Page 84 of Prince of Vice

The audacity of it all leaves me breathless. Irritation courses through me as I realize that he still isn't getting the message. His attempts to woo me back only make it harder to get over him, but who am I kidding? I'm not getting over him at all.

I collapse into the armchair of my small apartment, the walls seeming to close in around me. A sad laugh escapes my lips. It's been quite the opposite of moving on, really. No matter what I do, I can't seem to stop thinking about him. My work suffers; cases pile up, untouched, while I obsessively check news sites reporting on him and his brother making great business strides. I'm confused by his choice to work with Giovanni, but Primo made it clear he was returning to crime. And I cannot support that life.

My heart aches for him, and every inch of my body craves his touch. When I close my eyes at night, I can't help but explore myself, reliving the way he dominated me. I want more of that with him, to delve deeper into our desires together. But I know this will never be, not while I refuse to live a life of crime.

"Damn you, Primo," I whisper into the quiet of my apartment, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. I wipe them away, trying to regain some semblance of control over my emotions.

"Get a grip, Isabella," I chide myself. "You are stronger than this."

And yet, as I sit there holding the invitation, I wonder if attending the fundraiser might be the final push I need to move on from Primo Maldonado once and for all.

I study the invitation more closely, noticing it includes a plus one. A wicked grin tugs at my lips as a devious thought crosses my mind.

"Two can play this game," I murmur under my breath.

I quickly text my sister, asking if she knows any doctors who wouldn't mind attending a fundraiser with me as a date. She replies almost immediately, assuring me she can find someone suitable. I send her a picture of the invitation and she responds with a note of caution:

I hope you know what you're doing.

My fingers fly across the screen, typing out a message that I'm pretty sure I do.

The night of the fundraiser arrives, and a nice but painfully boring doctor named Isaac stands at my doorstep. He's tall and skinny, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. We exchange pleasantries, and he escorts me to his car.

As we drive toward Primo's mansion, I attempt conversation. But Isaac barely responds to my questions, making me yearn for Primo's passion and imposing character. "This is for the best," I remind myself. "Primo needs to see me with another man. Only then can we both move on."

We pull up to the valet, stepping out of the car and walking arm in arm toward the entrance. It feels strange entering Primo's mansion with another man, but I ‘m determined to see this through. I'm wearing an exquisite gown—a daring, blood-red number that hugs my curves and leaves little to the imagination. The fabric clings uncomfortably, but I know it will make me irresistible tonight. Despite everything, I still wear the pendant Primo gave me, unable to part with the memory it holds.

"Isabella, you look stunning," Isaac says, breaking our prolonged silence.

"Thank you," I reply, forcing a smile. "You clean up nicely yourself."

We continue to exchange small talk, but my thoughts are elsewhere. I wonder what Primo's reaction will be when he sees me with Isaac. Will it finally drive him away or push him further into the darkness? And can I truly let him go?

"Is everything okay?" Isaac asks, drawing me back to the present.

"Of course," I lie through a tight smile. "Just trying to mentally prepare myself for the evening."

As we step into Primo's mansion, I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, ready to face the man whose presence continues to haunt me.

I'm struck by how different the mansion feels from my previous visits. The cold, austere atmosphere has been replaced by a warm and inviting ambiance. Soft, golden light spills from elegant chandeliers, casting a romantic glow on the room. The walls are adorned with tasteful artwork, and the air hums with the lively chatter of well-dressed guests.

"Isabella, look at this place," Isaac says, his voice barely audible over the din. "It's like stepping into another world."

I nod in agreement, but my thoughts are elsewhere. My eyes scan the room, taking in the silent auction set up along one wall, where people are bidding on various items ranging from fine wines to exotic vacations. I know there will be a live auction later in the evening, and I can already sense the anticipation building among the attendees.

Waiters weave through the crowd, offering delicate hors d'oeuvres on silver platters. The scent of gourmet cuisine mingles with the expensive perfumes and colognes of the guests. Surprisingly, I don't see any familiar faces from the mob families – an unexpected relief considering the Maldonado name.

“Who’s that?” Isaac asks, pointing toward the door.

I glance over and see Primo's younger brother approaching us. He looks sharp in his tailored suit, yet a hint of anxiety lingers in his eyes. As he reaches us, I greet him with apprehension, unsure of how he'll react to Isaac. “An acquaintance,” I respond quickly to Isaac.

"Welcome, Isabella," Giovanni smiles warmly, though the tension between us is palpable. "And who is your handsome companion for the evening?"

"Isaac," I introduce, trying to keep my voice steady. "He's a doctor."

"Ah, a doctor," Giovanni nods, sizing Isaac up with a curious gaze. "Well, it's good to see you, Isabella. I hope you enjoy the evening."

"Thank you," I reply, exchanging a courteous smile before we move further into the room.