Isabella
The collar chafed against my neck, a constant reminder of the control Alessandro claimed over me. Every time it brushed my skin, I felt his presence, even when he wasn’t there. God, I hated how much it turned me on.
“You’re quiet today, princess.” His voice, deep and smooth, echoed in the dimly lit room.
I glanced up from the contract I’d been pretending to read. He stood by the window, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the city lights framing his silhouette. He didn’t look at me, but he didn’t need to. Alessandro had this way of commanding every molecule of air, leaving me gasping for breath.
“Not in the mood for small talk, Daddy,” I snapped, deliberately testing the waters.
His gaze shot to me, sharp and dangerous. “Careful, Bella,” he warned, his tone like steel wrapped in velvet. “You’re walking a thin line tonight.”
I smirked, feeling reckless. “Oh, am I? Guess I’ll just keep walking, then.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he growled, closing the distance between us in three strides. His heat, his scent-everything about him was overwhelming. “And I don’t lose.”
He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. “Do you want me to remind you who’s in charge here?”
I swallowed hard, my body betraying me with a shiver. “Don’t flatter yourself, Alex. A leash doesn’t make you a leader.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in that maddening smirk that made my knees weak. “No, but it makes you mine.”
He reached for my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, predatory, and far too knowing. “Say it,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.
I glared at him, hating how much he affected me. “Make me,” I challenged, my voice barely above a whisper.
His grip tightened, and for a moment, I thought he’d snap. But instead, he let out a low chuckle that sent a thrill down my spine. “You’re stubborn as hell, Bella. I like that about you. Makes breaking you so much sweeter.”
“Keep dreaming,” I shot back, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me.
Before I could pull away, he dragged me closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck. His touch was firm, possessive, but not cruel. It was maddening-how he always knew exactly how far to push.
“Stop fighting me, Isabella,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine. “You’re only making it harder for yourself.”
“Maybe I like the fight,” I retorted, though my resolve was crumbling fast.
His eyes narrowed, studying me like he could see straight into my soul. “You think this is just a game? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?”
My heart skipped a beat, and I cursed myself for letting him get under my skin. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Don’t I?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re scared, Bella. Not of me-but of how much you want this. How much you want *me*.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself, and stepped back, leaving me reeling.
“Get some sleep,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just turned my world upside down. “Tomorrow’s going to be… interesting.”
I scowled, refusing to let him have the last word. “You don’t own me, Alessandro.”
His smile widened, dark and dangerous. “Keep telling yourself that, princess.”
As he walked away, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just lost a battle I didn’t even realize I was fighting.
Later that night, I paced my room, the weight of his words pressing down on me. He was wrong. He had to be. I didn’t want him-not the way he thought. This was all just a game, a twisted power play. Wasn’t it?
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I froze, my heart pounding. Who the hell could it be at this hour?
Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Alessandro stepped inside, his expression unreadable.
“What the-” I started, but he cut me off with a single word.
“Quiet.”
His tone sent a shiver down my spine, and for once, I obeyed. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, arms crossed, his gaze locking onto mine.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and serious. “And you’re not going to like what I have to say.”
From the moment I stepped into Alessandro’s penthouse, I could feel his gaze pinning me down like a predator tracking its prey. My fingers clenched the silk bag holding the new contracts, my pulse fluttering under the weight of his intensity. The city lights spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows as sharp as his jawline. He was sprawled in the leather chair, all confidence and control, a glass of whiskey dangling carelessly from his hand.
“You’re late.” His voice was ice dipped in steel, soft but razor-sharp.
I rolled my eyes, shrugging out of my coat. “Traffic,” I muttered, tossing the excuse like a casual grenade.
“Don’t lie to me, Bella,” he snapped. His tone cut deeper than it should have. Damn him. Damn his perfect smirk and those dark, penetrating eyes that seemed to see straight through me.
“Well, maybe I took my sweet time,” I shot back, deliberately meeting his stare. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one.
His expression didn’t shift. But the dangerous gleam in his eyes sent heat crawling over my skin. “Kneel.”
The word hit me like a thunderclap. I froze, my rebellious thoughts colliding with the storm in my chest. My body wanted to obey, but my pride clawed for dominance.
“Alessandro, I’m not in the mood for games tonight.”
He was on his feet before I finished the sentence, closing the distance between us in a few strides. His fingers brushed my chin, tilting my face upward. “This isn’t a game. You agreed to the rules, Isabella. Or do I need to remind you?”
I swallowed, my breath hitching as his thumb traced my jawline. “I haven’t forgotten,” I said, the words barely above a whisper.
“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and lethal. “Because breaking the rules has consequences.”
I knelt reluctantly, the plush carpet soft under my knees. His presence loomed over me, every ounce of control radiating from him like a drug I hated craving. He circled me slowly, his footsteps deliberate, calculated. The silence stretched, thick with tension.
“You’re stalling,” I said finally, my voice sharper than I intended.
He stopped behind me, his hands grazing my shoulders. “Impatient, aren’t we?” His fingers trailed down my arms, sending sparks racing under my skin.
“Impatient to get this over with,” I shot back, even though my heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
Alessandro chuckled darkly. “Liar.”
Before I could retort, he stepped in front of me, holding something gleaming in his hand. My breath hitched when I saw the collar-a delicate band of black leather, adorned with a single silver charm shaped like a key.
“Do you know what this means?” he asked, his voice a velvet growl.
I shook my head, refusing to look at it. “I know what you want it to mean,” I said, my tone defiant. “But this doesn’t make me yours, Alex.”
His smirk was infuriatingly smug. “It already does.”
I expected him to force it around my neck, to demand my submission as he always did. But Alessandro surprised me. He dropped the collar onto the table beside us, leaning in close until his breath fanned my cheek.
“You’re scared,” he whispered, his tone unreadable.
“I’m not,” I snapped, even as my heart betrayed me with its erratic rhythm.
“You are,” he insisted. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face, lingering just long enough to make me shiver. “But not of me. You’re afraid of how much you like this. How much you like… me.”
I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Alex.”
“Is that so?” he asked, his lips curving into a wolfish grin. “Then why haven’t you walked away?”
The question hung between us, heavy and dangerous. I had no answer-at least, not one I could admit to myself. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“You’ll wear the collar, Bella. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow. But you’ll wear it. And when you do…” He paused, his eyes locking onto mine, a promise and a threat all at once. “You’ll beg me for the key.”
He straightened, his gaze never leaving mine. “Now get up,” he ordered, his tone a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch moments earlier. “And don’t test me again.”
I rose on shaky legs, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension. I hated how he got under my skin, how he made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.
As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me cold.
“Bella,” he called, his tone softer this time, almost teasing.
I glanced back, my heart lodged in my throat.
“You’ll call me ‘Daddy’ when you come back. Won’t you?”
My cheeks burned as I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. But his laughter followed me, low and satisfied, a sound that haunted me long after I’d gone.
In the silence of the elevator, I touched my throat absentmindedly where the collar would’ve rested. His words echoed in my mind, tangling with my thoughts until they were inseparable.
I hated him.
I wanted him.
And I wasn’t sure which one terrified me more.