Married to the Wrong CEO

Chapter 22: Guila’s Advice

’I’ll just put it in my mouth!’ Isadora thought, her chest rising and falling with nervous breaths as she leaned forward. Using one trembling hand, she guided him toward her lips, sliding him into her mouth with slow determination. But she had barely taken him in when a firm hand suddenly gripped her hair.

Dante’s fingers tangled in her strands, pulling her head back with his cock still between her lips. For a split second, her mind spun. Was this going to turn out like the videos she had forced herself to watch? Would he lose the calm, stoic mask he always wore and moan loudly as he thrust into her mouth, dragging her head forward and back at his pace?

The very thought both terrified and strangely exhilarated her. Heat stirred low in her belly, a confusing warmth that clashed with the dread tightening her chest. But instead of thrusting into her like she imagined, Dante pulled her head back further—more gently than she expected. The movement pried her mouth wider than felt natural until, finally, he slid himself out.

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes locking onto his face. She had expected hunger, or perhaps a shadow of satisfaction. Instead, what she found was... annoyance. His jaw tightened, his expression caught somewhere between irritation and restraint, almost like a man holding back from something more volatile.

The silence stretched, suffocating. Then his voice came, deeper than usual and just slightly hoarse.

"You bit me."

The words hit her like ice water. Isadora’s eyes widened, panic sparking behind them as confusion washed over her.

’Wasn’t that... wasn’t that what I was supposed to do?’ The thought flashed through her mind in desperation. She didn’t dare give it voice. Not under the intensity of Mr. Bellini’s gaze, which held her like a vice.

She had bitten the tip, the reddened part, believing it would give him pleasure. That was what she had seen in the videos—the women doing it, the men groaning as if it drove them wild. But clearly, she had been wrong.

His grip in her hair tightened briefly as he pulled her further back, sliding completely out of her mouth. She gasped softly when she saw a trace of blood glistening on him. Shock rooted her in place. But what unsettled her even more was the realization that he had grown harder—larger—even after that.

Her heart thundered painfully in her chest, each beat echoing against her ribs. His hand remained in her hair, holding her still as his eyes bore into hers with a look so piercing she couldn’t turn away even if she tried.

Her face burned as his gaze lowered. It stopped on her chest, on the swell of her breasts, framed only by her C-cup bra. Her skin prickled under the weight of his attention, every part of her feeling far too exposed.

"I—I can..." Isadora tried to speak, her words weak, but before she could finish, he abruptly released her.

Dante turned from her without another word, his movements deliberate, controlled. He crossed to a walk-in closet and pulled a robe free, slipping it over his shoulders. He didn’t bother to tie the strings, leaving his sculpted chest and the hard lines of his abdomen in full view. The sight of his muscles rippling with each step made her throat tighten.

"I’ll add a sex coach to your list of instructors," he said, his tone cool, detached, as though her humiliation were nothing more than another administrative detail. He walked back to the chair behind his desk, already prepared to return to his work.

"You can leave."

The dismissal was sharp, cold. Less a suggestion, more a command.

Isadora blinked, stunned. Her lips parted as if she might protest, but no words came. Deep down she knew there was nothing she could say. Her body had betrayed her. Her mouth had said one thing, yet her actions had shown just how little she knew.

Rising quickly to her feet, she made for the door. Her hand touched the knob, but hesitation rooted her briefly in place. Should she apologize for biting him? Should she at least try to explain herself? The thought twisted in her stomach, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She turned the handle and left without another word, closing the door firmly behind her.

It wasn’t until she stepped into the hallway that realization struck her. She had left without her clothes. Her nightwear and pants were still on the floor of Dante’s room.

Mortification flushed through her as she glanced down at herself. She was standing in nothing but her bra and underwear. A rush of heat filled her face. She couldn’t go back—not after that. Instead, she bolted, nearly running down the hall as she made straight for her room.

She pushed the door open and slipped inside, only to freeze.

Guila was there.

The older woman stood calmly in the room, her sharp eyes immediately flicking over Isadora’s state of undress. Isadora’s entire body stiffened, panic rising, and without a word she darted toward her closet. She yanked something over herself, trying desperately to cover her exposed skin.

"Do you need something?" Isadora asked finally, unable to keep the wariness from her voice. After what had happened with the maid earlier that morning—the attempt on her life—her caution was more than justified.

"I came to drop off the materials some of your instructors listed," Guila replied, her tone neutral. She gestured toward the table, where a neat stack of books and supplies sat waiting. "You weren’t in, and I didn’t know if you’d be back tonight, so I intended to leave them here."

Isadora exhaled, trying to calm her racing heart. She nodded quickly, though her cheeks burned hotter, not just from the encounter with Dante but also from the unspoken implication in Guila’s words. The older woman clearly knew where she had been.

"Thank you, Guila," Isadora said softly.

The woman inclined her head in acknowledgment and turned toward the door. For a moment, it seemed she would leave in silence. But just as her hand touched the handle, she paused.

Her posture stiffened, and she seemed to weigh her words before speaking.

"I don’t know why Dante asked you to stay here," Guila said finally, her voice quieter, gentler than Isadora had ever heard it. "But it’s clearly not love. I’d recommend finishing your task... and leaving."

Isadora’s breath caught. She blinked, startled not just by the words but by the unexpected concern beneath them. She had always thought Guila kept to herself, never meddling in anyone else’s affairs. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

"I won’t speak on this matter again," Guila continued. "I just felt it needed to be said." She dipped her head slightly in a small bow. Her hair, streaked with gray, was pinned neatly into a bun. Though wrinkles now marked her face, it was easy to imagine the beauty she must have been in her youth. freewebnovёl.ƈom

"Goodnight."

Before Isadora could respond, the door closed gently behind her.

Silence filled the room once more.

The embarrassment that had threatened to suffocate her earlier seemed to ebb away, replaced by the weight of Guila’s warning.

"I can’t leave though... even if I wanted to," Isadora whispered to herself, sinking heavily onto her bed.

Her eyes drifted toward the ceiling, her thoughts already shifting. Tomorrow, she decided, she would reach out to her family. She needed to know they were safe. Only then could she breathe a little easier.