Chapter 279
The space between them crackled with unspoken tension, the faint aroma of freshly cut grass mingling with something darker, more intoxicating. The air itself seemed charged, alive with possibility.
Alexander’s shirt hung open, the usual composed facade slipping away to reveal something wild and untamed beneath. Isabella felt her pulse quicken, her skin tingling with anticipation.
When their gazes met, the world narrowed to just the two of them—until reality intruded with a sharp knock at the door.
“Mr. Kingsley,” a voice called from the hallway, “the board requires your presence for an emergency meeting tonight.”
Alexander’s response was smooth, controlled. “Understood.”
The footsteps retreated, but the moment was already fractured. The office, once a sanctuary, now felt exposed—the large windows offering no privacy, the door a constant threat of interruption.
Though nothing had happened, the air between them hummed with the weight of what could have been.
Isabella took an unsteady step back, her heel catching on the edge of the rug. She stumbled—
Only for Alexander’s arm to snap around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
“Careful, Ms. Sinclair,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. His grip was firm, his palm searing through the thin silk of her blouse.
Her hand pressed against his chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The space between them grew impossibly hot, neither willing to yield. Outside, the breeze teased the curtains, a whisper of the world beyond—one that didn’t matter right now.
Isabella could feel his breath against her skin, the memory of that night on the yacht flooding back—his mouth on hers, the way she’d gasped his name—
Her pulse stuttered.
Before, she could dismiss their chemistry as fleeting. But now? Now, the stakes were higher.
She forced a laugh, stepping back. “Thank you, Mr. Kingsley. You can let go now.” She arched a brow, teasing. “Unless you want James to think you’re pursuing me.”
Alexander’s fingers loosened, but his expression remained unreadable.
Just when she thought he’d let it go, his voice cut through the silence.
“Ms. Sinclair,” he said, his gaze piercing, “what are we?”
The question hung between them, heavy.
Isabella opened her mouth to deflect—to laugh it off like she always did—but something stopped her.
This wasn’t just playful banter anymore.
She steadied herself. “We’re business partners, Mr. Kingsley. That’s all.”
In this world, alliances were temporary. The only thing that lasted was mutual benefit.
She needed to remember that.
A flicker of something—disappointment? Amusement?—crossed Alexander’s face. “Right. Of course.”
He understood. She was drawing a line.
But then—
His hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could turn away.
“Alexander—”
His mouth crashed down on hers.
