Chapter 7: Twisted Promises and Boundaries Pushed

From Isabella’s POV

The soft glow from the city lights filtered through the panoramic windows, casting a sharp contrast between the gleaming, polished furniture and the icy distance Alex projected. He stood by the window, his silhouette a tall, imposing shadow against the night. I watched him in silence, my heart pounding just from his presence—both a force of security and a barrier I could never cross.

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, a half-hearted shield against the pulse racing beneath my skin. “You know, I don’t need to be here every night,” I started, voice steady but low. “I do have a life outside this contract.”

Without turning, he chuckled, his voice as smooth and dark as the leather armchair he so often occupied. “Your life is here now, Isabella,” he replied, a trace of amusement slipping through the usual cold tone. “I thought that was clear by now.”

There was a shiver in me that I hated, a reaction I couldn’t shake whenever he slipped into that detached, yet oddly possessive voice. It grated on me, that he thought he could just claim me like one of his priceless artifacts. And yet, every time I thought I’d fight back, he’d pull me in with that calm, deadly allure.

“Is that all I am to you?” I pushed, stepping closer but still out of his reach. “Just another asset in your collection?”

Alex’s gaze shifted, landing on me with an intensity that could slice through glass. His expression softened slightly, but only just. “I think you know you’re more than that.”

A flare of hope—however naive—ignited within me. But it was swiftly extinguished when he closed the space between us, his hand wrapping around my wrist, firm yet maddeningly gentle.

“You agreed to the terms, Isabella,” he said, each word dropping like an anchor. “Every night. My rules. No exceptions.” His fingers trailed up my arm, sending a thrill down my spine, and I cursed my body for betraying me.

“Right, your ‘rules,’” I replied, not daring to pull away. “Rules that you’ve made painfully clear have nothing to do with…well, with this,” I gestured at the tense distance between us. “Or with anyone else.” I hated that my voice shook, that he saw through my façade of indifference every time.

“You’re not in a position to negotiate, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand reaching for the collar around my neck. That dark, branded promise. “This is non-negotiable.”

A flicker of something crossed his gaze, something hidden behind the steel mask he wore so well. It made me think of our first meeting, a memory that had haunted me. The sharpness in his gaze, that magnetic, untouchable allure that had lured me into a trap of legal terms and obligations.

But those moments of what almost seemed like vulnerability were always fleeting. He’d pull away just as I thought I glimpsed a sliver of real emotion beneath the mafia boss façade. I knew better than to expect more from a man who saw love as a weakness.

“You’re married to me, in every way that matters,” he continued, his fingers tracing the edge of my collar—a chilling reminder that this contract was binding, in more ways than one. “Until I decide otherwise.”

I swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how those words cut, like a rope slipping through my fingers. “Right. Until you decide,” I echoed bitterly. “God forbid I actually have a say in my own life.”

His grip tightened, his gaze hardening. “Careful, Isabella.”

The warning was unmistakable, and a pulse of defiance surged through me. I stepped closer, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “And what if I’m tired of being careful?”

He arched an eyebrow, amused yet wary. “That sounds like a challenge.” His voice dropped an octave, sending an uninvited thrill through me. “You should know better than to poke the bear, especially when that bear holds all the cards.”

I exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “All the cards? Or just a few well-placed threats?”

His jaw tensed, a flicker of irritation surfacing. “Watch that mouth, Isabella.” His tone was dangerous, but I could sense the frustration simmering underneath. And maybe, just maybe, a hint of something more.

“Make me,” I shot back, the words leaving my lips before I could stop them.

His eyes darkened, that dangerous glint returning, and before I knew it, he’d closed the gap between us. His hands gripped my waist, pinning me in place, his breath warm against my cheek. “Careful what you wish for,” he warned, his voice a low, lethal promise.

My heart pounded, but I refused to back down. “Or what? You’ll add another clause to the contract?”

He laughed, a dark sound that made my skin tingle. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t need to write it down. You’re already mine.” His hand slid up my arm, and I hated the way my body reacted, every nerve ending alight with anticipation.

“Not forever,” I whispered, the words barely audible.

A flash of something—pain, maybe—crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Forever’s a long time, Isabella,” he murmured. “And we’re only getting started.”

Just as I was about to respond, the sharp sound of his phone vibrating cut through the tension. He cursed under his breath, his grip loosening just enough for me to step back, reclaiming a small fragment of space. He shot me a look, one that promised our conversation wasn’t over, then pulled his phone from his pocket.

As he answered, his voice turned cold, businesslike—an entirely different side of him, one I wasn’t privy to. But what I heard next sent a chill down my spine.

“They’ve found her location. Yes, make sure she stays put. No one moves until I say so.”

The words were clipped, controlled, but there was a lethal edge to them that spoke of unfinished business. Whoever “she” was, it was clear she was a threat—or a target. He ended the call abruptly, his gaze settling on me with an intensity that felt suffocating.

“Isabella,” he said, his tone taking on a dangerous calm, “don’t get any ideas.”

I narrowed my eyes, feigning defiance despite the unease gnawing at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, his hand grazing my cheek in a gesture that was both gentle and chillingly possessive. “It means, sweetheart, that this world I keep you shielded from. It’s darker than you think. Don’t go looking for secrets you’re not ready to handle.”

I forced a smile, a shaky one at best. “Maybe I’m stronger than you give me credit for.”

He smirked, his gaze piercing. “Maybe you are. But trust me, some things are better left buried.”

His hand lingered on my cheek, his thumb brushing my jaw in a way that was almost tender. But the moment was shattered as he stepped back, a silent dismissal that left me feeling both vulnerable and defiant.

“Sweet dreams, Isabella,” he said, his voice laced with a cold finality.

I watched as he walked away, my mind whirling with questions, my heart pounding with the adrenaline of the unknown. As the door clicked shut, I was left alone with my thoughts—and the haunting suspicion that whatever he was hiding, it was about to change everything.

And as I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever lay beneath his icy surface was more dangerous than I could ever have anticipated.

The tension, lingering fear gripped me, refusing to let me go.