Alex’s POV
I shouldn’t have followed her. I knew it the second I saw her disappear into the dimly lit bar off the cobblestone street, her back stiff with frustration. Isabella had a way of drawing lines in the sand, daring me to cross them-and I always did.
The place reeked of cheap whiskey and regret. She sat in the far corner, her silhouette haloed by the neon glow of a flickering sign. She hadn’t noticed me yet, her eyes locked on the amber liquid swirling in her glass.
I approached, slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey. My voice cut through the low hum of chatter. “Running away won’t fix anything, Bella.”
Her head snapped up, those fiery brown eyes meeting mine. “I’m not running. I’m escaping,” she shot back, her tone sharp enough to cut.
“Same damn thing,” I said, sliding into the seat across from her.
She laughed, bitter and hollow. “Not everything revolves around you, Alex.”
“It does when you’re mine,” I said, leaning forward, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
Her lips parted, a retort dying on her tongue. For a moment, the air between us thickened, charged. She hated the way I said it, hated that it was true.
She downed the rest of her drink, slamming the glass on the table. “You don’t own me.”
“You signed a contract,” I reminded her, my voice as smooth as the scotch I’d ordered.
She leaned forward, her gaze burning. “And what happens when I tear it up, huh? What are you going to do, Alex? Chain me to your bed?”
My smirk widened. “If that’s what it takes.”
Her cheeks flushed, though whether from anger or something else, I couldn’t tell. Probably both. That’s what I did to her-confused her, unbalanced her. She hated it almost as much as she craved it.
“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, standing abruptly.
I grabbed her wrist, my grip firm but not harsh. “Sit.”
She froze, her breath hitching. I could feel the rapid pulse under my fingers, a betrayal of the calm facade she tried to keep.
“Let go,” she said, her voice quieter now, more uncertain.
“Not until you listen,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. “You think you can just walk out on this? On me? Not happening, Bella.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to control every aspect of my life, Alex. I’m not one of your damn puppets.”
“Maybe not,” I admitted, standing to meet her defiance head-on. “But you’re under my roof, living on my terms. You knew what this was when you signed that contract.”
Her jaw clenched, her fingers trembling as she yanked her wrist free. “Maybe I made a mistake,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The words stung more than I wanted to admit. I stepped closer, closing the gap between us. “You didn’t.”
Her head tilted up, defiance blazing in her eyes again. “How can you be so sure?”
I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear as I whispered, “Because you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want this-didn’t want me.”
She shoved me back, her hands trembling. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” I said, my smirk returning. “But I’m not wrong.”
Before she could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. My smile vanished.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice wary.
I met her gaze, my expression dark. “Trouble.”
She crossed her arms. “What kind of trouble?”
I hesitated, then pocketed the phone. “The kind that makes everything worse. Let’s go.”
Her brow furrowed. “Go where?”
I grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
The tension hung between us, unresolved and crackling, as I led her into the night, the weight of the unknown pressing against us both.
I stared at the screen in my office, the numbers blurring into meaningless patterns. The silence around me was suffocating, and my patience was razor-thin. Isabella hadn’t texted back. Not a word since her cryptic “We need to talk” last night.
She was up to something. My instincts screamed it.
The door creaked open, and Marco strolled in, his usual cocky swagger in full force. “Boss, you’re distracted.” He smirked like it was a joke.
I shot him a glare that could cut steel. “What do you want?”
“Just thought you’d wanna know Isabella’s meeting with someone at Cafe Noir. Looked… intense.”
Every muscle in my body tensed. “Who?”
Marco shrugged, too slow for my liking. “Didn’t recognize him. But he wasn’t local.”
The knot in my chest tightened. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. “Get the car ready.”
Marco’s grin faltered. “You sure? Might not be-”
“Now.” My tone left no room for argument.
The drive to Cafe Noir was a blur. My mind raced, replaying every fight, every sly comment, every lingering glance she’d thrown my way over the past week. Something had shifted between us, and I’d been too arrogant to pin it down.
When I walked into the cafe, the scene hit me like a gut punch.
Isabella sat at a corner table, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup. Across from her, some asshole in a tailored suit leaned in close, his expression way too familiar.
She looked up, startled, as I strode toward them. Her eyes locked on mine-wide, guilty, and full of secrets.
“Alessandro,” she said, her voice a soft gasp.
“Bella,” I replied, my tone icy enough to freeze hell. My gaze shifted to the man. “Who’s your friend?”
The man had the audacity to smirk. “Lorenzo Moretti. We were just catching up.”
Catching up? Bullshit.
I looked back at Isabella, who avoided my gaze. “Step outside. Now.”
She hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but she stood, smoothing her skirt. “Lorenzo, I’ll call you later.”
The way he smiled at her made my blood boil.
Outside, the air was thick with tension. Isabella crossed her arms, defiant as ever.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded, my voice low but sharp.
“Business,” she shot back. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”
“Not my concern?” I stepped closer, invading her space. “Everything you do is my concern, Isabella. You’re mine.”
Her eyes flashed. “Yours? Don’t kid yourself, Alex. I’m not some puppet you can control.”
I laughed, cold and bitter. “Keep telling yourself that, cara mia. But don’t forget who put that ring on your finger.”
She glared at me, fire blazing in her eyes. “And don’t forget why. This isn’t love, Alex. It’s a contract. A goddamn prison you trapped me in.”
Her words hit like a slap, but I didn’t flinch. I leaned in, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think you can walk away? From me? From this?”
“I think,” she said, her voice trembling but strong, “that I deserve better than being your possession.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The words hung between us, heavy and charged.
She turned on her heel, her heels clicking against the pavement as she walked away.
“Isabella,” I called after her, my voice steel-edged.
She paused, but didn’t turn around.
“You walk away now, and there’s no going back. You know that, don’t you?”
Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t answer. She disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing there, fists clenched and heart pounding.
Marco appeared at my side, his expression unreadable.
“You want me to follow her?” he asked.
I shook my head, my jaw tight. “No. She’ll come back. She always does.”
But as I watched her fade into the distance, doubt crept in. This time felt different.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I could pull her back.