Third Person’s POV
Isabella sat at the edge of the plush leather couch, fingers tapping anxiously against the armrest. The silence of the room felt like a heavy cloak, pressing against her chest. Alex had been gone for hours-long enough for her mind to start racing in circles. The house, though magnificent and imposing, felt hollow without him. His absence was a void, a reminder of the fragile, strange bond they shared.
A knock at the door. The tension that gripped her spine spiked. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Was it him? Had he returned?
The door swung open with an air of command. Alex stood there, framed in the doorway. His presence filled the room instantly, like the storm before the rain, dark and consuming.
“Good evening, Isabella.” His voice was low, commanding, and dripping with an edge of amusement.
She couldn’t help the flutter of unease in her stomach. He had that effect on her, didn’t he? No matter how much she tried to distance herself, his dominance always found a way back into her veins.
“Where were you?” she asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain composed.
Alex’s eyes glinted with something unreadable. He stepped inside, closing the door with a slow, deliberate motion. “Does it matter, sweetheart?”
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. The truth might break her even more. But the question lingered in her mind-where had he been? Was he still… *with her*?
He took a few steps toward her, his boots clicking against the marble floor. The cold air that followed him wrapped around her like a tight chain, drawing her in without her consent.
“Look at you, always so full of questions,” Alex murmured, his fingers lightly grazing her cheek. The touch was cold, but it sent a jolt of warmth through her body.
He moved behind her, his breath warm against her ear. “You still think I’m not watching you, don’t you?” His lips brushed the side of her neck, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.
She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t sure whether she hated or craved these moments. She hated feeling so small, so *insignificant* in his eyes. Yet, when he was near, it was impossible to ignore the burning pull between them.
“Always,” she said softly, her voice cracking, betraying the emotions she was trying to suppress.
His laugh was dark, low, almost sinister. “Good girl. At least you know your place.”
The words stung, but there was something else in his tone-something more possessive, more raw. He hadn’t called her “good girl” in a long time.
She turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “Do you ever get tired of this?” she asked, her words a mix of defiance and desperation.
“Of what?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “This game we play? You think it’s a game, Isabella? No… it’s not a game. It’s control. And you, sweetheart, have always been mine to control.”
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. The truth was, she wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to escape it anymore. Every time she tried, his pull was too strong. He was too strong.
She clenched her fists, the need to escape rising within her again. But then, like clockwork, Alex’s hand was on her arm, gripping it tightly enough to hurt.
“I can feel you slipping, Isabella. Like a child trying to run away from her Daddy,” he said in a voice that sent a chill down her spine. His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unwavering. “You’re mine, and you will always be mine. No matter how hard you try to leave. You will come back to me.”
His words were like a knife to her heart, cutting deep into her chest. He knew her too well. She hated that he knew. It made her feel weak, exposed, vulnerable.
“I’m not a child,” she snapped, but the words lacked the conviction they needed.
He chuckled darkly, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw in a deceptively gentle motion. “You are when you’re with me. You always will be. Now… kneel.”
Isabella froze. The command was sharp, cold, and unwavering. She wanted to resist-wanted to scream and throw herself against him, escape the pull of his power. But she couldn’t. She never could.
Slowly, she sank to her knees, her body betraying her once again. She could feel the burn of humiliation creeping up her skin, but there was also something else-something more primal. A part of her wanted to please him. A part of her always would.
Alex stood above her, a smug smile curling his lips. He gently tilted her head back with his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Good girl,” he murmured again, this time with a hint of something more-something dangerous. “Now, tell me, Isabella. What’s really going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
She could feel the weight of his gaze, the way he saw through her, reading her like an open book. It made her want to scream, but she could only manage a shaky breath.
“I… I don’t know anymore,” she whispered, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”
For a moment, the air between them hung thick with tension. Then, Alex’s expression softened, his grip loosening just slightly.
“I told you, sweetheart,” he murmured, kneeling down to her level. His face was inches from hers now. “You don’t get to leave. You’ll never leave me. No matter what you think you want.”
His lips hovered above hers, and for the briefest moment, Isabella wondered if he was going to kiss her-take her the way he always did. But then his gaze flickered to her lips, and his smile widened.
“No,” he said simply, his voice rough. “Not yet.”
And with that, he stood up, leaving her kneeling there, her heart racing, her body aching for the release he denied her.
“Isabella, I have a gift for you,” Alex said, his voice turning sinister again. “But you’re not going to like it.”
Isabella’s breath caught in her throat. What did he mean? What was he planning now?