Isabella's fists slammed into the punching bag, each hit echoing through the spacious gym. Her personal trainer, Marco, a tall, muscular man with a quick wit and an easy smile, watched her with a critical eye.
"Come on, Isabella," Marco called out, his voice laced with encouragement. "Put your weight behind it! You can hit harder than that."
She gritted her teeth and swung harder, the impact vibrating through her arms. "Is that better?" she panted, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.
Marco grinned. "Much better. Now, let's see some footwork. Remember, keep your guard up."
Isabella moved into a defensive stance, her feet light on the mat as she circled the bag. "You know, Marco, if this whole mafia thing doesn't work out, maybe I can go pro."
Marco laughed, shaking his head. "Oh sure, 'Isabella Marino: Boxing Champion.' I can see the headlines now."
She smirked, throwing a quick jab. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
"Definitely," Marco replied, moving in to hold the bag steady. "Just don't forget to duck. We wouldn't want that pretty face getting messed up."
Isabella rolled her eyes but followed his advice, dipping under an imaginary punch. "You know, for a tough guy, you sure do worry a lot."
"Hey, someone's gotta keep you in one piece," Marco shot back. "Besides, if you get hurt, your dad will have my head."
"True," Isabella said with a mock-serious nod. "And we can't have that. Who else would put up with me?"
Marco laughed again, the sound filling the gym. "Good point. Now, let's work on those combinations."
After another grueling fifteen minutes, Marco finally called for a break. Isabella grabbed her water bottle, chugging greedily as she leaned against the wall. The cool liquid was a welcome relief after the intense workout.
As she was catching her breath, the door to the gym opened, and Elena Marino stepped inside, her expression one of disapproval. "Isabella, what are you doing?"
Isabella sighed, setting down her water bottle. "Training, Mamma. You know I need to stay in shape."
Elena’s eyes narrowed. "This is not appropriate for a young lady. You should be focusing on more womanly duties."
Isabella rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Mamma. It's the 21st century. Women can do anything men can do."
Elena crossed her arms, her expression stern. "This is not up for debate, Isabella. You are the heiress to the Marino family. You should be preparing for that role, not wasting time in the gym."
Isabella straightened, her eyes flashing with defiance. "And part of that role is being able to defend myself. You know how dangerous things are right now."
Elena shook her head. "Your father and the men will protect you. You should focus on your education and social responsibilities."
Isabella threw her hands up in exasperation. "I can do both, Mamma. Why is it so hard for you to understand that?"
Before Elena could respond, a commotion in the hallway caught their attention. Isabella moved to the door, peeking out to see her father, Don Marino, speaking heatedly with one of his guards.
"We've had three more attacks in the past week," Don Marino was saying, his voice low but intense. "We need to tighten security even further."
The guard nodded. "Yes, Don Marino. We'll double the patrols and increase surveillance."
Isabella's blood boiled as she listened. She stepped into the hallway, her eyes blazing. "Why am I just hearing about this now?"
Don Marino turned to face her, his expression stern. "Isabella, this is not your concern."
"Not my concern?" she echoed, her voice rising. "I'm the heiress, remember? This affects me too."
"You don't need to worry about every little detail," Don Marino said, his tone firm. "That's my job."
"Your job is to keep me informed," Isabella shot back. "How am I supposed to prepare for my future if you keep me in the dark?"
Don Marino's eyes flashed with anger. "You can't fight everything in the world, Isabella. Some things are bigger and more dangerous than you can handle."
Isabella clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I can handle more than you think, Papa. I'm not a child anymore."
"You're acting like one," Don Marino retorted, his voice cold. "You need to understand that some battles are not yours to fight."
Isabella's eyes filled with frustration and hurt. "So, what am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for someone to save me?"
"You need to trust me," Don Marino said, his voice softening slightly. "I'm doing everything I can to protect you."
"But you're not letting me protect myself," Isabella argued. "I can't just stand by and do nothing."
Don Marino took a deep breath, his expression pained. "Isabella, I need you to listen to me. This is bigger than you or me. We need to be smart about this."
