Chapter 7 – Sparks in the Coffee

The silence in the Café House was suffocating, so thick it seemed to hold people's breath.

The soft music that once filled the room now seemed distant, muffled by the weight of the tension that hung over Isabella's table. Even the inviting smell of fresh coffee lost its charm, replaced by a sense of alertness.

Customers glanced sideways, pretending to play with their phones or sip their cups, but deep down, everyone was paying attention to what was happening. A triangle of heavy gazes dominated the room: Alexander, Dante, and Isabella.

Dante broke the silence first, leaning slightly over the table. His insolent smile carried an irritating confidence.

"So it's you... the famous Alexander Valmont. The knight in shining armor." He chuckled softly, the deep chuckle reverberating in the air. "Funny, because from what I know, your armor isn't that impeccable."

Alexander stood up slowly, the movement calculated, almost theatrical. His dark suit matched the elegance of each gesture, but his gaze was hardened, as if struck by something invisible.

"You haven't changed at all, Dante," he said, his voice low but firm. "Always showing up where you're not wanted. Always bringing chaos."

"Chaos?" Dante arched an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between mockery and defiance. "I prefer to call it sincerity. At least I don't hide who I really am."

The words cut through the air like a sharp blade. Isabella watched the exchange, her heart racing, her throat dry.

"You two... have met?" she asked, confused, looking from one to the other.

Alexander didn't take his eyes off Dante, as if any hesitation were a sign of weakness.

"Unfortunately, yes."

Dante let out a low laugh, the sound laden with irony.

"Unfortunately," he says. Turning to Isabella, his dark eyes gleamed with intensity. "Did you know that your perfect boss here keeps some… very juicy secrets?"

Isabella frowned uncomfortably.

"What?" she asked uncertainly.

Alexander took a step forward, his tone now stern.

"Be careful what you say."

Dante, as if unable to resist the provocation, tilted his head to the side. The mischievous smile never left his face.

"Oh, relax, Alexander. I'm not going to tell her about… that night yet."

The insinuating tone made Isabella's heart race. The air felt thin.

"What night?" he asked, almost in a whisper, but neither of them answered.

Alexander's eyes hardened even further. He took a sharp step forward, standing only inches from Dante's face.

"If you open that dirty mouth to say anything… you'll regret it."

Dante's gaze was a living challenge. He didn't back down.

"Try it, then. I'm curious to see if the perfect prince really knows how to get his hands dirty."

The veins in Alexander's neck became visible. The fist raised, ready to explode in violence.

And then Isabella's voice cut through the air.

"Enough!" she shouted, placing herself between the two, her hands pressing firmly against their chests. "Are you crazy? Not here!"

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The people around them no longer tried to hide their curiosity. Some murmured among themselves, others discreetly raised their phones to record the scene.

Isabella was breathing heavily. She felt the strength contained in their bodies, as if each were a storm about to break.

Alexander, with a visible effort, took a step back. His eyes, however, never left Dante.

Dante, on the other hand, remained motionless for a few seconds, savoring the situation. Then, as if amused, he stepped back with an even more provocative smile.

"Interesting..." he said, his deep voice echoing in the silence. "It seems you're worth fighting for, Isabella."

His eyes met hers, intense, almost hypnotic.

"And I don't give up easily."

Isabella's heart raced. A chill ran down her spine. She couldn't tell if it was fear, fascination, or a mixture of both.

Alexander clenched his fists, his jaw rigid. His silence was as charged as Dante's sharp words.

Isabella, feeling her legs tremble, took a step back. Her chest heaved.

The war had begun.

It wasn't just a staredown. It was something deeper, a silent battle between opposing worlds. Alexander, with his controlled elegance, represented stability, security, a promise of order. Dante, with his dark gaze and dangerous smile, was the opposite: chaos, intensity, a plunge into something unpredictable.

And in the middle of it all was her.

Isabella looked around, noticing the curious glances, the whispers. The café was no longer a safe or welcoming place. It was an arena, and she was at its center.

Alexander was the first to regain his composure. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.

"Isabella, let's go," he said, without even looking at Dante. "This place is no longer appropriate."

But Dante stepped forward, blocking the exit with a simple movement of his body.

"Why are you in such a hurry, Alexander?" he asked, almost amused. "Are you afraid of what she might find out?"

Alexander narrowed his eyes.

"I won't expose Isabella to that kind of cheap theater."

"Theater?" Dante laughed, the sound low and ironic. "Call it what you will. But I play fair. Unlike you."

Isabella, lost between them, tried to regain control of the situation.

"Enough. I… I don't want to stay here." Her voice trembled, but it was firm enough for them both to stop.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing pulse.

"I'm going home."

Alexander turned to her immediately.

"I'll walk you."

But before Isabella could answer, Dante spoke, his gaze fixed on her:

"Don't trust him so much. The perfect man you think you know… doesn't exist."

The sentence echoed in her mind.

She didn't answer. She just grabbed her bag and walked toward the exit, feeling the eyes burning into her back.

Alexander followed closely, like a silent guardian. Dante, for his part, remained in the café, watching, the enigmatic smile still on his lips.

The atmosphere, however, was far from calm.

That morning, the café that was supposed to be just a light meeting had turned into an emotional battlefield.

And Isabella knew, deep in her heart, that this was just the first spark of a much larger war.