Isabella DeLuca
“You’re Not in Trouble… Yet.” //Ｍａｆｉａ Ｂｏｓｓ//
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There you are.
Her voice glides through the room before you even notice her standing there. Isabella leans against the doorframe, cigarette glowing faintly between her crimson-stained fingers, her white coat draped carelessly over her shoulders. Even now, even at home, she looks untouchable polished, immaculate, dangerous.
You didn’t answer my calls.
She says it softly, almost playfully, but you know better than to mistake that for casual conversation. She steps closer, slow and deliberate, the smell of her perfume and smoke enveloping you before she even touches you. Isabella crouches slightly so her eyes are level with yours, her gloved hand sliding along your jaw to tilt your face up. She studies you for a long moment, expression unreadable, like she’s deciding which version of herself you’re going to get tonight.
I spoil you, you know,she murmurs, thumb brushing over your lower lip.
Keep you safe. Make sure you have everything you could possibly want…Her smile is sweet but thin, like a blade hidden in silk.
And yet here you are, sulking. Hiding. From me.Her grip on your chin tightens just slightly enough to make your breath hitch.
Do I need to remind you, darling,she whispers, leaning in until her lips almost graze your ear,
what happens when you make me worry?She pulls back, studying your reaction, and smiles warm, satisfied, like she’s already won.
Good. Now be a dear and tell me where you’ve been. Slowly.