𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒

𝐓 𝐇 𝐈 𝐑 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐍

I S A B E L L A

ᥫ᭡

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐓𝐄 𝐆𝐘𝐌 was bathed in a soft, amber glow, the air thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and determination. Heavy bags swayed gently from the ceiling, and the faint sound of weights clinking echoed in the otherwise silent room. Mirrors lined one wall, reflecting the dim light and amplifying the sense of space.

I stepped inside, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. He stood in the center of the room, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes met mine. He was wearing a white T-shirt and gray sweats, showing his toned skin and muscular body. 

What the fuck was I nervous for?

"You're late," he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Fuck being late, I didn't even want to be here in the first place. The maids kept bugging me about how their 'don' wanted me downstairs and how urgent it was. It was annoying me.

I squared my shoulders, refusing to let his presence intimidate me. "Fashionably late," I retorted, shrugging my shoulders. I squared my shoulders, meeting his gaze. "I'm ready." I say tightening my ponytail 

We started with basic stretches. His hands occasionally brushed against my skin as he corrected my form, each touch sending a jolt through me. His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, making it hard to focus on the exercises. I couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt.

It's so hard to stay mad at this man.

"Keep your back straight," he instructed, stepping behind me to adjust my posture. His breath was warm against my neck, and I fought to suppress a shiver. His eyes never left mine, dark and intense, as if daring me to look away.

God, I fucking hate this man.

"Keep your focus," he advised, his voice low and steady.

"I am focused." I say firmly, lying straight through my teeth. 

"Yeah?" He asks with a smirk on his face, making me roll my eyes at him.

After the warm-up, he led me to the sparring area. The mat beneath my feet was firm, yet gave slightly under my weight. "Show me what you've got," he nodded at me, tossing me a pair of gloves. The leather felt cool and smooth against my skin.

I took a deep breath, slipping on the gloves and stepping into the ring.

"Hit me."

I landed a hit, smirking at him. He stepped back and plastered a devilish smirk on his face. He responded with a swift, controlled counterattack, his body brushing against mine as he moved. I did a roundhouse kick. He dodged, but only barely, his eyes widening in surprise. Seizing the opportunity, I followed up with a series of rapid punches.

 Left punch, right kick. Right punch, left kick. 

Shit, call me Mike Tyson.

"Is that the best you've got?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter. "You wish."

His laughter filled the air, a deep rumble that sent a flush creeping up my neck. Sexist sound I've ever heard but I have to stand on business.

I was so distracted by the littlest things that one misstep sent me stumbling. Before I could fully process what was happening, he was there, steadying me with a firm hand. I was about to stand up before he lets my hand go and I fall.

"You're-"

"Shut the fuck up." 

He threw a quick jab, testing my defenses. I parried it with my left glove, stepping back slightly to reset my stance. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I felt a strange mix of tension and attraction.

I decided to test him with a jab of my own, snapping my left fist out quickly. It connected with his glove, a light tap to gauge his reaction. He responded with a flurry of punches—jab, cross, hook. I bobbed and weaved, my head movement fluid as I avoided most of the blows, though a hook grazed my ear. He smirked, a confident glint in his eye that sent a shiver down my spine.

I feinted with my left hand, then launched a right cross. It landed solidly on his cheek, snapping his head back. He retaliated with a straight right, but I slipped it and countered with a left uppercut, catching him under the chin. As our bodies briefly brushed past each other, the heat of the moment was almost overwhelming.

He caught me with a powerful body shot. I felt the impact in my ribs, a sharp pain that made me grit my teeth. I clinched, wrapping my arms around his to halt his momentum. The closeness was electric; his breath was hot against my neck. His eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, the world outside the ring disappeared.

Taking the moment into my own hands, I gently brush my hand over his cock through his pants smirking. He curses under his breath as I continued to do it again. I gave it a squeeze making him throw his head back as he ran his hands through his curly hair.

"Isabella." He says, my name slipping off his tongue perfectly.

"Hm?" I hum looking up at him innocently. 

"Fanculo, stop." He groans.

"Stop what?" I asked almost too innocently. I bring myself to my knees before stopping both of my hands at his cock. He looks down at me with dark eyes. I smirked at him before punching him in a dick hard enough for it to hurt.

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath, holding his dick. I laugh at him while he practically tried to stop his dick from hurting.

"You're too easy DeLuca." I say, holding my stomach. "That's for telling me what to do."

He looks up at me and begin slowly coming towards me. He looked mad, real mad.

"Oh, shit." I whispered,  before darting out the room. My heart raced, adrenaline pumping as I ran down the hall, glancing back to see him hot on my trail, his eyes still dark. I could hear his voice, half-calling out my name, urging me to stop running. But I was having too much fun to stop.

Breaking through the grove, I found myself in the kitchen. I stopped on the other side of the counter while he stood there across from me. Our eyes locked, and I couldn't help but laugh, his dick was throbbing right now, because of me.

"I'm sorry, I swear." I said catching my breath.

He tried to come closer.

I took off again, running up the stairs, trying to reach my room. I could hear his footsteps getting closer, his breath coming in quick, determined bursts. I tripped on a fucking step. I could feel him closing the gap. I managed to get upstairs and reach my door. Just when I thought I might actually escape, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me to a sudden stop.

"Gotcha," he panted, his breath hot against my ear as he held me close. I could feel his heart pounding against my back, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. I turned in his arms, looking up into his eyes, which were sparkling with triumph and affection.

"You caught me," I said breathlessly, a smile playing on my lips. I didn't even realixe that we entered the room and the door was now closed.

He leaned in, his face inches from mine, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip. "Never underestimate me," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

I laughed softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Maybe I just wanted to be caught," I replied, my voice equally soft.

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "Stop with the fucking teasing, bella." he whispered, his lips brushing against mine slightly. I ran my hands through his curly hair, making him hum in response. He was about to kiss me until Nico bursts into the room. I immediately push Lorenzo off of me making him frown.

"Isabella. Your father." He says with a worried face.

"What about him?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"He's dead."