Chapter 2 Getting Married?!

ISABELLA

We stepped out of the club, and we walked towards a matte-black Tesla Cybertruck gleaming under the neon lights like something straight out of a movie. It looked bold, expensive, and way too dangerous for a girl like me.

He leaned against it casually, his leather jacket molded to his shoulders like it had been made just for him—the kind of jacket that probably could pay my rent twice over. The soft hum of bass from the club faded as my eyes traced the ink swirling down his forearm, peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeve.

God… Even his tattoos looked rich.

He opened the door, and I slipped in. My heartbeat sped up as the engine purred to life.

We checked into a hotel. Everything after that was a blur. My vision was hazy, my thoughts even worse.

“I think we’ve gone further than we intended,” I slurred.

He looked at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his full, red lips.

Oh God, what was happening to me?

“We haven’t, bella mia,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing my cheek, his Italian accent curling around the words like silk. I was surprised he knew my name.

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but my breath caught when he leaned closer. His cologne filled my senses, my heart racing faster. My brain screamed no, but my body didn’t listen. He pressed his lips to mine, gripped my waist, and laid me gently on the soft bed.

He plastered my face with his soft lips, dragging down my skirt in no time. I hated that that was exactly what I wanted; he moved his hands slowly from my knees to my thighs, making me gulp air.

I quivered my pussy impatiently waiting for his cock.

“Bella Mia”

His hot breath made me tremble, but we weren’t ready for that. He placed his finger in and out of my pussy as the soft man couldn’t stop escaping my mouth. The rhythm got faster, and I was breathless. This was my first time; you wouldn’t blame me for not being able to handle it. He stopped for a nanosecond, and then. I felt something mighty in me; could that be his…?

“Ahhhhh.”

I was certain my tiny voice filled the whole place; how could I not? It was gigantic.

THE NEXT DAY

I woke up to the smell of pasta. Weird, because Mom rarely cooked this early except that it was Christmas. My head felt heavy, my body light.

Catching my reflection in the mirror, my stomach twisted. My blue eyes looked dull, and my blonde hair was tied up in a loose, messy bun. Then it all came rushing back… last night.

That scent… I could still smell him on me.

I pressed my palms against the sink, chest tightening. I felt the same… and yet, not. Something had changed. I had lost my virginity.

Part of me wanted to celebrate finally; you’re growing up, Bells.

But another voice whispered, After nineteen years, you gave it to a stranger?

It felt almost like a sin. I bolted before he could even open his eyes, praying I’d never see him again.

I rubbed my face, trying to wash away the night and the way it had made me feel.

After brushing my teeth, I headed downstairs in my usual grey shorts and hoodie. The moment Mom heard my footsteps, she turned, her bright brown eyes curious.

“Good morning, Mom,” I greeted as I entered the kitchen.

“Morning, Bells,” she said, grinning mischievously. “What happened last night? You came back really late.”

“Nothing, Mom. I was just… carried away,” I said, opening the pot of pasta on the stove.

“Are you sure?” she teased, dragging out a kitchen stool like she was about to start a podcast.

“I’m serious, Mom.”

She chuckled. “Why are you cooking?”

“You know me too well, Bells,” she said with a light laugh. “Since you won’t spill, I have mine,” she added, twirling like a Disney princess. I rolled my eyes, a little smile tugging at my lips.

“I’m getting married!” she announced, a bright smile spreading across her face.

I almost spat out the water I was about to swallow. “Married?” I repeated, disbelief thick in my voice. “But you said you were never letting any man in after what Matthew did,” I reminded her, brow furrowed.

“I was just speaking out of heartbreak,” she shrugged. “Why would you take that seriously?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I definitely believed it,” I said, thinking back to the endless parade of men who’d come and gone. “I’ve lost count of how many guys have broken your heart. Okay, fine… I can count, but there were a lot.”

I ticked off the names on my fingers. “Dad, who cheated and made our life miserable for a year… I still wasn’t over that trauma. Then Paul, the ‘prince’ who needed money to ‘get back to his people’… yeah, right. You fell for that one, hook, line, and sinker.”

I rolled my eyes. “And Richard, the rich guy who promised to change our lives? Oh wait—he was married with three kids in England. Nice.”

I sighed. “Then there was Gabriel, the Spanish ‘gentleman’ who was clearly bad news. And Matthew, the chef who used you for money to fund his cooking competition… Seriously, Mom. I didn’t think you were joking when you said you were giving up on men.”

Her face fell. I could see I’d gone too far.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I didn’t mean it. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

She exhaled. “Yes, Bells. But this one—Giovanni—he’s different. He’s Italian. A billionaire. That’s why I’m practicing my pasta skills again.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, but it looked forced. I stroked her hair gently, pretending to smile back. Deep down, I wasn’t comfortable with Giovanni. I couldn’t be. Not after Dad… not after watching her piece her heart together a thousand times.

“So,” I said, forcing a light tone and mimicking an Italian accent, “tell me more about this Italiano magnifico, Mama.”

She laughed, the genuine sound easing some of the tension. “We’re having dinner this weekend at a very fancy restaurant. He’s bringing his son, too.”

“Oh, that’s… great,” I said, until she added, “Can you please come with us?”

“Oh, Mom, I don’t think I should—” I started, but then she gave me that dramatic puppy face; my mom was a walking drama series.

I didn’t really want to go on a “date” with Giovanni or whatever his name was. But… I had to admit, there was an upside. This could be my chance to get the full story on this Italian billionaire, straight from the source. Eyes, ears, and brain wide open

I groaned. “Fine.”

But deep down, a strange sense of dread settled in my chest. I didn’t know why.