The rain drummed steadily against the tinted glass windows of the penthouse, creating a rhythmic background to the silence stretching between them.
Isabella stood by the fireplace, arms folded tightly across her chest, watching the flames flicker and dance as if they could warm the confusion storming inside her.
Alexander had invited her to his home for a "private meeting"—a follow-up discussion on the finer details of their collaboration. At least, that was what he had called it. But nothing about tonight felt strictly business.
Not the wine he'd offered.
Not the way his eyes lingered on her lips when she spoke.
Not the way her pulse betrayed her every time he stepped a little too close.
She hated how aware she was of him. How his presence took up all the space in the room… and all the space in her thoughts.
"You're quiet tonight," Alexander's voice pulled her back. He was lounging on the leather couch, his shirt sleeves rolled up, fingers holding a glass of bourbon he hadn't touched.
"I'm just thinking," she said carefully, her gaze not leaving the fire.
"About?" he asked, tilting his head, watching her the way a hawk might watch a rabbit—not cruelly, but sharply, intently.
Isabella turned to face him. "This deal. Your sudden… shift in attitude. One minute you're cold, the next you're—"
"Inviting you into my home?"
She raised a brow. "Exactly."
Alexander took a slow sip of his drink before setting it down. He stood up, walked toward her, and stopped just inches away. "You intrigue me, Isabella Harper. That's rare. I don't bring people here. I don't trust easily."
"And you trust me?"
"No," he said plainly, eyes locked on hers. "But I want to."
The room grew heavier with tension.
"I didn't come here for mind games," she said, holding her ground despite the racing of her heart.
"And yet… here you are," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
Isabella's breath hitched.
He leaned in, not close enough to kiss her, but close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath, the weight of his gaze, the pull of something dangerously magnetic.
"This is a bad idea," she murmured.
"The worst," he agreed.
Still… neither of them moved away.
A phone rang in the distance, snapping the moment in two. Isabella exhaled and stepped back, her walls rising faster than before.
"I should go," she said, collecting her bag.
Alexander didn't stop her. He only watched as she walked to the door, his eyes unreadable. "The offer stands," he said quietly. "When you're ready to stop pretending you don't feel this… you know where to find me."
She didn't look back as she stepped into the elevator. But as the doors closed, her fingers trembled slightly.
Not from fear.
From wanting.
And that scared her more than anything else.