Chapter 243
Alexander’s voice was like dark silk, smooth yet laced with something unspoken as his gaze lingered on Isabella. Though his expression remained impassive, his fingers curled slightly at his side, betraying the tension beneath.
Isabella responded with a dry smile.
“Oh, I believe you, Mr. Kingsley. After all, you’ve made it quite clear just how… valuable I am to your grandmother and Amelia.”
Beneath the surface, Isabella had become so deeply entwined with Charisma Company that any scandal involving her would send shockwaves through its valuation. Her casual remark was more a reminder to herself than to him—she needed to stay sharp around this enigmatic, unpredictable man. Their connection was nothing more than a strategic alliance.
Yet, despite knowing that, she couldn’t ignore the way her pulse stuttered whenever he spoke.
This was unfamiliar territory.
People like them, masters of calculated detachment, didn’t get tangled in emotions over something as fleeting as a single night.
After a brief pause, she added, “That said, I should thank you for showing up today. Perfect timing.”
“It was nothing,” Alexander replied, his eyes shadowed, as if suppressing thoughts that didn’t belong in the open.
The evening breeze was soft against their skin, the dim glow of streetlights stretching their shadows long and thin. For a moment, those shadows merged, mimicking the illusion of intimacy.
Alexander’s gaze flickered away from them. He understood—Isabella’s words were a deliberate reinforcement of boundaries.
Glancing upward, he said casually, “My grandfather only had a passing acquaintance with William. But now that my condition is public, it’s only right I pay my respects. Besides, in the Kingsley family, we’re always surrounded by wolves. Expanding one’s network is never a bad idea.”
His reasoning was sound, his words hinting at the intricate power plays of the elite.
“I see,” Isabella replied, her smile tight.
They walked in silence, the weight of unspoken understanding settling between them. Isabella clutched the brocade box in her hands, emotions churning. For someone who faced nearly everything with steel resolve, this unfamiliar sensation—being cared for—left her unsettled.
The Ruby Jade inside, crafted with an elder’s affection, wasn’t just a gift. It was a talisman, meant to fortify her confidence.
Noticing her focus on the box, Alexander broke the quiet. “Even without blood ties, the bond you shared with William was deeper than most families ever achieve.”
“He treated me like his own,” Isabella admitted softly, tilting her face toward the star-strewn sky. “But I always knew I didn’t belong with the Blackwoods.”
A flicker of satisfaction crossed Alexander’s face. “William wouldn’t have minded. He only wanted happiness for those he cared about—much like you.”
Isabella smiled faintly. “Even if someone in your family has ill intentions, I know your grandmother and Amelia only want your happiness. Your freedom.”
It was true—they were alike. Both shielded themselves with ice, yet burned with loyalty for the few they cherished.
Her mention of freedom tugged at Alexander’s memory—that night he’d laid bare his most vulnerable secret to her. Even the way he’d surrendered to a silicone mannequin, she’d understood without judgment.
Afterward, they’d both pretended nothing happened.
That night, she’d whispered something similar—urging him to defy suffocating expectations.
Alexander’s gaze darkened. “You’re right.”
When they reached the parking garage, the moment to part lingered. Unexpectedly, they spoke at once.
“This weekend—”
“I—”
Their words collided. Alexander’s lips quirked into a rare, helpless smile. “Ladies first, Ms. Sinclair.”
Isabella laughed, the tension easing. “I have commitments next weekend, so I won’t be able to tutor Amelia. Thought I’d give you advance notice.”
“Quite the coincidence,” Alexander replied smoothly. “I was planning to take Amelia out myself. Consider it a break.”
“Perfect,” Isabella said, lifting a hand in farewell. “Then I’ll see you the week after.”
She didn’t dwell on it. Olivia had enrolled her in a competition, and she needed the time to prepare. Now that she was free of her marriage, Isabella was reclaiming her life. If her years with the Blackwoods had been about playing by their rules, now she would write her own.
“See you, Ms. Sinclair,” Alexander murmured, watching as she drove away.
Long after her taillights vanished, he remained, staring into the distance, contemplating the uncertain path ahead for them both.
