Alex’s POV
The air in the penthouse was thick. Not with heat, not with passion-this was different. This was the tension of betrayal, the kind that twists in your gut and whispers, Trust no one.
Isabella sat on the couch, legs crossed, her expression calm, too calm. Her emerald eyes, usually sharp with rebellion or vulnerability, held something else now: calculation. She was plotting, and I could feel it in my bones.
“You’ve been quiet all day,” I said, breaking the silence. My voice was low, dangerous. “What’s on your mind, amore mio?”
Her lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Just thinking. You don’t like that, do you?”
I chuckled, dark and humorless. “Depends on what you’re thinking about.”
She leaned back, her slender fingers tracing the edge of the wine glass in her hand. “What I’d do with my freedom, perhaps.”
My jaw clenched, but I didn’t let it show. “Freedom’s overrated. You’d be bored within a week.”
Her laugh was soft, almost mocking. “Maybe. But at least I’d have choices.”
Choices. That word echoed in my mind like a gunshot. I’d spent my life taking away choices-from my enemies, from my business rivals, and now from her.
“You’ve got everything you need here, Isabella,” I said, stepping closer. “Freedom’s just an illusion. You know that as well as I do.”
She didn’t reply, but her eyes met mine, challenging. There was no submission tonight. Just that damn fire I both loved and hated.
I moved to sit across from her, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. I reached for the contract on the coffee table, the very one that bound her to me.
“Do you know what this piece of paper represents?” I asked, tapping it lightly.
She arched an eyebrow. “Your ego?”
A low growl escaped me. “It represents power. Control. Everything you signed up for when you agreed to this.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “I didn’t agree to this, Alex. Not the constant surveillance, not the isolation. You’ve turned my life into a gilded cage.”
“Cages are for protection,” I countered, leaning forward. “Do you have any idea what would happen to you out there without me? You’d be eaten alive, Bella.”
“Better to be eaten than smothered,” she shot back, her voice rising.
The room fell silent, her words hanging between us like a challenge. She was pushing, testing the boundaries of her leash. But what she didn’t realize was that I controlled those boundaries, and I wasn’t about to let her forget it.
I stood, pacing to the window. The city lights below glittered like diamonds, mocking me with their chaos. I’d built an empire out there, one that thrived on control and precision. But in here, with her, everything felt precarious.
“You want freedom?” I asked, my back to her.
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.
I turned, my expression unreadable. “Then earn it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” I said, stalking toward her, “you prove your loyalty. You want choices? Show me you can handle them without betraying me.”
“And how exactly do I do that?” she demanded, standing to meet me eye to eye.
I smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’ll let you figure that out. But let me make one thing clear.” My hand tightened in her hair, tilting her head back slightly. “The moment you step out of line, Bella, you’ll wish for the safety of this cage.”
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. “You’re a bastard, Alex.”
“And you’re mine,” I said, releasing her with a flick of my wrist.
The doorbell rang, shattering the charged silence. My eyes snapped to the door, my instincts on high alert. No one came here uninvited.
“Expecting company?” Isabella asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.
“Stay here,” I ordered, my voice sharp.
I moved to the door, hand resting on the gun holstered at my side. Opening it, I was met with a sight that froze me in place.
“Long time no see, Ricci,” the man said, his voice dripping with venom.
The past I’d tried to bury had just walked through my door, and with it, the secrets that could destroy everything.
“Invite me in, or do I have to remind you who really owns your soul?”
Isabella’s heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, a sound that both irritated and excited me. She always walked like she owned the damn room, even when she knew I controlled every inch of it. My office door was already ajar, but she didn’t bother knocking. Bold as ever.
Her eyes locked with mine, fiery and unyielding. “We need to talk,” she said, her voice tight, restrained like she was holding back a dam of emotions.
I leaned back in my chair, tilting my head as a slow smirk played on my lips. “Do we?”
