From Isabella’s POV
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside. Alex stood near the window, his back to me, his figure a silhouette against the glowing skyline. His presence was suffocating, magnetic-every nerve in my body felt drawn toward him, even when I wanted nothing more than to slam the door behind me and never look back.
“Isabella,” he said, his voice low, like a warning sharp wrapped in velvet. “I don’t repeat myself.”
“Good,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Neither do I.”
I regretted it the second the words left my mouth. His head turned slightly, enough for me to see the edge of his profile. The slight smirk told me everything I needed to know-I’d just walked into his trap.
“You’re pushing me,” he said, his tone calm, too calm. “Careful, bella. I don’t play nice when I’m cornered.”
I swallowed hard, refusing to show weakness. “Maybe I like corners.”
He turned fully, the smirk on his lips sharper now. “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”
Before I could respond, he closed the space between us in three long strides. My breath hitched as his hands gripped the chair behind me, caging me in. He was too close. I hated how much I craved his nearness, the way his scent-something dark and expensive-invaded my senses.
“I gave you whole freedom tonight,” he said, his voice a low growl. “And this is how you plan to thank me?”
I glared up at him. “Freedom? You’re kidding, right? I can’t even walk into this room without feeling like I’m on trial.”
His gaze burned into mine, unyielding. “Because you are. Every time you challenge me, every time you defy me, you’re asking for a response, Isabella. Don’t act surprised when you get one.”
I laughed, a bitter sound. “You’re unbelievable.”
His hand moved, gripping my chin-not hard, but firm enough to hold me in place. “And you, mia cara, are insufferable.”
The air crackled between us, heavy with unspoken words and undeniable tension. I hated him for making me feel this way, for making me forget every rule I’d set for myself. And yet, I couldn’t look away.
“Why are you so obsessed with control?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “Is it because you’re afraid of losing it?”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.
Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against my skin. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Isabella. You won’t like what you find.”
“Try,” I challenged, lifting my chin.
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes-vulnerability, maybe?-but it was gone so fast I couldn’t be sure. He let go of my chin and straightened, his walls slamming back into place.
“Go upstairs,” he said, his voice colder now. “And put on the collar.”
“No,” I said, refusing immediately, the word sharper than I intended.
“Not until you tell me why this matters so much to you.”
His eyes darkened, and I knew I’d gone too far. But I didn’t back down-not this time.
“You want to know why?” he said, his voice deadly soft. “Because every time I see you without it, I’m reminded that you still think you have a choice. And you don’t.”
His words hit me like a slap, but I refused to let them break me. “You can control my actions, Alex, but you’ll never control my mind.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, his smirk returning. “Now, upstairs. I won’t ask again.”
I should’ve walked away. I should’ve gone upstairs and put on the damn collar, played his game like I always did. But something inside me snapped.
“No,” I said again, my voice steady this time.
His expression shifted, a dangerous mix of surprise and anger. He stepped closer, so close I could feel the heat radiating off him. “You’re testing me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Careful, bella. I don’t break. I shatter.”
I didn’t flinch. “Maybe I’m not as fragile as you think.”
His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say something-something real, something that would crack the ice between us. But instead, he turned and walked toward the door, his movements sharp and controlled.
Just before he left, he paused, his hand on the doorknob. “You want to fight me, Isabella?” he said, not looking back. “Fine. But don’t expect mercy.”
The door slammed behind him, leaving me alone in the silence, my heart racing. I hated him. I wanted him. And I knew this was far from over.
As I sank into the chair, my phone buzzed on the table. A text from an unknown number lit up the screen.
“Careful, Isabella. He’s not the only one watching.”
My blood ran cold, the words blurring as dread settled in my chest. Whatever game Alessandro thought he was playing, it was about to get a whole lot more dangerous.
My heels clicked against the marble floor as I entered the penthouse, the weight of the day’s chaos pressing heavy on my shoulders. His scent-a maddening mix of cedar and leather-hit me first, making my pulse stumble. Damn him. Alessandro Ricci always knew how to make his presence suffocating, even when he wasn’t in sight.
“Isabella,” his voice sliced through the silence, smooth as velvet and just as dangerous.
I froze. He was leaning against the bar, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up. That casual arrogance drove me insane-half the time, I wanted to slap him; the other half, I wanted to…
“What?” I snapped, keeping my tone sharp, deflecting the storm brewing in my chest.
He smirked, slow and deliberate, the kind that twisted my insides. “You didn’t call me today. Care to explain?”
“It’s called being busy, Alex,” I shot back, emphasizing his name like a weapon. “You know, some of us actually work.”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought I’d won. But no, he stepped closer, his movements predatory.
“I own you, bella mia,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “You don’t get to ignore me.”
My stomach flipped. He always played this game-pushing, testing, waiting for me to break.
“You don’t own shit,” I said, holding his gaze. “Not me, not my mind, and definitely not my time.”
I regretted it the second the words left my mouth.
His eyes darkened, and the air between us crackled with tension.
“Say that again,” he murmured, stepping so close I could feel the heat radiating off him.
I swallowed hard, refusing to back down. “You don’t own me.”
He reached for me, his hand brushing my jaw, tilting my face up so I couldn’t look away. “Oh, Isabella,” he said, his tone almost amused, almost cruel. “You say one thing, but your body tells me everything I need to know.”
I hated how right he was. My pulse betrayed me, hammering wildly as his thumb traced the line of my jaw.
“Get your hand off me,” I demanded, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
“You sure about that?” he asked, leaning in, his breath hot against my cheek.
God, why did he have to smell so damn good? Why did his voice have to curl around me like smoke, making it impossible to think straight?
“I-”
A sharp knock at the door cut me off, and I pushed him away, desperate for space.
“Saved by the bell,” I muttered, ignoring the smirk on his face as I went to answer it.
When I opened the door, a man I didn’t recognize stood there, his suit too neat, his smile too practiced. He handed me an envelope without a word, his eyes flicking briefly to Alex before he turned and walked away.
“What’s that?” Alex asked, his tone sharp, suspicious.
“I don’t know,” I said, stepping back inside and breaking the seal. The letter inside was handwritten, the words scrawled in a hurried, almost frantic script.
“Leave him, Isabella. Before it’s too late.”
My stomach dropped, and Alex snatched the paper from my hands, reading it quickly. His expression darkened, his fury palpable.
“Who gave this to you?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
“I-”
“Answer me!”
“I don’t know!” I snapped, yanking the letter back. “He didn’t say anything.”
Alex’s hand clenched into a fist, his jaw tight. “This isn’t a warning. It’s a threat.”
“To me or you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Both,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “Pack your bags, bella mia. You’re staying here tonight.”
“Like hell I am-”
“You don’t have a choice,” he growled, cutting me off. “You’re mine, Isabella. And no one-no one-touches what’s mine.”
Before I could argue, he grabbed my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. The look in his eyes made my heart stop-possessive, protective, and something darker, something I couldn’t name.
“What aren’t you telling me, Alex?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.
And just like that, I realized the man I thought I hated might be the only one standing between me and whoever-or whatever-was coming for me.