Antonio’s lips curved into a smirk as his dark eyes flicked to me, amusement written all over his face. It was like he enjoyed watching me fall apart.
But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
I squared my shoulders and let my expression harden, forcing myself to meet his gaze head-on. If he thought this was going to break me, he was sorely mistaken.
“Well,” I said coolly, gesturing toward the open door. “If you two want to continue your little... performance, I suggest you find another room. I’m sure you’ll feel much more comfortable somewhere else.”
Sofia’s grin faltered just a bit before she straightened and stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. “Better things to do, huh? Like what, Isabella? Make empty threats?”
Antonio’s lips twitched, clearly enjoying her little performance.
“Come on, Isabella,” Sofia sneered. “You’re not gonna call off this engagement. You wouldn’t dare. What are you without Daddy De Luca? Nothing.” She crossed her arms, the smugness radiating off her in waves.
I didn’t say anything, just stared at her, which seemed to piss her off even more.
“And let’s not forget,” she continued, her voice dripping with mockery, “you’re not even Marcus’s real daughter. You think you can waltz in here, playing perfect little mafia princess, and actually have a say in anything? Please.”
Antonio chuckled lowly, his eyes locking onto mine. “She’s not wrong, Isabella. You think you can just walk away from this? From me? You’re dreaming, Isabella.”
I took a slow, deep breath, keeping my face blank even though my chest felt like it was caving in.
“You’re both so sure of yourselves,” I said evenly. “But guess what? I don’t care.”
Sofia’s jaw dropped, but I wasn’t done.
“I don’t care what either of you think,” I continued, turning my attention to Antonio. “And I don’t care what my father thinks, either.”
Sofia let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, that’s cute. The porcelain doll thinks she’s grown a backbone.”
“Keep talking, Sofia,” I said with a shrug. “It won’t change anything.”
Antonio’s smirk dropped instantly. His whole demeanor shifted as he stepped closer, his jaw tight. “You’re not ending this,” he said, his voice sharper now.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why not? You don’t want this. I sure as hell don’t want this. So what’s stopping me?”
In a flash, Antonio grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not rough. His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but every word hit like a punch to the gut. “You don’t get to call the shots, Isabella. You never did. And let’s not forget—you’re not even a real De Luca. You’re just a charity case, playing pretend in our world.”
My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. No way was I letting him see how much that hurt.
He was right, of course. I wasn’t Marcus De Luca’s biological daughter. I’d known that since I was a teenager, but hearing it thrown in my face like this still stung.
“You’re right,” I said, my voice calm, even though my chest was burning. “I’m not a De Luca by blood. But that doesn’t mean you or anyone else gets to treat me like I don’t belong here.”
His jaw clenched, his grip tightening just slightly before he let go.
“And as for this engagement,” I continued, taking a step back, “tell my father whatever you want. I’ll make sure he knows exactly how I feel about it. If you and Sofia want to play house so badly, go for it. I’m done.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Sofia piped up, stepping beside him. “You’re bluffing. You can’t call it off, Isabella. You don’t have that kind of power.” She glanced at Antonio, smirking. “Right, babe?”
Antonio didn’t look at her. Instead, his gaze stayed on me, dark and intense.
“You’re not ending it,” he said again, his voice quieter this time but no less firm.
I yanked my arm out of his reach and gave him a tight smile. “Watch me.”
