Chapter 2
Isabella
I frantically hung up the phone, which immediately began vibrating uncontrollably. Marco called again and again, as if trying to shake my phone to pieces.
I looked at the man beside me, morning light filtering through the curtains, highlighting his perfect muscle definition.
"You're really Marco's father?" My voice trembled. "Shouldn't you be in your fifties or something..."
Vito slowly sat up, his commanding calmness both terrifying and mesmerizing. He showed no sign of panic, as if awkward situations like this were routine for him.
"Stepfather. Adoptive," his voice remained deep and magnetic. "His parents died saving my life, so I adopted him. I'm thirty-three."
My mind went blank. Stepfather? What did that mean? Did it make things better or worse?
My phone continued vibrating, Marco's name flashing on the screen. I felt sick, unsure if it was from last night's alcohol or this absurd situation.
Vito stood up and began dressing, his movements as elegant as a performance. He pulled a bank card from his suit pocket and casually tossed it onto the bed.
"Three hundred thousand. For your silence," he said without looking back. "Forget last night. We never met."
The black card lay quietly on the rumpled sheets, gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
Three hundred thousand? What did he take me for?
Anger suddenly broke through my shock. I shoved the card away, sending it flying to the floor with a sharp clatter.
"I'm not a prostitute!" I shouted at him. "Last night was my choice. I don't need your money!"
Vito paused mid-dress and slowly turned to look at me. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes, as if few people dared speak to him this way.
We stared at each other, the tension in the air almost suffocating. He gave me a long, penetrating look, seeming about to say something, but ultimately remained silent.
"Interesting girl..." he murmured, then left without looking back.
I sat alone on the bed, staring at the black card I'd pushed to the floor, suddenly feeling like the whole world had become absurd.
Two hours later, I sat in the gynecology clinic at Brooklyn Community Hospital, with Sophia squeezing my hand tightly.
The pain between my legs made it impossible to ignore what had happened last night. The doctor, a middle-aged woman, frowned during the examination.
"Young people need to practice moderation," she gave me a meaningful look. "Too many times in one night isn't good for your body. And tell your boyfriend to be gentler next time, given his... size."
My face instantly turned tomato-red. Sophia tried to suppress her laughter beside me, but I could feel her intense curiosity.
After leaving the hospital, Sophia immediately dragged me to the coffee shop across the street.
"So how wild was this one-night stand guy?" Sophia lowered her voice, her eyes gleaming with gossip. "Even the doctor commented..."
I took a deep breath, knowing I couldn't hide anything from my best friend since childhood.
"It was Marco's father."
Coffee sprayed from Sophia's mouth, splattering everywhere. She stared at me with wide eyes as if I'd just announced I was an alien.
"What?!" Her voice was so loud that everyone in the coffee shop turned to look at us. "Are middle-aged men that good now? Was he on something?"
"No, he's his stepfather, so he's not that old, only thirty-three..." my voice grew increasingly quieter. "And he's really handsome, with an amazing body..."
Sophia gaped at me for a long moment, then suddenly burst into laughter.
"Isabella, what soap opera plot is this? First you catch your boyfriend cheating, then you have a one-night stand with his dad?"
"Stepfather!" I emphasized, though even I felt the distinction was meaningless.
"Your relationships are completely messed up now." Sophia wiped tears from her eyes. "But seriously, was he really that good? I mean... in bed?"
I recalled last night's passion, my body involuntarily heating up. Vito was indeed completely different from Marco; he knew how to please a woman, knew how to make my body burn.
"Very good," I admitted. "Way better than Marco."
Back in my apartment, I sat alone in front of the mirror, looking at my haggard reflection.
Last night's passion still replayed in my mind, and I couldn't deny my body's desire for him. Every time I thought of his touch, my skin would burn.
This is wrong. I know this is wrong. But why am I still thinking about him? Why is my body still savoring that feeling of being completely possessed?
My phone started vibrating again. Marco had sent a string of texts:
[Isabella, we need to talk!]
[How could you sleep with my dad?]
[This is disgusting!]
[Were you deliberately trying to get back at me?]
Looking at these messages, I suddenly found them amusing. Revenge? Maybe at first, but now... now I didn't even know what this was anymore.
I deleted all the messages, but Marco's words lingered in my mind.
Just then, the doorbell rang. I thought it was Sophia, but when I opened the door, I found a stranger.
"Ms. Isabella Rodriguez?" His voice was cold. "Someone has filed a complaint about food safety issues at your bakery. We need to conduct an inspection."
He handed me a notice from the Health Department. I looked at the complaint time—this morning, shortly after I'd left the hotel.
"Who filed the complaint?" I asked.
"That's confidential," the man replied expressionlessly.
Looking at the notice in my hand, an ominous feeling washed over me. This couldn't be a coincidence. Absolutely not.
