Alex
I stood by the window, whiskey swirling in my glass, the city lights a chaotic blur beneath me. My penthouse felt colder than usual tonight, the emptiness gnawing at me. Isabella’s absence was a sharp ache I refused to acknowledge. She was late. Again.
I glanced at the clock-11:03 PM. She was testing me, pushing boundaries I’d carefully set. It was a dangerous game, one I intended to win.
My phone buzzed. A text.
Isabella: “Don’t wait up.”
That’s all she wrote. Short. Dismissive. Infuriating.
My jaw clenched. She thought she had the upper hand. She always did, didn’t she? I dialed her number, my thumb hovering over the call button before deciding against it. No. Let her think she had me guessing.
But two could play this game.
I grabbed my jacket, shoving my phone into my pocket. The club. That’s where she’d be. She never told me outright, but I knew her patterns better than my own. She wanted attention, an audience, the rush of rebellion.
The bouncer at the door recognized me instantly, stepping aside without a word. Inside, the music throbbed, a relentless bass line vibrating through the floor. It smelled of sweat, lust, and overpriced perfume-a haven for secrets.
And there she was.
Isabella. My Isabella.
She was leaning against the bar, her body wrapped in a dress that clung to her curves like sin itself. Her laugh cut through the noise, intoxicating and cruel. The man beside her was no one I recognized-and that made it worse.
I strode toward her, my presence unmistakable. Her laughter faltered when she saw me, her lips parting slightly in shock. But she recovered quickly, arching a brow like she wasn’t caught red-handed.
“Alex,” she drawled, spinning her glass lazily. “What brings you here?”
I ignored her question, my gaze locking onto the guy at her side. “You. Out.”
He hesitated, looking between us like he had a say in this.
“Now.” My voice dropped, icy and unyielding. He scrambled off his stool and disappeared into the crowd. Smart man.
“Was that necessary?” Isabella asked, her tone sweetly mocking.
“You tell me,” I said, closing the space between us. “What are you playing at?”
“Playing?” She tilted her head, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m just enjoying myself. Is that a crime?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
She stepped closer, her breath brushing against my neck. “And what if I do? What are you going to do about it, Alessandro?”
Her challenge was a spark in the powder keg of my restraint. I grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against me. Her sharp intake of breath was a victory I savored.
“You’re mine,” I growled, low and possessive. “Every glance. Every laugh. Every goddamn breath you take-it belongs to me.”
“Belong?” she repeated, her voice trembling despite the bravado in her glare. “You don’t own me.”
“Don’t I?” I leaned in, my lips grazing her ear. “Tell me, Isabella. Did you feel free tonight? Or were you waiting for me to find you?”
Her silence spoke volumes. She hated admitting it, but she wanted this-wanted me.
Before she could answer, my phone buzzed. I ignored it, my focus entirely on her. But it buzzed again. Reluctantly, I pulled it out.
Unknown Number: “If you care about her, you’ll leave now. They’re watching.”
I froze. My blood ran cold. I scanned the room quickly, searching for anything-anyone-that seemed out of place. Isabella frowned, sensing the shift in me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her defiance melting into concern.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket, my grip on her wrist tightening. “We’re leaving.”
“Alex, what’s going on?”
“Not here.” My tone brooked no argument.
The air around us felt heavier, charged with something unseen but dangerous. As I led her out of the club, my mind raced. Someone was playing a game I didn’t understand-and Isabella was the bait.
And whoever they were, they’d just made the biggest mistake of their life.
Isabella tugged at my arm as we reached the car, her voice laced with panic. “Alex, tell me the truth. What’s happening?”
I turned to her, my jaw set, my eyes burning with determination. “Someone’s hunting us, Bella. And I’m going to find out who before they make their move.”
Her breath hitched, her fear palpable. “And if they do?”
I leaned closer, my voice a promise and a threat. “If they do, I’ll bury them.”
