Third Person POV
The air in the lavish penthouse was thick, suffocating even, as if the walls themselves were eavesdropping. Isabella stood by the towering window, her arms crossed, staring out at the glittering city skyline that mocked her with its freedom. Alessandro was behind her, silent, but his presence was as sharp as a blade against her skin.
“Are you gonna say something, or just keep looming like a damn gargoyle?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a whip.
Alessandro leaned back against the leather armchair, a glass of bourbon cradled in his hand. The amber liquid swirled lazily as he tilted it, his smirk infuriatingly calm. “I prefer gargoyle to fool, which is what I’d be if I let you run wild.”
She spun around, fire blazing in her eyes. “Wild? Don’t flatter yourself, Alex. I don’t owe you a damn thing beyond what’s in that contract.”
His smirk faltered for a moment, his jaw tightening. “You think the contract is what binds us?” His voice was low, dangerous. “You’re more naive than I thought.”
Isabella took a step forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor, the sound echoing like a taunt. “Enlighten me, then. What is it that binds us? Because it sure as hell isn’t love.”
Alessandro rose from his chair, setting the glass down with deliberate precision. He was towering, every inch of him radiating control, but there was a flicker of something raw in his gaze-something he quickly masked. “You can deny it all you want,” he said, his voice a slow, deliberate drawl. “But I see it. The way your breath hitches when I’m close. The way your body betrays you.”
Her laugh was bitter, a sharp contrast to the heat creeping up her neck. “Keep telling yourself that, Daddy.” She spat the word like venom, but it only seemed to amuse him.
“That’s right, princess,” he said, stepping closer, his voice a growl now. “Say it again. Remind yourself who owns you.”
Her chest heaved, her heart pounding as she fought the pull he had on her. She hated him, but God help her, she hated herself more for the way his words stirred something dark and primal inside her. “You don’t own me,” she bit out, her voice trembling despite her best effort.
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. The tension snapped, electric, as his breath fanned against her cheek. “Keep lying to yourself, Bella,” he murmured. “But you’ll break, one way or another.”
The door to the penthouse slammed open, and Luca, Alessandro’s most trusted lieutenant, strode in without preamble. “Boss,” he said, his tone urgent. “We’ve got a problem.”
Alessandro didn’t release Isabella’s wrist but turned his head slightly. “Speak.”
“The Armand shipment,” Luca began, his words clipped. “Intercepted. Someone tipped off the authorities.”
Alessandro’s grip on Isabella tightened reflexively, and she winced. “You’re hurting me,” she hissed, but he didn’t loosen his hold.
His eyes bore into hers, dark and accusing. “Do you know anything about this?”
Her brows furrowed in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You think I’d sabotage your dirty little empire?”
Luca shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware he was witnessing something he shouldn’t. “Boss, we don’t have time for-”
“Find out who did it,” Alessandro barked, his voice razor-sharp. “And lock down the rest of the shipment. No mistakes.”
Luca nodded, retreating quickly, leaving the two of them alone again. Alessandro released Isabella’s wrist, but the accusation lingered in the air. “If I find out you had anything to do with this-”
“You’ll what?” she challenged, stepping closer, her chin tilted defiantly. “Kill me? Punish me? Go ahead, Alex. Show me who you really are.”
He stared at her, his chest heaving, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on them both. “You don’t want to see that side of me,” he warned, his voice dangerously soft.
“Maybe I do,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “Maybe I need to.”
The phone in Alessandro’s pocket buzzed, breaking the charged silence. He pulled it out, his eyes narrowing as he read the message. His entire demeanor shifted-cold, calculated, lethal.
“What is it?” Isabella asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
He didn’t answer, but his lips curled into a grim smile. “Looks like our little rat wasn’t working alone.”
Her stomach dropped at his words, and for the first time that night, real fear flickered in her eyes. “What does that mean?” she whispered.
He turned to her, his gaze piercing. “It means,” he said slowly, “that this game just got a whole lot more interesting.”
And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing there, her mind racing with questions and her heart pounding with dread.
The clock in Alex’s office ticked with an irritating precision, each second slicing through the silence. Isabella stood by the window, her back turned, her shoulders tense. She was trying to seem unaffected, but Alex could read her body language like a crime scene-it was all evidence of something she wasn’t saying.
The air between them was colder than the glass walls surrounding his empire. Outside, the city sparkled like a promise of freedom she wasn’t allowed to take.
Alex leaned against his desk, swirling a glass of whiskey, his eyes never leaving her. “You’re hiding something,” he said, his voice like gravel-rough, sharp, and deadly calm.
She didn’t flinch, but her hand tightened around her phone. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Liar.” The word was a whip, cutting through her fragile defense.
Her head turned slightly, just enough for him to catch the flicker of guilt in her eyes. That was all he needed.
“Who was he?” Alex asked, his voice soft, almost conversational. But Isabella knew better-there was nothing casual about Alessandro Ricci.
“No one.” Her reply was quick, too quick.
Alex placed the glass on the desk with a deliberate clink. His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he took a step closer. “Don’t insult me, Isabella. You met someone. Who?”
She crossed her arms, her defense mechanism kicking in. “Do you listen to yourself? You’re paranoid, Alex. You don’t own me.”
His laugh was dark, humorless. “Oh, bella. That’s where you’re wrong. I do own you. Every inch. Every breath.”
Isabella’s lips parted to retort, but no words came. He was too close now, his presence suffocating, his cologne a cruel reminder of the chains she willingly wore.
“I saw the text,” Alex said, pulling his phone from his pocket and flashing the damning message. A man’s name. A location. Midnight.
Her stomach dropped, but her face remained impassive. “You’re having me followed?”
“Call it due diligence.” He stepped back, his smile icy. “So, do you want to explain, or should I make the introductions myself?”
Isabella took a deep breath, her hands trembling despite her efforts to stay calm. “He’s my client.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “At a hotel? At midnight? What kind of law are you practicing these days?”
Her temper flared, and she turned to face him fully. “Not everything is a game, Alex! Some of us have real lives outside your twisted little world.”
His expression hardened, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer. “Don’t test me, Isabella. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
She yanked her hand away, her eyes blazing. “And what about you? Hiding behind your money, your power, your damn contracts? You think that makes you untouchable?”
Alex’s voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “I don’t think it. I know it.”
The tension between them snapped as the office door burst open, one of Alex’s men rushing in.
“Boss,” the man said, his face pale. “We’ve got a problem.”
Alex’s eyes didn’t leave Isabella’s, but his tone turned lethal. “What kind of problem?”
The man hesitated, glancing at Isabella.
“Say it,” Alex barked.
“There’s been a breach. Someone leaked your deal with Armand to the press.”
Isabella’s face betrayed nothing, but Alex saw the flicker of recognition. It was all he needed to confirm his worst suspicion.
“Get out,” Alex ordered, his voice low, deadly.
The man left, closing the door behind him.
Alex stepped closer to Isabella, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me the truth, Isabella. Were you involved?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her silence louder than any confession.
“Careful, bella,” he said, his voice a dark promise. “You’re walking a fine line, and I won’t catch you when you fall.”
She met his gaze, unflinching, and for the first time, Alex felt the sting of betrayal.
The silence stretched between them until he finally spoke, his voice cold and final.
“Pack your things. You’re coming home with me tonight.”
Isabella’s pulse quickened as she whispered, “And if I say no?”
Alex’s smirk was cruel, his words a dagger. “That’s not an option, sweetheart. You made your choice the moment you signed that contract.”