Alex’s POV
I stood in the shadows of my penthouse, a whiskey glass clutched tight in my hand. The city glittered below, but all I could focus on was her absence. Isabella’s defiance was becoming predictable-annoying, even. She thought she had the upper hand because I let her have it. For now. But tonight? Tonight, the game changes.
The elevator chimed, and my jaw tightened. Her heels clicked against the marble floors, each step deliberate. She was baiting me, as always. My gaze flicked to her reflection in the glass. A storm brewed in her eyes, but damn if she didn’t look irresistible. That short black dress? A direct violation of my rules. No surprise there.
“You’re late.” My voice sliced through the tension like a blade.
She shrugged, tossing her purse onto the couch like she owned the place. “Traffic,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You gonna punish me, Daddy?”
That word. It shot straight to my core. She only used it when she was trying to push me over the edge. And fuck, it worked.
“Don’t play games with me, Bella.” I turned to face her, my expression cold, calculated. “You’re already on thin ice.”
Her smirk wavered, just for a second. Good. She needed to know she wasn’t untouchable. Not tonight.
Transition: Power Plays and Painful Truths
“Tell me,” I said, closing the distance between us. “Where were you?”
“Out,” she replied, folding her arms. “With friends.”
“Names,” I demanded. My voice was calm, but the undercurrent of rage was impossible to miss.
Her defiance flared. “You’re not my keeper, Alex.”
My hand shot out, grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Oh, but I am. Or have you forgotten the terms of our agreement?”
She swallowed, her bravado faltering. “You can’t control every second of my life.”
“Watch me.” I released her roughly, turning away before I did something I’d regret. My control was slipping, and she knew it.
“Why do you care, anyway?” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re the one who keeps parading other women around. Don’t act like you’re some faithful saint.”
I froze. The accusation hit harder than I expected. She wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t understand. Those women meant nothing. She? She was everything.
“You’re jealous,” I said, my lips curling into a smirk.
She scoffed. “Jealous of what? Your collection of disposable blondes?”
I stepped closer, crowding her space. “Jealous because you know they’ll never get what you have.”
“And what’s that?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
“Me,” I said simply, my hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “All of me.”
Her lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. For a moment, the tension shifted-no longer a battle, but something deeper. Something raw. My fingers trailed down her neck, stopping at the delicate collar she wore. My collar. A symbol of my control, my ownership.
“You think I don’t notice?” I murmured, my voice low, dangerous. “The way you test me. Push me. Do you like watching me lose control, Bella?”
Her breathing hitched, but she didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Her body betrayed her, leaning into my touch even as her mind screamed for her to resist.
“I think you like it,” I continued, my lips brushing against her ear. “Being at my mercy. Knowing I can break you with a word.”
“Fuck you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I chuckled darkly. “Not tonight. You don’t deserve it.”
Her eyes widened, a mix of anger and humiliation flashing across her face. “You’re a bastard.”
“And you love it,” I countered, stepping back to let her breathe. “But you’ll never admit it, will you?”
She glared at me, her hands trembling at her sides. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”
“I know I do.”
She shook her head, biting her lip. “You’re wrong, Alex. So wrong.”
Before I could respond, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Her eyes darted to it, panic flashing briefly before she masked it. Too late. I saw.
“Who is it?” I asked, my voice deadly calm.
“None of your business.”
I reached for the phone, but she was faster, snatching it up and backing away. “Don’t.”
“Isabella,” I warned, my patience wearing thin. “Hand it over.”
“No.”
“Who. Is. It.” Each word was a loaded gun, and she knew it.
She hesitated, her grip tightening on the phone. “It’s… no one.”
“Liar.” My hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. She gasped but didn’t fight me as I pried the phone from her fingers. The screen lit up with a name I didn’t recognize. But the text? Oh, the text was enough to make my blood boil.
“Can’t wait to see you again. Last night was unforgettable.”
I looked up at her, my vision blurred with rage. “Care to explain?”
Her lips parted, but no sound came. For the first time, Isabella Greco looked genuinely afraid.
“Last night?” I said, my voice eerily calm. “You were with him last night?”
“It’s not what you think,” she said quickly, desperation lacing her tone.
“Not what I think?” I repeated, stepping closer. “So you didn’t fuck him? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Her silence was deafening.
I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “You think you can play me, Bella? Lie to me? You forget who you’re dealing with.”
“I didn’t-”
“Enough!” My voice thundered through the room, making her flinch. “You belong to me. Do you understand? Me.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she stood her ground. “I’m not a fucking possession, Alex.”
I leaned in, my face inches from hers. “You are, Bella. And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
She stared at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You don’t own me.”
“Don’t I?” I whispered, my hand brushing her cheek. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Before she could respond, I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me. Let her stew in the mess she’d made. But this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.