Page 17 of Marriage of Revenge

"Just here for business," I reply coolly, not giving him the satisfaction. But both of us know there's so much more at stake.

He leans in, voice barely above a whisper. "We all have our price, Antonio. Even dancers."

Suppressing the urge to punch him, I simply nod. "Enjoy the show, Müller. But remember, not everything on display is up for grabs."

He chuckles, "Tonight will be interesting."

I nod, "Tonight is the auction. It’s about money and power. Tomorrow? If you make it to the top three… Well, you might not breathe to live another day. And you'd do well to remember your place."

Tonight is going to be a spectacle of glitz and glamour. But tomorrow, the gladiator returns to the arena, not for sport but for war. The lines are drawn, the players in position. And Isabella, beautiful, dancing Isabella, is right at the center of it all.

This isn't only about revenge. It's about reclaiming what was taken from me.

And Satan help anyone who stands in my way.

CHAPTER 8—ISABELLA

It's now or never.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I tell Georgio, channeling my inner spoiled princess—a role I haven't played since before that night. The night I learned that my words have more power than I thought.

And that power can be deadly.

The light blue tulle monstrosity they've squeezed me into has about a thousand layers, all of them conspiring to suffocate me. Each breath is a negotiation with the corset top, but Georgio doesn't seem to notice I'm turning into a very expensive fish out of water.

“Couldn’t you have gone upstairs?” He doesn’t even look at me, scanning the area, barking orders at the men surrounding us.

Not one woman.

“I didn’t need to go upstairs,” I whine, leaning into my role.

Paola has hidden my scars with foundation. She put blush on me and added extensions to my hair that I want to rip away. But I didn’t say a word. Instead, I thanked her.

Thanked. Her.

For making me into this doll that I’m not. For erasing the scars that remind me I’m stronger than I ever thought possible. Because sometimes you don’t have another choice.

But seeing a man shot in front of me made me keep my mouth shut. I didn’t want her to get stabbed or get her throat slashed.

So, I thanked her and as she left, she whispered in my ear, “Downstairs bathroom. Danger. Help. Naomi.”

As soon as she uttered my best friend’s name, my heart jumped even higher in my throat.

It could be a trap.

After all, she could have told the guard dogs surrounding me… or maybe Naomi is in danger.

I haven’t heard from her since her message earlier. And she had promised she’d give me information about what she overhears.

But nothing.

So, here I am, begging my guard dog to let me pee.

Of course, he’s following me inside the luxurious bathroom.

“Do you mind?” I ask him as I undo the tulle skirt that’s attached. “I can’t do that in the stall.” M tone is biting. “You saw, there’s no one…”

He checks underneath the stall one more time before narrowing his eyes. “You have five minutes or I’m carrying you to that auction not caring what you look like, got it?”

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