Isabella shook her head, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. "I can't just sit back and do nothing, Papa. I need to be involved."
"You're involved enough," Don Marino said, his voice rising. "You need to focus on your safety and let me handle the rest."
The tension in the hallway was thick, the air crackling with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Isabella stared at her father, her heart aching with the weight of his words.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice trembling with emotion. "But don't expect me to just sit around and do nothing. I'm stronger than you think, Papa."
Don Marino watched her, his expression a mix of pride and sadness. "I know you are, Isabella. That's what scares me."
With that, Isabella turned and walked away, her mind racing with frustration and anger. She needed to find a way to prove herself, to show her father that she was capable of more than he gave her credit for. The path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she was determined to face it head-on.
The game was far from over, and Isabella Marino was ready to play her part, no matter the cost.
—
Isabella paced the garden, the moonlight casting a pale glow on the manicured hedges and flowerbeds. Her mind was a whirlpool of anger and frustration. The conversation with her father had left her feeling marginalized and helpless, emotions she despised more than anything.
As she walked back and forth, the cool night air did little to calm her. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. Her instincts, honed from years of training, took over before she could think rationally. She spun around, her fist flying through the air, aimed at the intruder.
Her punch was intercepted mid-air, caught in a firm grip. Isabella looked up, her eyes meeting the piercing blue gaze she hated so much. Dominic Romano stood before her, his expression unreadable but those eyes— those damned eyes— sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
"Isabella," Dominic's deep voice resonated in the night air, tinged with a mix of amusement and annoyance.
She yanked her hand free, glaring at him. "What are you doing here, Dominic?"
He raised an eyebrow, his stance relaxed and almost mocking. "I could ask you the same thing, but it seems pretty obvious you're having a tantrum."
"Don't patronize me," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't need you treating me like a child."
Dominic smirked, his lips curling into a devilish grin. "If you stop acting like one, maybe I wouldn't."
Isabella's temper flared. "You have no idea what I'm dealing with."
Dominic shrugged, unfazed by her anger. "Enlighten me, then. Tell me all about how hard it is to be the little princess of the Marino family."
Her fists clenched at her sides, and she took a step closer, her eyes blazing with fury. "I swear, if you keep talking to me like that, I'll—"
He leaned in, his smirk widening. "You'll what? Hit me officially? I'd love to see that, darling."
The way he said "darling" made her skin crawl, but it also sent a strange thrill through her, one she was loath to acknowledge. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to punch him again. "You’re insufferable."
Dominic chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "And you’re adorable when you’re angry."
Before she could retort, the sound of a throat clearing interrupted them. Both turned to see Don Marino standing at the edge of the garden, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild irritation.
"Dominic," Don Marino said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "I see you’ve found Isabella."
Dominic straightened, his demeanor shifting instantly to one of respect. "Don Marino. I apologize for the interruption. Are you ready for the meeting?"
Isabella's heart sank. Another meeting, another instance of being sidelined. She turned to her father, her voice tinged with hurt. "Papa, am I not involved again?"
Don Marino shook his head, his expression firm but regretful. "Not this time, Isabella. This meeting is... sensitive."
Before she could argue, Dominic turned to her, a mocking smile on his lips. "These talks aren’t for little kittens," he said, chuckling.
Her blood boiled at his condescension. "I'm not a child," she shot back, her voice trembling with anger.
Dominic's smile only widened. "No, you're not. But you're still not ready for this."
Don Marino placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder, his touch both comforting and firm. "We’ll talk later, Isabella. I promise."
She watched helplessly as her father and Dominic walked away, heading towards the mansion. The sense of exclusion, of being left out of decisions that directly impacted her, gnawed at her insides. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, a silent vow forming in her mind.
This wasn't over. She would find a way to prove herself, to show them all that she was more than capable of handling the dangers that threatened her family. Even if it meant facing down Dominic Romano, the man who infuriated and intrigued her in equal measure.
As the night deepened, Isabella stood alone in the garden, the cool breeze doing little to soothe the fire raging within her. The game had changed, and she was determined to play her part, no matter the cost.
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