Page 21 of Isabella

Our family has had no issues with the Bonetti family, and since I’m sure my brother is preparing to marry me off soon, Massimo Bonetti would be a great option. Aligning our families together would make us one of the strongest in the entire country.

Massimo pulls me up from my seat and leads me to the dance floor.

Just when I’m about to set my hands in a waltz form, Massimo slides his free hand around my waist and pulls me into him, invading my space. He holds one of my hands against his chest while my other hand falls naturally on his broad shoulder, and we sway to the slow beat of the music.

It’s quite personal, to be honest, and normally, I’d be taken aback since I know nothing about this man, but there’s something comforting and… flattering about being in his arms.

“You look beautiful tonight, Isabella,” he says, which drags my attention up to his.

His deep-amber-colored eyes complement his dark hair that is styled back with strands placed in perfect disarray. It’s the kind of style that looks like he put no effort into, but you know he must’ve because he looks too damn good.

The light stubble on his face and the scar in his eyebrow give him that ruggedly handsome appeal. Sexy with a hint of danger. It’s alluring.

“You do too,” I say, returning the compliment.

He chuckles softly, the deep gravel in his chest reverberating into mine.

“You know,” Massimo begins, but is immediately cut off by a deep velvety voice I’ve tried so hard to erase from my mind. It airs a hint of aggression, casting a dark shadow over Massimo’s and my dance.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Without looking at the intruder, I say, “We’re busy right now. Massimo was just about to tell me something.”

Massimo’s full lips turn up into a smirk as he ignores Nicco, keeping his gaze on mine. I feel Nicco staring at me but refuse to look at him. Refuse to give him the time of day. Like he refused to give me when he shattered my heart.

“Massimo,” Nicco all but growls out.

“Please ignore him, Massimo,” I say.

He smiles and lets out a light chuckle. “It’s all right. Another time,dolcezza,” he says before dropping his hands from my body and stepping back, bringing his attention to the asshole to my left.

“It’s been fun, Niccolò,” he says before giving him a nod and walking away, leaving me to stand there in deafening silence with the last person I want to be around.

I turn to walk through the throng of people back to my table, when a firm, heated grasp slithers its way around my wrist, pulling me back into what feels like a brick wall.

“Not so fast,” Nicco says as I try to wiggle myself free from his grip, but it’s no use. He has me strung up so close that all I can focus on is the delicious cologne he’s worn since college.

Without another word, Nicco steps around me, takes my hand, and places it on his shoulder. He slides his arm around my waist but lets his hand find its way to the curve of my back. Grabbing a hold of my other hand, he interlocks his fingers with mine and holds it close to his chest. Similar to the position Massimo and I were in, but this feels far more intimate.

I run my gaze over his empty ring finger.What ever happened with him and that girl in Italy he was supposed to marry?

The song changes, and to my dismay, it’s another slow song. Not that a fast one would make this situation any better.

I want to fight him on this, but I don’t want to cause a scene.

Nicco leads us around the dance floor, and the heat from his hand on my lower back emanates through the thin piece of fabric between us. It takes everything in me not to shiver under his touch. It’s as if my body hasn’t forgotten and knows just how to respond to him.

Unfortunately for my body, my brain remembers the exact hell this man and his family have put me through. I straighten my spine and continue avoiding eye contact with him.

“Are you going to speak to me, Isabella?”

I ignore him, staring over his shoulder and trying to get a good view of my brothers to see if they can see me from the table.

“They’re not going to see us over here. There are far too many bodies on the dance floor, and the lights are far too dimmed.”

I continue to ignore him, annoyed that it’s so easy for him to read me.

“Are you going to look at me?” he asks, his voice softer this time, but I keep my gaze away from his.

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