Page 43 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

But I don’t.

Instead, I square my shoulders, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Fine.”

Dominic’s brows lift slightly. “Fine?”

I exhale. “But if you do this, I have one condition.”

His smirk returns, sharper this time. “I don’t take conditions, Isabella.”

I can feel Nico and Oliver’s eyes on us, their reserved observation pressing down on me. Nobody challenges Dominic Castellano—not without consequences. His word is law, his authority absolute. And yet, here I am, standing my ground, daring to push back against him. I know I’m not the only one who can feel the almost electric energy in the air. Oliver watcheswith quiet amusement as if entertained by the rare sight of someone not immediately folding under Dominic’s command. Nico, on the other hand, shifts slightly, uneasily, but I can sense the wariness in his expressions.

This doesn’t bother me. I lift my chin, refusing to let him intimidate me. “Too bad. If my painting is going up for auction, I want to be there.”

Nico exhales through his nose, already seeing the argument coming.

Oliver chuckles, the amusement in his eyes sharp and knowing.

Dominic’s gaze sharpens. “No.”

I step closer, refusing to back down. “You want Samuel to take the bait? Let me be there. Let me see it.”

“You’ll be in danger. Especially if anyone recognizes you from the pier. They all saw your face, they know what you look like!”

I don’t waver. “And you won’t be?”

At this, his hand stiffens around his glass, the muscles in his forearm flexing. He’s pissed, but I can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing his options.

Finally, he exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face like he already regrets what he’s about to say.

“You’ll stay close to me. And I mean close. I don’t want you sneaking around or even going to the ladies' room alone,” he says, and I roll my eyes at him. This man is unbelievable.

But when I look at him again, I can tell it’s not a request, it’s a command. And there’s nothing I can say to change his mind. I have to be careful of which battles are worth fighting for so I nod.

I meet his sharp gaze, “Deal.”

Dominic exhales again, slow and heavy, like this is a mistake. Like he knows I’ll be more trouble than I’m worth. His fingers tighten around the crystal glass in his hand. I think he might tell me to get out, to leave it alone. But he doesn’t. He just watches me, his eyes darkening with resolve.

Oliver adjusts the cuffs of his suit, his smirk never faltering. “Well, this just got a whole lot more interesting.” His gaze flicks to Dominic, then back to me, assessing. Calculating. “I’ll handle the necessary arrangements. Expect a guest list within the next twenty-four hours.”

Dominic barely acknowledges him, his focus still locked on me, but Oliver doesn’t seem to care. He gives a slow nod before turning toward the door.

Nico lingers a second longer, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he’s trying to decide whether to say something. But in the end, he just exhales through his nose, shaking his head before following Oliver out.

The door clicks shut behind them.

Silence.

Dominic doesn’t move. Neither do I.

The intensity of everything we just agreed to linger between us—thick and charged.

Finally, I break the quiet. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”

His brow lifts. “Like what?”

“Like you regret letting me be part of this.”

He leans back against his desk, rolling the whiskey glass between his fingers. “I do.”

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