Here’s **Chapter 60** of *The Contracted Marriage: A Deal with the Devil*, Volume 1, from Alessandro “Alex” Ricci’s POV. It adheres to the requested style-intense, seductive, and laced with suspense, flirty dialogue, and emotional tension.
The quiet hum of the city beyond the penthouse windows was my only companion, save for the glass of bourbon I rolled lazily in my hand. Midnight tasted like regret, but it smelled like her. She wasn’t here. Again. Isabella had crossed a line this time, and my patience, thin as it already was, snapped like a cheap thread.
I didn’t look up when the door slammed open. Her footsteps, sharp and defiant, echoed in the marble-floored hallway. She always made her presence known-like a storm warning.
“Are you drunk, Alex?” Her voice cut through the silence, low and sharp, but I could hear the worry buried beneath it.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I took a slow sip, the liquid burning its way down my throat. She hated when I ignored her, which is exactly why I did it.
“You can’t keep running this like some twisted game,” she snapped, her heels clicking closer. “Where were you tonight?”
“Out.” My reply was flat, deliberately short. I wanted her to ask more, to care more. She didn’t.
Her laugh was bitter. “Out? That’s it? That’s your excuse for disappearing while your so-called ‘wife’ cleans up your mess?”
I turned to face her, finally. She looked furious-and gorgeous. Her hair was wild, her cheeks flushed. A few buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing skin I knew too well. My voice came out sharper than I intended. “You’re my wife on paper, Isabella. Don’t confuse that with reality.”
Her lips parted, words caught between anger and hurt. Good. Let her feel it.
Her silence didn’t last long. It never did.
“You’re unbelievable,” she hissed, closing the distance between us. “You think you can just push people away? Control them? What happens when you’re the one who’s left?”
She didn’t realize how close she was-close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. My hand shot out before I could stop myself, gripping her wrist. “You won’t leave,” I said, my voice like steel. “You can’t.”
Her eyes flashed with fury. “You don’t own me, Alex.”
“No,” I said, pulling her closer. “But I do know you.”
She gasped, caught between resistance and something she wouldn’t name. The air between us was thick, suffocating. My other hand brushed against her jaw, tilting her face up toward mine. “You’re shaking,” I whispered. “Are you scared of me, Bella? Or yourself?”
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t answer. I kissed her-hard, demanding. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t supposed to be. She kissed me back, fierce and wild, as if trying to prove a point. But I knew better. I always did.
When she broke away, her lips were swollen, her breathing uneven. “I hate you,” she said, but it sounded more like a plea than a declaration.
I smirked, brushing my thumb across her bottom lip. “Hate’s just love twisted into knots, sweetheart.”
The tension snapped like a live wire when her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She grabbed it, her expression shifting as she read the message. Her face went pale-an emotion I hadn’t seen before.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice cutting through the room.
She didn’t answer, her fingers trembling as she clutched the phone. Her silence was enough to unnerve me. I stepped closer, taking the device from her hand despite her protest. The message was brief but explosive.
“You’ll never escape the truth, Bella. The past is coming for you-and him.”
“What the hell is this?” I demanded, my voice rising. I turned to her, but she looked… broken. Vulnerable. Two things she never allowed herself to be.
She shook her head, her eyes glossy with something between fear and regret. “It’s nothing,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Just someone trying to scare me.”
“Bullshit.” My tone was ice. “Who sent this?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped back, putting distance between us-a rare move for her. “Drop it, Alex,” she whispered. “You don’t want to know.”
I grabbed her arm before she could leave, pulling her close again. “Try me,” I said, my voice a low growl. “I’ll burn the whole goddamn world for you, Bella. Don’t forget that.”
Her lips parted, but the words never came. Instead, she pulled free, leaving the room without another glance. The door slammed behind her, and I was left standing there, the cryptic message burning in my hand.
Whoever sent that text didn’t know me. Not yet. But they would.