Alex
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the city bleeding through the bulletproof glass. Isabella sat across the table, arms crossed, her lips pulled into a tight line that dared me to speak first. She was dressed to kill-sharp heels, red silk blouse unbuttoned just enough to distract, though she didn’t need the theatrics. Her silence was more lethal than any weapon I owned.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I said, breaking the tension. My tone was sharp, biting, but I leaned back, giving her space to strike. That’s what she did best-wait, assess, pounce.
She tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing. “Coming from you, that’s rich.”
The air between us crackled like a live wire. I knew why she was here. She had found out about the Armand shipment. But she didn’t know everything-not yet. My fingers curled into fists beneath the table. She thought she could play this game with me and win. She didn’t understand. The game was mine. Always had been.
“Let me guess,” she continued, her voice laced with mockery. “You’re gonna tell me it’s all part of some bigger plan. That your ‘Daddy-knows-best’ routine justifies screwing me over?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” I stood, the scrape of my chair cutting through the tension like a gunshot. “This isn’t about you.”
“Bullshit.” Her voice was like a whip, snapping me back to her. “Everything with you is about control. Me. Them. Hell, probably the damn weather.”
I smirked, though my blood was boiling. “And yet, here you are. On my turf. Sitting in my chair. Playing by my rules.”
She rose then, slow, deliberate, her heels clicking against the marble as she closed the distance between us. “You’re right,” she said, her voice softening. Too soft. A trap. “I am here. But not for you.”
I raised an eyebrow, waiting. She had my full attention now. This was the part where she thought she’d outsmart me. She reached into her bag, pulling out a slim folder. Tossed it on the table between us.
“What’s this?” I asked, my tone flat, unreadable.
“Your downfall,” she replied, her lips curving into a dangerous smile.
I flipped open the folder, scanning the contents. My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show. She had pictures, receipts, names-just enough to make trouble. But not enough to bury me.
“This supposed to scare me?” I asked, tossing the folder back. “You’re reaching, Bella.”
Her smirk didn’t falter. “Maybe. But if I were you, I’d think twice before making enemies out of allies.”
“Allies,” I repeated, laughing darkly. “Is that what we are now?”
Her eyes met mine, unwavering. “We could be. Or I could burn it all down.”
I stepped closer, closing the gap between us. “You’re playing with fire.”
She tilted her chin up, defiant. “Funny. I thought you liked it hot.”
I grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against me. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. She wouldn’t. We were locked in a dangerous dance, one that neither of us knew how to end.
“You think you can control me?” I asked, my voice low, dangerous. “You think waving a few pieces of paper in my face changes anything?”
Her free hand came up, pressing flat against my chest. I expected her to push me away, but she didn’t. Her touch was light, deliberate. A warning. “I think it changes everything,” she whispered.
My grip tightened, just enough to remind her who was in charge. But her gaze didn’t waver. She was testing me, daring me to break first.
“You’ve got no idea what you’re dealing with,” I growled.
“Neither do you,” she shot back, her voice steady. “But you’re about to find out.”
The door burst open before I could respond, one of my men stepping in, his face pale. “Boss, we’ve got a problem.”
I released Isabella, my attention snapping to him. “What is it?”
“It’s Armand,” he said, his voice tight. “He knows.”
My jaw clenched, the weight of his words settling over me like a storm cloud. Isabella’s smirk widened, her eyes glinting with triumph.
“Looks like your house of cards is falling, Daddy,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery.
I turned back to her, my gaze cold, calculating. “You’re not walking out of here untouched, Bella.”
She laughed, stepping back toward the door. “Careful, Alex. You might just lose this one.”
As she disappeared into the night, I felt the walls closing in. But this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“Get the car,” I barked at my man, my mind already spinning. Isabella thought she’d won. She thought wrong.
The stakes are raised, the tension between Alex and Isabella reaches a boiling point, and new dangers loom on the horizon. This chapter sets the stage for the next explosive confrontation.
Isabella’s POV
The leather collar around my neck felt heavier tonight, the weight of it a reminder of everything I’d sacrificed and everything he’d taken. Alessandro Ricci wasn’t just a man; he was a force-a storm that tore through my life, rearranging every piece of me. Yet here I was, staring into his steel-gray eyes across the dimly lit dining room, pretending I wasn’t breaking apart inside.
“Eat,” he ordered, his voice as sharp as the knife he was slicing through his steak with.
My fork scraped against the plate, but I couldn’t bring myself to take another bite. “I’m not hungry.”
His gaze lifted, cool and assessing, like he was peeling away every layer I tried to shield. “Isabella, don’t test me tonight.”
“You don’t own my appetite, Alessandro.”
He smirked, leaning back in his chair like the king he thought he was. “I own everything else, don’t I?”
That smug look made my stomach twist-not with fear but with the kind of reckless courage I hadn’t felt in weeks. “Keep telling yourself that,” I shot back, my voice laced with a venom I didn’t even know I had.
For a moment, his smirk disappeared. Good. Let him feel the sting of losing control.
The room crackled with tension, like a fuse burning toward an explosion. I stood, pushing my chair back with more force than necessary. “I’m done playing this game, Alessandro.”
“Game?” He rose to his feet, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. “You think this is a game?”
I took a step back, but my voice didn’t falter. “I think you like watching me squirm, like some sick predator toying with his prey.”
“Maybe I do,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “But don’t forget, prey can bite too.”
My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and defiance. “You can’t keep me on a leash forever.”
His hand shot out, gripping my wrist with just enough pressure to remind me who held the power. “You signed the contract, Isabella. You knew what you were getting into.”
“Did I?” I yanked my arm free, glaring up at him. “Because I didn’t sign up to lose myself in your twisted world.”
“You’re not lost,” he said, his tone softer now, almost… tender. “You’re exactly where you belong.”
I shook my head, my chest tightening with a mix of anger and something darker-something I didn’t want to name. “You don’t get to decide where I belong.”
“You’re mine, Bella,” he said, stepping closer, his voice a mix of possession and promise. “Every part of you-body, mind, soul. You can fight it, but it won’t change the truth.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words caught in my throat as his hand cupped my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice a low growl.
“Say what?” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
“That you’re mine.”
My silence was deafening, even to me.
His grip tightened just slightly-not enough to hurt, but enough to make my pulse race. “Say it, Isabella.”
I swallowed hard, my defiance flickering against the heat in his gaze. “You don’t own me.”
His laugh was dark, bitter, and oh-so-dangerous. “We’ll see about that.”
Before I could react, he leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’ll come to me tonight. Begging. Mark my words.”
He released me abruptly, turning and walking away as if the conversation had ended. But it hadn’t-not by a long shot.
As the door clicked shut behind him, I sank into the nearest chair, my mind spinning. He thought he’d won. Hell, maybe he had. But something told me this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Hours later, I stood in the darkened hallway outside his bedroom, my breath hitching as I raised my hand to knock. I hated him for making me feel this way-for the fire he lit inside me that I couldn’t extinguish no matter how hard I tried.
But just as my knuckles brushed the wood, the door creaked open on its own, revealing Alessandro standing there, shirtless, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” he murmured, his voice like velvet over steel.
I froze, my pride screaming at me to turn around and walk away. But my feet wouldn’t move.
“Come in,” he said, stepping aside.
And against all reason, I did.