Chapter 277
Isabella saw right through Julian’s intentions.
The box of handcrafted chocolates wasn’t cheap, and the message on the packaging was both bold and sentimental.
Too obvious.
“Thanks,” she said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “But I’ve been cutting back on sweets lately. They don’t really tempt me anymore.”
Between adults, some things didn’t need to be said outright.
It was a clear rejection.
For a brief moment, disappointment flickered in Julian’s eyes, but he masked it quickly with a practiced smile.
“Fair enough,” he said smoothly. “Next time, I’ll take you somewhere savory instead.”
He understood exactly what Isabella was implying.
Back in Leswington, Julian had faced rejection more times than he cared to count—but he never let it deter him. Still, he wasn’t the type to linger where he wasn’t wanted.
His philosophy was simple: just being in Isabella’s presence felt like a victory in itself.
Alexander’s expression, however, darkened the moment he spotted the chocolates.
Especially as he watched Julian and Isabella, laughing and chatting like old friends—so at ease, so comfortable in each other’s company.
But when he heard Isabella’s refusal, his face remained impassive, though beneath the surface, something warm and triumphant stirred.
“Tastes do change, don’t they?” Alexander mused, stretching out on the sofa with effortless grace. His gaze, when it lifted, was deep and unreadable, like a midnight ocean.
His words carried a subtle edge.
“Since Ms. Sinclair has been favoring spicier dishes lately, perhaps next time, Dr. Whitmore, you should check before gifting her,” Alexander added, his tone laced with barely concealed amusement.
Julian faltered for a second, caught off guard by the remark.
Alexander’s ambiguity stung, but Julian merely chuckled. “Just because her palate has shifted doesn’t mean her interests have.”
Alexander’s smile was slow, deliberate. “Is that so?” He neither confirmed nor denied it as he finished tying off the last bit of gauze, his movements precise.
“Speaking of which,” Alexander continued, his tone deceptively light, “isn’t it time for Amelia’s therapy session? You must be busy, Dr. Whitmore.”
Julian exhaled inwardly.
Of course.
Alexander’s timing was impeccable—as if the entire conversation had been orchestrated to push him out the door.
“I should also thank you,” Alexander added, his voice sincere despite the tension between them. “For stepping in earlier with Damian and Victoria.”
Julian had intervened when the two had caused trouble, and Alexander’s gratitude was genuine.
“You’re too kind, Mr. Kingsley,” Julian replied with a polite nod. “I barely did anything.”
With one last reluctant glance at Isabella, he added, “We’ll catch up over dinner tonight.”
He wondered, not for the first time, if Alexander’s timing was always this calculated—whether by accident or design.
But duty called, and with a final nod, Julian left to tend to Amelia.
As the others dispersed, only Alexander and Isabella remained, the room settling into an unexpected quiet.
Isabella stepped forward, curiosity glinting in her eyes.
“How did you know I’ve been into spicy food lately, Mr. Kingsley? We’ve barely shared a few meals.”
Alexander’s lips curved. “Last time we ate together, you drowned your roast beef in hot sauce.”
His attention to detail when it came to her was unnerving.
For instance, he knew that when they kissed, she craved fire, not hesitation.
“You’re very observant, Mr. Kingsley,” Isabella remarked, though she couldn’t quite decipher the thoughts behind his dark gaze.
She had meant to bring up Damian and Victoria, but the moment had passed.
Instead, another question surfaced.
“By the way,” she began casually, “could I take a photo of the necklace you wore the other night?”
She had only glimpsed it briefly before—too quickly to study it properly.
Since she’d found no leads on the matching bracelet her mother had left her, Alexander seemed like the next logical step.
Her expression gave nothing away.
“My mother left me a bracelet that matches your necklace. I’ve been searching for answers for years, but I’ve hit dead ends. I thought…”
Alexander’s eyes locked onto hers.
“Of course.”
His immediate agreement surprised her.
She tilted her head. “But I recall that necklace being a family heirloom—reserved for the future lady of the house. Aren’t you worried I might swap it out?”
Alexander’s lips twitched. “Would you really do that, Ms. Sinclair?”
Isabella smirked. “Maybe I would.”
“If you want it,” Alexander murmured, his voice dropping low, “you don’t need to steal it.”
His dark eyes burned with an intensity that made her breath catch.
“I can just give it to you.”
For a fleeting second, the necklace felt like more than just an heirloom.
Isabella knew he was teasing, but the offer still left her momentarily speechless.
Alexander was infuriatingly hard to read.
“This is your mother’s keepsake,” she said finally, pushing down the emotions tangled inside her. “I wouldn’t dare take it from you.”
She forced a light smile. “A photo will do.”
She expected Alexander to call a servant to fetch the necklace.
Instead, he began unbuttoning his shirt.
“The clasp at the back is tricky,” he said casually. “I might need your help.”
Alexander rarely loosened his collar, always keeping it buttoned to the top.
As each button came undone, his long fingers revealed more of his collarbone—and the necklace.
Its serpentine design, adorned with jeweled red eyes, glinted in the light.
“Or,” he added, reclining slightly on the sofa, his gaze pulling her in like gravity, “you can just take the photo now.”
Wild. Magnetic.
As always.