She placed a folder on my desk, her movements sharp and deliberate. “Don’t play games, Alex. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Twisting the contract? The silent surveillance? The…” Her voice faltered just slightly before she caught herself. “…collars you send to remind me.”
Ah, she’d noticed. Good.
“Baby,” I drawled, the endearment dripping with mockery, “you signed on the dotted line. Everything in that folder? Yours to handle. Yours to obey.”
Her cheeks flushed, but not from embarrassment. It was anger. Or maybe… something else.
“I’m not your damn puppet!” she snapped.
I stood, slowly rounding the desk. She backed up instinctively, her spine meeting the cold glass wall behind her. Trapped. Right where I wanted her.
“You’re not my puppet,” I agreed, stopping mere inches from her. “You’re my possession.”
Her breath hitched, but her chin tilted defiantly. “That’s not what this is about, Alex. Don’t distract me.”
“Distract you?” I murmured, leaning in, close enough to see her pupils dilate. “From what, Isabella? The truth? Or the fact that you can’t decide whether to slap me or beg me to touch you?”
She shoved at my chest, her palms flat and firm. “You don’t scare me,” she said, her voice low but trembling at the edges.
“Good.” I caught her wrists, pinning them above her head against the glass. Her pulse raced beneath my grip, betraying her calm exterior. “Fear isn’t what I want from you.”
“Let me go,” she hissed, though her body betrayed her words.
“Say please.”
Her lips pressed into a tight line. “Never.”
I tightened my hold just enough to make her gasp. “That stubborn mouth of yours will get you in trouble someday, Bella.”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” she shot back, her eyes blazing.
My grip loosened, just enough for her to pull free. She rubbed her wrists but didn’t move away. “You’re crossing a line,” she said quietly, almost like a warning.
I laughed, the sound low and rough. “Sweetheart, the only line here is the one you can’t bring yourself to walk away from.”
She glared at me, but something flickered in her eyes-something she couldn’t quite hide. And just like that, she was gone, storming out of my office without another word.
Later that evening, I sat in my private study, nursing a glass of bourbon. Isabella’s scent lingered in the room-floral, sweet, intoxicating. She had a way of invading my space, even when she wasn’t there.
The door creaked open, and Luca, my consigliere, stepped inside. His expression was grim, his tone clipped. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Tell me something new,” I muttered, swirling the amber liquid in my glass.
“It’s about Isabella,” he said, his voice heavy with implication.
My hand stilled. “What about her?”
“She’s been asking questions. Poking around where she shouldn’t. The Armand deal-she’s too close to figuring it out.”
I leaned back, my eyes narrowing. “And?”
Luca hesitated. “And she’s meeting someone tonight. Alone.”
The glass hit the table with a sharp clink as I stood abruptly. “Who?”
“Don’t know yet,” he admitted, his tone apologetic. “But if she finds out-”
“She won’t,” I snapped, cutting him off. “I’ll handle it.”
The club was dark, pulsing with low music and dim lights. I spotted her immediately, her figure illuminated in a wash of red from the overhead lights. She was seated at a corner table, her posture tense, her fingers curled tightly around the stem of a wine glass.
And then I saw him. The man leaning in, too close, his hand brushing hers.
My blood ran cold.
I didn’t think. I moved.
“Isabella,” I said, my voice slicing through the noise like a blade.
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and… guilt?
The man turned, his face unfamiliar but immediately irritating. He stood, trying to square up, but I didn’t give him the chance.
“Walk away,” I said coldly, my tone leaving no room for argument.
He hesitated, glancing between us, but the weight of my stare broke him. He muttered something under his breath before disappearing into the crowd.
I turned back to Isabella, who was already on her feet, anger radiating off her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.
“What are you doing here?” I countered, stepping closer.
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t get to follow me.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “I don’t follow. I hunt.”
She took a step back, her defiance faltering just slightly.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Bella,” I murmured, reaching out to tilt her chin up. “And I don’t lose.”
Her lips parted, as though she wanted to respond, but no words came.
And then, with a small, breathless whisper, she said, “What if this time… you do?”