Isabella’s stilettos echoed in the cold, marble corridor of Alex’s private office suite. The air was charged, crackling with tension that mirrored the storm raging outside. Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights blurred behind rivulets of water.
Alex sat behind his obsidian desk, a predator cloaked in a custom black suit, his tie loose around his neck. His piercing gray eyes pinned Isabella in place as she stepped inside. The collar around her neck gleamed faintly under the dim light, a silent declaration of who she belonged to.
“You’re late,” he drawled, his voice a dangerous melody that made her stomach clench.
Isabella swallowed, her heart racing. “Traffic was brutal.”
“No excuses, little one. You know the rules.” He leaned back in his chair, his posture exuding dominance.
Her breath hitched as he stood, closing the distance between them in three measured strides.
“Hands on the desk,” he ordered.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she obeyed, her palms pressing against the cool surface.
“You’ve been testing me all week, Bella. You think I don’t notice when you deliberately push my buttons?” His voice dropped, dangerously low. “What is it you want, hmm? My attention? My punishment?”
Her lips parted, but no sound came. She couldn’t admit what she truly wanted.
Alex’s fingers trailed down her spine, igniting a fire under her skin. The silk blouse she wore was a barrier she suddenly wished wasn’t there.
“You play this little game of rebellion,” he continued, his tone mocking, “but we both know how this ends.”
Her voice finally found its way out. “Maybe I’m tired of being your toy, Alex. Ever think about that?”
His laughter was dark and soft, like velvet wrapping around her neck. “A toy? Is that what you think you are?”
He spun her around, caging her between his body and the desk. The storm outside felt distant compared to the storm brewing in his gaze.
“Let me make something clear,” he said, his hand cupping her jaw firmly. “You’re not a toy. You’re mine. Body, mind, and soul. And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you.”
Her defiance flared, though her knees felt weak. “What about the women you keep parading around? Am I supposed to just turn a blind eye?”
His grip tightened ever so slightly. “They mean nothing. They’re… distractions.”
“And me?” she challenged, her voice trembling. “What am I, Alex? A distraction too?”
He paused, his silence more telling than any words could be. For the first time, uncertainty flickered in his expression.
“I’ve told you before,” he said, his voice a controlled growl. “You’re my wife. My only wife. That contract binds you to me as much as it binds me to you.”
Her laugh was bitter, her tears threatening to spill. “A contract doesn’t make a marriage, Alex. It’s nothing but paper. What about love? Trust? Do those even exist in your world?”
He said nothing, his jaw tightening. She shoved him back, her hands trembling.
“Say something!” she demanded, her voice breaking. “Tell me I’m more than just your possession, or let me walk away!”
Before he could respond, a knock at the door shattered the tension.
“Boss, it’s urgent,” came the muffled voice of one of Alex’s men.
Alex’s expression hardened, the moment lost. He turned away, leaving Isabella trembling with unspent rage and heartbreak.
As he opened the door to deal with his visitor, he glanced back at her. “Stay. We’re not done.”
But as the door closed behind him, Isabella’s resolve solidified.
Not done? Oh, we’re done, Alex, she thought bitterly. You just don’t know it yet.
Isabella grabbed her bag, her fingers brushing against a folder hidden inside. Inside were the finalized divorce papers she hadn’t yet shown him.
This time, it wouldn’t just be words.
With one last glance at the stormy night, she slipped out the side door, leaving the weight of Alex’s presence behind her.
But even as she walked away, her heart clenched with an ache she couldn’t quite name.
“Boss,” his lieutenant whispered. “There’s a situation. It’s about your wife.”
Alex’s eyes darkened as he gritted his teeth. “What about her?”
The answer would change everything.
Isabella’s heels clicked against the polished marble floor, each step a slow rebellion against the leash of dominance Alex held tight. The private lounge of Ricci Tower oozed opulence-dark wood paneling, dim golden light, and a faint hint of cigars. The air felt suffocating yet intoxicating.
