Chapter 280
Compared to the controlled, calculated kisses they’d shared before, this one was pure chaos—wild, desperate, and utterly consuming.
Isabella Sinclair found herself momentarily stunned, her breath stolen by the sheer intensity of Alexander Kingsley’s assault on her senses.
She had always been the one who dictated the rules, the queen of her own fate, yet here she was—pinned against the wall, her body responding against her will to the raw dominance in his touch.
The cold surface of the wall pressed into her back, but it did nothing to quell the heat spreading through her veins. His hand cradled the base of her skull, possessive and unyielding, while the other slid dangerously low on her waist, as if daring her to push him away.
Their breaths tangled, hot and uneven, the air between them thick with unspoken desire.
Alexander’s knee pressed between hers, a silent demand for surrender, but Isabella had never been one to submit.
Even as the kiss threatened to unravel her, she retaliated—sharp teeth sinking into his lower lip, drawing blood.
The metallic tang flooded her mouth, a brutal reminder of the line they’d just crossed.
“Alexander, have you lost your damn mind?” she gasped, her voice laced with disbelief.
Instead of anger, a low, humorless laugh escaped him.
“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But I’d rather be insane than watch you walk away again.”
He was Alexander Kingsley—CEO of Charisma Company, heir to the Kingsley empire, a man who commanded fear and respect in equal measure.
Yet here he stood, vulnerable, his fate resting in her hands.
Isabella didn’t know what to say.
He had crossed a line, but the guilt twisting in her chest made her feel like the cruel one.
This kiss had changed everything.
What had once been a game of power had morphed into something deeper—something neither of them could control.
Her gaze hardened as she finally spoke, her voice icy. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Kingsley. But if this is some kind of ploy—”
“Sorry.” The word was rough, laced with self-mockery.
Slowly, he released her, the fire in his eyes dimming into something more restrained.
“Ms. Sinclair,” he murmured, his lips still stained with blood, “just humor me for a moment. Pretend I’m not in my right mind.”
A flicker of unease ran through her.
Even Alexander couldn’t explain why, despite his disbelief in love, he kept losing control around her.
The thought of her pulling away was unbearable—so much so that he’d rather bleed than let it happen.
“I just need to know,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Do you really find me that repulsive?”
Isabella’s brows furrowed.
Repulsive?
The memory of the kiss burned in her mind—the heat, the desperation, the way her body had responded despite her better judgment.
Even now, the taste of him lingered.
Truthfully, in bed, Alexander was more than just a wealthy CEO. His stamina was legendary, his touch intoxicating.
But she had only ever seen him as a means to an end—a way to get closer to Amelia and Cassandra, to uncover the secrets she needed.
Logically, this should have been a victory. He had taken the bait.
So why did it feel like she was the one caught in the trap?
“Not repulsive,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “But that doesn’t mean you can just—”
“Let’s pretend today never happened,” she finally said, offering him an out. “We’ll stay partners. Once Cassandra’s treatment is over…”
Alexander already knew what came next.
It would end in goodbye.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had sworn never to fall for anyone, yet here was Isabella—the one exception to every rule he’d ever made.
Maybe it had been inevitable from the moment they met.
“Isabella,” he said her name like a prayer, and for the first time, it felt like more than just a name.
The weight of it pulled her in.
His tall frame was mostly swallowed by shadows, the faint breeze tousling his dark hair. In the silence between them, their breaths and heartbeats synced, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.
“Tell me how to make you mine.”
