He had just returned from the gym. His black hair was slightly damp, and he wore a dark T-shirt and sweatpants.
"Prepare the bath."
Isabella stared at him.
"What?"
"I need a bath."
"Then prepare it yourself!"
Dante raised an eyebrow.
"Is that how you speak to your employer?"
"You're not my employer. You're my captor!"
He watched her for a moment.
"Prepare the bath, Isabella."
She muttered something under her breath and walked into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, she returned.
"The water is ready."
Dante nodded.
"Come here."
She hesitated.
"What now?"
"Help me."
Isabella's eyes widened.
"Help you with what?"
He pointed towards the bathroom.
She understood what he meant and immediately shook her head.
"Absolutely not!"
Dante noticed her embarrassment.
"Relax. I only need you to help with the water and towels. I'll manage the rest."
She looked at him suspiciously.
"Promise?"
He gave her an amused look.
"Do you want a written agreement?"
She glared at him.
"You're impossible!"
Dante entered the bathroom and closed the door.
A few minutes later, his voice came from inside.
"Isabella."
She closed her eyes.
"What?"
"I need a towel."
She grabbed one from the cupboard and walked towards the bathroom.
The door opened slightly.
Dante reached out.
She handed him the towel without looking up.
"Thank you," he said.
Isabella blinked.
Was that actually a thank you?
Before Isabella could respond, Dante took her hand and led her towards the bathroom. The door slowly closed behind them.
But Isabella wasn't actually moving.
Her eyes were tightly shut as her imagination took over.
In her daydream, Dante stood close to her, gently brushing his lips against her neck before showering her with soft kisses. The scene grew increasingly intimate as they shared a romantic moment together beside the bathtub.
"Isabella!"
A sudden shake brought her back to reality.
She blinked several times and found Dante standing right in front of her, looking rather amused.
"Where did you disappear, sweetheart?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Isabella stared at him, completely flustered.
"W-What?"
Dante tilted his head. "I asked what you were daydreaming about."
"Nothing!" she answered immediately.
His eyes travelled over her unusually red face before a mischievous smile appeared on his lips.
He stepped closer and leaned towards her ear.
"Don't worry, Isabella. I'm a very good boy. I won't do anything naughty without your permission."
Isabella's eyes widened.
"DANTE!"
She immediately pushed his chest and stepped away.
"Nothing like that was happening in my mind!" she protested, her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.
Dante chuckled.
"Really? Then why are you blushing so much?"
"You're impossible!"
Before he could tease her any further, Isabella quickly rushed out of the bathroom.
Dante remained where he was, watching her disappear with an amused smile.
He shook his head slightly.
"Interesting imagination, Mrs. Moretti."
A quiet laugh escaped his lips.
A little later, Dante came out wearing a fresh white shirt and trousers. His hair was still slightly damp.
He noticed Isabella standing near the Dressing Table, struggling to arrange a few books while her long hair kept falling over her face.
"You're doing it wrong."
She turned.
"Then do it yourself!"
He picked up a book and placed it on the shelf.
"These go in alphabetical order."
Isabella crossed her arms.
"You're impossible."
"And you're stubborn."
"At least I'm not a control freak."
Dante chuckled.
He moved closer and noticed a few strands of hair covering her face.
"Stay still."
"Why?"
"Your hair."
Before she could ask anything else, he gently took a hairbrush from the dressing table.
Isabella looked at him through the mirror.
"What are you doing?"
"Brushing your hair. What does it look like?"
"I can do it myself."
"I noticed. That's why your hair looks like you've been fighting with a bird."
Her mouth fell open.
"Excuse me?"
Dante smiled slightly and began brushing her hair.
His movements were unexpectedly gentle.
Isabella slowly lowered her head, allowing him to brush the tangled strands.
For a few moments, the room became quiet.
She could feel his fingers occasionally touching her hair as he carefully brushed through it.
She had never imagined that Dante Moretti, the man who frightened everyone around him, could be this gentle.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"No."
"Good."
He continued brushing until her hair fell smoothly over her shoulders.
When he finished, Isabella lightly lowered her head again, trying to gather her hair over one shoulder.
Suddenly, Dante's fingers gently caught a section of her hair near the back of her head.
She stopped moving.
His other hand rested lightly near her shoulder.
"Look at me."
Isabella slowly lifted her face.
Their eyes met through the mirror.
Dante gently turned her towards him.
She found herself standing very close to him.
Too close.
His gaze moved across her face.
Her eyes.
Her cheeks.
And finally, her lips.
Isabella's heartbeat became faster.
"Dante..."
He didn't answer.
He simply looked at her.
His fingers were still holding her hair, but his grip was gentle. He leaned closer, slowly reducing the distance between them.
Isabella's breathing became uneven.
She knew she should move away.
She knew he was the man who had taken her freedom.
But at that moment, she couldn't bring herself to step back.
Dante's eyes remained fixed on hers.
His face was only inches away.
Isabella slowly closed her eyes.
She didn't know whether she was making a mistake.
She only knew that she wasn't moving away.
Dante noticed her closed eyes.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
He studied her face closely, taking in the delicate features she usually tried to hide behind her stubborn expressions.
For a moment, he simply admired her.
Then his gaze returned to her lips.
He was tempted to close the remaining distance.
But instead, he whispered,
"Isabella."
She waited.
"Are you holding your breath?"
Her eyes immediately opened.
"What?"
Dante smiled.
"You look like you're waiting for something."
Her cheeks turned bright red.
"I... I wasn't!"
"Really?"
"Yes!"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Then why did you close your eyes?"
Isabella stepped away immediately.
"I had something in my eye!"
Dante laughed softly.
"Both eyes?"
She grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at him.
"Shut up!"
He caught the cushion effortlessly.
"Careful, little girl. You're becoming quite aggressive."
"You're the most irritating man I've ever met!"
"And yet, you were standing very quietly a moment ago."
Isabella's mouth opened, but no words came out.
Dante placed the cushion back on the sofa.
"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone about your little moment."
"My what?"
He leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping into a playful whisper.
"Your almost-kiss."
Isabella covered her face with both hands.
"Stop... I hate you Dante, I really really hate you!"
Dante smiled.
"That's what you keep telling me."
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
"Boss?"
Fiona stood at the doorway holding a tray.
Dante stepped away from Isabella.
"Come in."
Fiona entered and placed the tray on the table.
Her eyes moved between Dante and Isabella.
She noticed Isabella's flushed cheeks and slightly messy hair.
Then she looked at the hairbrush in Dante's hand.
Her smile slowly disappeared.
"Is there anything else, Boss?" she asked.
"No. You can leave."
Fiona nodded and walked out.
But she didn't go far.
She stood outside the bedroom for a moment, her fingers tightening around the empty tray.
She had worked in this mansion for years.
She had imagined Dante brushing her hair, looking at her with affection, and eventually calling her his wife.
Yet he had just done those things for another woman.
Fiona's expression hardened.
"She won't take my place," she whispered.
Inside the room, Dante placed the hairbrush back on the dressing table.
Isabella quickly returned to arranging the books.
Neither of them noticed Fiona standing outside.