Bound By Shadows And Desire

(Isla POV)

The evening was intended to be just like any other.

I wore silk, my golden-brown hair perfectly styled, a glass of wine elegantly held as I exchanged smiles with men who shouldn't have been looking at me that way.

Yet, beneath the glamorous veneer of yet another Laurent gala, something felt amiss.

My father's smile appeared forced, his laughter lacked joy. He drank excessively, his fingers nervously clenching around the crystal glass as if trying to grasp something that was slipping away.

I had witnessed his reckless gambling before, always leaving with a sense of victory, oblivious to the dangers. But tonight, he seemed like a man on the brink of losing it all.

A wave of unease settled in my stomach.

I excused myself and navigated through the sparkling ballroom filled with women adorned in diamonds and men in finely tailored suits, heading towards the dimly lit hallway that led to my father's study. I meant to knock and confront him about the unsettling mood.

Then I heard his voice.

"I have nothing left to offer."

I froze, breath captured in my throat.

It wasn't just him. A second voice calm, low, and menacing responded. "Then you know what must happen next."

I shouldn't have stayed. I should have turned back, dismissed what I had heard. Instead, I pressed closer, ear against the solid wooden door, heart pounding in my chest.

"My fortune is gone," my father's voice trembled with desperation. "My assets, my businesses, everything. Please, Valenci, I need more time."

Valenci.

Dante Valenci.

Just hearing his name sent a chill down my spine.

I had never encountered him, yet I was aware of his notoriety. He was more than a man he was a legend, spoken of in hushed tones across New York, his power derived not solely from wealth but from bloodlines.

"I do not forgive debts," Dante replied smoothly.

My father gasped. "I I have something else. Someone."

Silence followed.

Then came Dante's voice again. "Continue."

I could hardly breathe.

"She's beautiful," my father stammered, his voice quivering. "Well-mannered. The perfect price for what I owe."

No.

A cruel laugh echoed back. "You're offering me your daughter?"

No. No. No.

"She's all I have left."

I recoiled, pressing a hand over my mouth to stifle any sound. The walls felt as though they were closing in, and the air was thick and suffocating. This was impossible; it couldn't be true.

My father had been many things a gambler, a deceiver, a man more devoted to money than ethics but he wouldn't stoop so low. He wouldn't sell me.

Would he?

Before I could process my thoughts, the door swung open.

Dante Valenci stood in the doorway, tall and composed, exuding an almost palpable power. Dressed in a sleek black suit, he seemed to have emerged from the shadows, every aspect of him sharp and unyielding. His face was chiseled-high cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips that seemed out of place on a man so devoid of compassion. But it was his eyes that made my stomach lurch.

Dark, cold, and merciless.

They locked onto mine, rendering me immobile.

My father stuttered behind him. "Isla, I"

"You sold me." The words barely escaped my lips.

My father flinched. "It's not"

But my focus had shifted away from him.

Now I was staring at Dante.

And Dante?

He looked at me as if I were already his.

His gaze roamed over me, deliberate and methodical, assessing me like a new acquisition. An unreadable expression passed over his features but vanished before I could understand it.

Then he advanced.

I retreated.

Another step.

Another retreat.

But the hallway was limited, and soon I was against the wall, breath catching in my throat.

He stopped just before me, close enough that I could detect the faint scent of expensive cologne crisp and intoxicating, with something darker lurking beneath.

"Isla Laurent," he murmured, pronouncing my name like a slow-burning promise. "It seems we have a deal."

I shook my head, trembling all over. "No. No, we don't."

His lips curled slightly, but it wasn't amusement-it was something far more sinister.

"I own you now."

I didn't expect it.

The abrupt sting in my neck.

The blurring of my vision.

The sensation of the world tilting beneath me, my body swaying.

Strong arms caught me before I could fall, and in my last moments of consciousness, Dante Valenci's face loomed over me, watching me succumb.

Detached.

Unfeeling.

As if he had simply claimed another piece in a game he controlled.