Chapter Eleven: A Storm Within

Antonio leaned back in his leather chair, the coolness of the whiskey on the rocks providing some small relief to the heat rising in his chest. His tie hung loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his hair a disheveled mess as his fingers ran through it in frustration. His feet were propped up on the desk, a sign of his rare, fleeting moments of weakness. His office, usually pristine and organized, felt like a battleground—papers strewn across the desk, documents untouched, a reminder of all the chaos swirling inside him.

The glass in his hand trembled slightly as he took another slow sip, his thoughts consumed by one person.

Isabella Carlos.

Her name echoed in his mind, repeating itself like a broken record. He couldn’t escape it. Not after the way his son had taken an interest in her, the way Luca’s innocent questions had made him feel like his entire world was about to collapse. His son had barely known her, but in a matter of hours, he had already formed some kind of innocent attachment, speaking about her like she was some kind of fairytale princess. And for the first time in years, Antonio was scared.

“Cazzo...” he muttered, his Italian words full of venom, as he let his head fall back against the chair. (Shit...)

What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? It wasn’t like he had ever given a damn about any woman, not since Valentina had ripped his heart apart. But now, now, everything had changed. He had kept his walls up, his defenses impenetrable, for so long. And yet, Isabella Carlos, with her innocent smile and warmth, had somehow managed to slip under his skin.

Fuck this. Fuck everything.

Antonio took another long gulp of whiskey, the burn going down his throat, but it didn’t help. It never helped. He tossed the glass onto the desk, the amber liquid splashing out. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Isabella Carlos.

His hand clenched into a fist, the veins in his arm tightening as his mind replayed the image of her. Beautiful, yes, impossibly beautiful, but that was the least of it. She was warm, too. She was kind, something that made his insides twist in disgust. She was everything he had stopped believing in, everything he had sworn off. Love, trust, kindness—they were all weak, fragile things, meant to be shattered by the realities of life. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

And now, his son, his own flesh and blood, was starting to idolize her.

“Bambino stupido…” Antonio growled under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. (Stupid child…)

What the hell was Luca doing? How could he be so damn naive? Antonio had spent years building walls around his heart, teaching himself to be cold, to shut out any emotions that might make him weak. And here was his son, with his innocent curiosity, asking about Isabella like she was some fairy godmother. How could a little boy, only a few years old, get so fixated on her in just one meeting? He had barely even spoken to her for more than five minutes.

“Non è possibile!” Antonio gritted his teeth, his fist slamming onto the desk, rattling the papers. (It’s not possible!)

He leaned forward, his elbows digging into the wood, his hands running through his hair again as he tried to make sense of the chaos. He wasn’t a man who was used to confusion. He was a man of control, of power. He had made his empire by knowing exactly what to do, when to do it. But now, all of that—everything he had built—felt so... fragile.

He could still see Luca’s innocent face, the way his little boy had looked up at him with those big eyes, showing him the pictures of Isabella on his tablet. He had been so damn proud of himself, like he had found some treasure. "Look, Daddy," Luca had said, holding up the tablet with those pictures of her. "She’s really pretty." And there was a sense of wonder in his voice, something that made Antonio’s chest tighten.

The fucking irony of it all hit him like a freight train.

How could Luca be so innocent? So pure, so untouched by the cruel realities of the world? Antonio wanted to protect him, to keep him away from the dangers he had faced. He didn’t want Luca to fall for someone like Isabella, someone who could make him weak, who could break his heart in the same way Valentina had done to him.

Antonio’s thoughts spiraled again, the memories of his failed marriage to Valentina flooding back like a tide of anger and betrayal. He had loved her once, believed in her once, and what had she done? She had torn his world apart, slept with his closest friends, and left him with nothing but a cold, broken heart. That was the only truth Antonio knew about women. They couldn’t be trusted. They would always leave, always betray you.

And now, his son was asking about Isabella, was fascinated by her, like she was some kind of savior. Antonio squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding as the storm inside him raged.

Dio mio,he thought, running his fingers through his hair again, pulling at it in frustration. (My God…)

Why was this happening? Why did he feel this way? He didn’t trust her. He didn’t want to trust her. He didn’t need another woman in his life, especially not one who could make his son’s heart flutter like this. The more he thought about it, the more he hated the idea of Isabella being involved in their lives. His life was messy enough already.

But it was his son’s innocence that hurt the most. Luca was too young to understand the dangers. To understand what women like Isabella could do. And it wasn’t just the fact that Isabella could break Luca’s heart—it was that Antonio couldn’t stand the idea of her getting too close to him. She had no place in their world.

“She’s too fucking pretty for this,” Antonio muttered bitterly, staring at the empty glass in his hand. “And Luca, that damn kid, he’s falling for her like some lovesick puppy.” He slammed his hand down on the desk again, making the glass wobble. (Damn it, she’s too fucking pretty for this.)

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t control Luca’s feelings, couldn’t stop him from having some crush on a woman he had barely met. But the thought of Isabella’s warmth, her kindness, her soft smile—it made his skin crawl.

She’ll hurt him.

That was the thought that kept racing through his mind, a cold, hard certainty that made him want to break something. He had seen it before. He had been there. Women, no matter how pure they seemed, always had the power to destroy. They destroyed men, they destroyed families, they destroyed everything.

And Isabella... she was no different. She would break Luca. She would break him in ways Antonio couldn’t protect him from.

Another sip of whiskey, another attempt to drown the thoughts, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. Antonio’s fingers gripped the edge of his desk, his nails digging into the wood. He wanted to scream, to shout, to lash out at the world, at everything that had led him here.

He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to feel. But here he was, struggling with emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

The words hung in the air, unanswered, as Antonio sat in his office, his thoughts clouded and his heart torn. Isabella was too close to his world, too close to Luca. And the longer she lingered in his mind, the more he feared what she would do to him, to his son, to the fragile empire he had built.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

And it pissed him off more than anything else in the world.