Alex lounged on the leather couch, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the taut line of his neck. A tumbler of scotch rested in his hand, swirling lazily as if time bent to his will. His icy gaze pinned her in place.
“You’re late,” he said, voice like a razor slicing through velvet.
“I had a meeting,” Isabella replied, sharp but measured. She knew better than to provoke him too far.
His jaw tightened. “Next time, I suggest you reconsider your priorities.”
She bit her lip, torn between defiance and compliance. His power was a prison she hated-and craved.
“You’re not my whole world, Alex.”
He chuckled darkly, setting his glass down with a decisive clink. In one swift motion, he stood, towering over her, his presence suffocating yet magnetic.
“No, but I’m the one who owns you, Bella.” He grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. “Every breath, every thought, every damn inch of you belongs to me. Don’t forget it.”
Her pulse quickened, betrayal and desire coiling in her chest. She hated how his words set her skin ablaze, but denying it felt impossible.
The silence stretched, heavy with tension. Alex took a step back, his eyes scanning her like a predator evaluating prey.
“Take off your coat,” he commanded, voice low but firm.
Isabella hesitated, her heart pounding. “Here? Now?”
“Yes,” he replied, unyielding. “Now.”
Her fingers fumbled at the buttons, the weight of his gaze stripping her faster than her own hands could. As the coat slipped off her shoulders, revealing the silky black dress beneath, she felt his approval, though his expression remained unreadable.
“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise sending a shiver down her spine.
The words were a drug she couldn’t resist. Despite her resentment, her body betrayed her, responding to his every move.
He stepped closer, his hand brushing her bare arm. “You like this, don’t you? Being at my mercy.”
Her breath hitched. “I hate you,” she whispered, but her trembling voice betrayed her.
“No, you don’t.” He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her ear. “You hate how much you want me.”
The tension between them ignited like a lit fuse. Alex’s hand slid to her waist, pulling her against him. His grip was firm, possessive, unyielding.
“You think you can fight me, Bella? You can’t even fight yourself.”
Her palms pressed against his chest, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge. The heat radiating from him seared through her resolve.
“I’m not your toy,” she said, her voice stronger now.
He smirked, tilting her chin up with two fingers. “No, you’re my obsession.”
Before she could retort, his lips crashed against hers, a brutal claim that left no room for resistance. She melted against him, her defiance shattering like glass.
The kiss was a war-his dominance, her rebellion, clashing in a storm of passion. When he finally pulled back, his breath was as ragged as hers.
“Say it,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.
“Say what?” she asked, still dazed.
“That you’re mine.”
She shook her head, her eyes blazing. “I’ll never say it.”
The moment shattered as the door swung open, and one of Alex’s men stepped in, looking nervous.
“Boss, we’ve got a problem.”
Alex turned, his expression darkening. “This better be important.”
“It’s Giovanni,” the man said. “He’s making moves on our west-side territories. He’s got men stationed near the docks.”
Isabella saw the shift in Alex-a cold, calculated mask falling into place. The passionate man who had just kissed her was gone, replaced by the ruthless mafia boss.
“Tell Marco to mobilize. I’ll handle this personally,” Alex said, his tone lethal.
The man nodded and left, leaving the room charged with an even darker energy.
Alex turned back to Isabella, his eyes stormy. “This isn’t over.”
She crossed her arms, regaining some of her composure. “It never is with you, is it?”
He smirked, a dangerous glint in his eye. “You’re learning, Bella. But don’t get too comfortable. You’ll always be under my control.”
As Alex stormed out, Isabella sank onto the couch, her mind racing. The taste of his kiss lingered on her lips, but so did the bitterness of his control.
Her phone buzzed, breaking her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and froze.
A single message flashed across the screen: “You’re not safe with him. Meet me tonight. – G”
Her heart thundered. Giovanni.
Isabella gripped the phone tighter, her thoughts spiraling. If Alex found out…
The sound of his voice echoed in her mind: “You’ll always be under my control.”
But maybe, just maybe, she was ready to break free.