back as he shifted over her, pressing her deeper into the mattress.

She gasped when his lips moved down her throat, nipping at her skin, marking her.

"You belong to me," he murmured against her collarbone, his voice dark.

She shuddered.

He was claiming her, making her forget everything but him.

But as much as her body responded, as much as she wanted to surrender to this moment—

She couldn't.

---

Breaking the Spell

The moment Dante stepped into the shower, Isla forced herself to move.

She slipped out of bed, grabbed the robe hanging nearby, and wrapped it around herself. She needed air. She needed to remember who she was before she forgot.

Walking onto the balcony, she took in the sight of the city before her. The skyline was still dark, the early morning hours just beginning to creep in.

Focus, Isla.

She had spent years planning this. She had sacrificed everything to get close enough to Antonio DeLuca. She couldn't let Dante distract her.

Yet, last night, she had let him own her.

She wasn't just sleeping with the enemy.

She was falling for him.

A shiver ran down her spine—not from the cool air but from the truth settling deep in her bones.

Could she kill Antonio and still walk away from Dante unscathed?

Would Dante let her?

Would she even want to walk away?

Before she could spiral further into dangerous thoughts, the bedroom door opened.

Dante stood there, his hair damp from the shower, wearing only dark sweats, his torso bare, covered in scars and tattoos that marked his brutal past.

His eyes locked onto her, narrowing slightly.

"Thinking of running?"

She forced a smirk. "You really think I'd be that stupid?"

Dante strode toward her, his movements slow, calculated. "No. But you are reckless."

Her breath caught as he stopped inches away. His hand lifted, tracing the edge of her jaw before tilting her chin up.

"Tell me what's in that pretty little head of yours," he murmured.

She swallowed hard. "Nothing you need to worry about."

His gaze darkened. "I worry about everything when it comes to you."

The intensity between them was suffocating.

She needed to get out.

---

A Secret Meeting

Later that evening, Isla slipped away from the mansion.

She needed to see Alex. She needed to remind herself why she was here, what their plan was.

She met him in an abandoned warehouse near the docks.

Alex was waiting, leaning against a table, arms crossed.

"You're late," he said, his tone sharp.

She exhaled. "I had to be careful."

His gaze searched her face. "You're slipping."

Her jaw clenched. "I'm not."

Alex stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "You let him get too close, Isla."

She looked away. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" His voice dropped lower. "Because the sister I knew wouldn't have taken this long to kill Antonio."

Her stomach twisted. "The timing has to be right."

Alex scoffed. "Or maybe you're not so sure anymore."

Her fists clenched. "Don't question my loyalty."

"Then prove it," he said, his voice cold. "Or I will."

The words sent a chill through her.

She had to make a choice soon.

And no matter what she chose, someone she cared about was going to get hurt.

---

A Silent Realization

As Isla returned to the mansion that night, she found Dante in his office, pouring himself a drink.

He looked up when she entered, studying her for a long moment.

Something had shifted between them.

Something unspoken.

She wasn't sure if he saw the conflict in her eyes, the war waging inside her.

But he didn't push.

Instead, he reached for her, pulling her onto his lap, his fingers tangling in her hair.

"Stay," he whispered.

And despite everything—

Despite the fact that she should have walked away—

She did.