Chapter 90
Isabella glanced at Alexander through the rearview mirror, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a whirlwind.
His kiss had stunned her—not because she hadn’t expected passion, but because of its raw, almost desperate intensity. It had felt inevitable, as if the tension between them had been building toward that single moment of collision.
The DNA results had already confirmed they weren’t related, but the pull she felt toward him was something deeper, something that defied logic. It wasn’t just attraction—it was as if her soul recognized his.
She wasn’t some naive girl who didn’t understand desire. Far from it.
And she knew Alexander felt it too. It was in the way his gaze lingered, in the heat of his touch. But what it was—that was the mystery. Like trying to hold moonlight in her hands.
Still, getting closer to him would make accessing his grandmother easier.
“He’s got skill, I’ll admit that. But why is he hiding in that wheelchair?” Isabella murmured as she drove.
Alexander presented himself as cold, untouchable—but that kiss had revealed a wildfire beneath the ice. It had been fierce, almost reckless, as if they were both moments away from losing control.
That was what fascinated her about him. The contradiction. The way he could be so composed on the surface and yet so dangerously unrestrained beneath.
“How does someone like him even tolerate ceramics?” The thought amused her. The idea of a man with that much intensity sitting quietly, shaping clay, seemed almost absurd.
When she arrived home, Olivia was waiting with a glass of iced tea and a knowing smirk.
“Isabella, darling, how was class today? Any little prodigies giving you trouble?”
Before Isabella could answer, Olivia’s sharp eyes zeroed in on her lips—slightly swollen, faintly glossy.
With Isabella’s naturally full lips, the effect was impossible to ignore.
Olivia arched a brow. “Don’t even try to lie. Those lips didn’t get like that from talking. Who kissed you?”
She grabbed Isabella’s wrist, grinning. “Come on, spill.”
“Uh… allergic reaction,” Isabella said, instinctively touching her mouth.
Olivia scoffed, unconvinced. Isabella took a quick sip of her tea, smoothly redirecting.
“I taught a girl today—incredibly talented. Picked up my technique in one try. Hands steady as a surgeon’s. But she’s trapped in her own world. Art isn’t just about skill—it’s about feeling. If you’ve never truly lived, how can you create something real? Her work lacks soul, but… I like her. She’s autistic. It’s not an easy road, but we’ll take it slow.”
Olivia, uninterested in pottery philosophy, smirked. “So you went to the Kingsleys’ today. Any leads?”
“Clues? Nothing handed to me on a silver platter.” Isabella’s tone was light, but then she dropped the real revelation. “But did you know Alexander wears a pendant?”
Olivia blinked. “A pendant? Never noticed.” It wasn’t surprising—Alexander always dressed like a corporate statue, his shirts buttoned to the throat.
“The design matches the snake bracelet my mother left me,” Isabella continued. “Same craftsmanship. He says it was his grandmother’s.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. She knew how long Isabella had been searching for answers about that bracelet. Finding a connection at the Kingsley mansion was unexpected.
“You’re joking. Please tell me you two aren’t secretly related.”
Isabella shook her head. “No. The DNA results were clear. Alexander is his mother’s biological son. His mother, Giselle Kingsley, died years ago—so she’s not the link. That leaves his grandmother, Cassandra. I need to meet her.”
Olivia nodded slowly, understanding the weight of the discovery. “You know I’ve got your back.”
Then, with a sly grin, she circled back. “Isabella… I think Mr. Kingsley has a thing for you. I’ve never seen him act like this with anyone else. And knowing you…” She leaned in, voice teasing. “Come on. Admit it.”
