Tainted Loyalties

Chapter 2: Under His Gaze

Izzy felt her breath catch as Dante Moretti stood before her, his presence commanding every ounce of attention in the room. Up close, he was even more striking—his dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable, and there was a subtle intensity to the way he held himself. He didn't just look dangerous; he felt dangerous.

Sofia was already gone, disappearing into the crowd with a knowing glance, leaving Izzy standing alone, facing the one man she had no business interacting with.

"Mind if I join you?" Dante's voice was low, smooth like velvet, but with a razor's edge beneath it.

Izzy swallowed, her throat dry. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, studying her like she was some puzzle he wanted to unravel. "I'm not sure you're the kind of guy who asks for permission."

A slow smile curved his lips. "Maybe I'm feeling polite tonight."

His answer unsettled her, not because it was threatening, but because it was so casual, so comfortable. He had the kind of confidence that came from knowing he could get whatever he wanted. And right now, it seemed like all his attention was on her.

Izzy resisted the urge to look away, to shrink under his gaze. Instead, she stood a little taller, determined not to let him see how much his presence affected her. She wasn't some helpless girl to be toyed with, no matter how powerful or attractive he was.

"What brings you to a place like this?" Dante asked, his eyes never leaving her face.

Izzy shrugged, trying to keep her voice steady. "I could ask you the same question."

"You don't seem like you belong here," he said, ignoring her attempt to deflect. "These people... they're not your type."

She raised an eyebrow, feeling a flicker of irritation. "And what exactly is my type?"

He paused, considering her for a moment longer before speaking. "Innocent."

The word lingered between them, heavy and charged. It wasn't an insult, but it wasn't exactly a compliment either. It felt more like an observation, a judgment, like he could see right through her carefully crafted exterior.

Izzy's heart thudded in her chest. She had spent her entire life trying to separate herself from her family's darker world, to stay innocent in a place where corruption and power ruled. But hearing him say it so plainly made her feel exposed, vulnerable.

"You don't even know me," she said, her voice firmer now, trying to push back the rising tension.

Dante's eyes darkened, and he took a step closer. The space between them seemed to shrink, and Izzy could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence swallowing the air. "Not yet."

Her breath caught again, and she hated that he had this effect on her. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to ignore him, to walk away, but something about Dante Moretti was magnetic—dangerous and irresistible at the same time.

Before she could respond, a loud crash echoed from the other side of the room, breaking the spell between them. Izzy flinched, her head snapping toward the noise. A waiter had dropped a tray of glasses, the delicate shards scattering across the marble floor. The chatter in the room resumed quickly, but the moment of interruption was enough for Izzy to regain her composure.

"I should go," she said, taking a step back, needing to put distance between them. Dante's presence was suffocating, and if she stayed any longer, she feared she would lose herself in whatever game he was playing.

Dante tilted his head slightly, his eyes still locked on hers. "Running already?"

"I'm not running," she said sharply, more to convince herself than him. "I just don't see the point in—"

"You'll see me again, Isabella," Dante interrupted, his voice soft but certain. "You may not want to, but you will."

There was something final in the way he said her name, something that sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't know how he knew her name—perhaps he had overheard Sofia, or maybe he had already known who she was. That thought alone unsettled her. How much did he know about her? About her family?

Without another word, Izzy turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel his eyes on her back the entire time, burning like a brand.

The car ride home was quiet.

Sofia had picked up on Izzy's mood and, thankfully, didn't ask too many questions. Instead, she chattered about the party, gossiping about who had been there and what connections they might have. But Izzy barely heard any of it. Her mind was too busy replaying her encounter with Dante, every word, every look, every electrifying second.

By the time they reached her apartment, Izzy was exhausted—emotionally and physically. She collapsed onto her bed, her thoughts still spinning. Dante Moretti was a problem. The kind of problem she should avoid at all costs. And yet, part of her couldn't stop thinking about him. His words echoed in her mind: You'll see me again.

Was that a promise or a threat?

The next morning, Izzy woke with a familiar knot in her stomach—the feeling she always got when her life brushed too close to the shadows of her family. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how dangerous Dante really was. It wasn't just the rumors of his mafia ties that scared her; it was the fact that he seemed to know more about her than she wanted him to.

She couldn't afford to get involved with someone like him. Her father had always told her that their family had enemies, rivals who would use any weakness they could find. She had done everything in her power to stay out of that life, to keep her head down and focus on school. But now, she felt like she was being pulled into it, whether she wanted to be or not.

Izzy grabbed her phone, ready to text Sofia, but hesitated. How could she explain this without sounding paranoid? What was she even afraid of? Dante? Or the way she felt around him?

Before she could decide, her phone buzzed with a new message. It wasn't from Sofia.

It was from an unknown number. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened it.

"You left before I could finish our conversation. Let's fix that. —D"

Izzy's blood ran cold. She stared at the message, her mind racing. How had he gotten her number? And why did she feel a thrill running through her despite every warning sign flashing in her head?

She didn't respond. She couldn't. But deep down, she knew that Dante Moretti was right.

This was far from over.