Chapter 10
The chaos still echoed through the mansion like distant thunder.
Alexander had nearly erupted. His fury, raw and volcanic. His voice had dropped to a deadly calm as he stood before everyone, a storm contained only by sheer will.
“If you ever touch her again,” he’d said through clenched teeth, “I’ll make sure the lawsuit buries you so deep, not even your name survives it.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Drew and his mother didn’t dare move.
Adrenaline still surged in my veins as I escaped the tension, slipping away into the dining hall. I sank onto one of the velvet sofas, my pulse still racing, my cheek faintly stinging from Gratia’s slap.
Nadia sat across the room, her hands gently cradling her swollen belly. Her green floral gown clung delicately to her figure, the soft fabric blooming around her like spring. Her hair, swept into a neat knot, bore an eerie resemblance to Gratia’s.
She looked at me, eyes brimming with sympathy.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “For what my mother-in-law did to you. She’s… a hard woman.”
I gave a weak smile, brushing my fingers over my cheek. “It’s fine. I’m getting used to it.”
“She’s never been nice to you, has she?” Nadia asked, voice low.
“Some things never change,” I murmured.
A small silence stretched between us.
“How’s the baby?” I asked, steering the conversation away.
Nadia lit up. “Oh, we’re doing fine. At least, I hope so.” She let out a shy chuckle. “We don’t know the gender yet. Drew wants a boy… but of course, Gratia’s hoping for a girl.”
“Of course she is,” I muttered, glancing toward the window.
Nadia laughed lightly, but the sound barely lingered before a voice thundered through the room.
“Beatrice!”
I turned just as Alexander stormed in, his black suit jacket flaring behind him like a cape. His presence sucked the air from the room.
“Come. Let’s go,” he commanded, not sparing Nadia a glance.
Before I could respond, his hand wrapped around my wrist, yanking me gently but firmly to my feet. My conversation ended in an instant.
“Alex, I—” I started, but he didn’t pause.
He didn’t speak again until we were behind the closed doors of his bedroom.
The door slammed.
He tore his tie from his neck with a sharp flick, jaw clenched in frustration.
The room felt heavier now, thick with unspoken tension.
He turned toward me, scanning me from head to toe with eyes so sharp, I felt stripped bare. His gaze lingered… not in anger, but something else.
His entire demeanor shifted—less ice, more fire. His eyes softened just slightly, yet held a heat that made my pulse skip.
“You look beautiful,” he said finally, voice low and rough.
I blinked, unsure if I’d heard right.
“I like your new hairstyle,” he added, gaze grazing my curls like a touch. “And that dress… it makes you look soft. Feminine.”
He took a step closer.
“And utterly desirable.”
My breath hitched.
The heat in his eyes wasn’t subtle anymore.
“Please, Alex…” I murmured, turning away quickly to hide the flush rising in my cheeks. I sank onto the edge of his bed, palms sweating.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moved to the far side of the room, seating himself in the oversized mahogany chair, removing his watch with slow, deliberate movements.
“You really do blush easily,” he said finally, watching me with maddening calm. “Don’t let Gratia lay a hand on you again. She doesn’t own you.”
He leaned back lazily, leg crossed over the other. “If you’re afraid of her… that’ll be your downfall.”
His words sliced deeper than I expected.
“She slapped me,” I muttered under my breath. “That woman is terrible.”
“I saw,” he said flatly. “I can literally see her fingers imprinted on your face.”
The casual way he said it made it sting more.
“You should grow a backbone,” he added. “You’re not a porcelain doll.”
I stared at him, heart pounding. His voice sounded so cold—like I was a naïve child he had no patience for.
He rose, walking toward his wardrobe. He began unbuttoning his shirt, slow and precise, like he had all the time in the world.
And I, embarrassingly found myself watching.
His muscles rippled beneath the fabric as he shrugged the suit jacket off his shoulders, tossing it aside.
“I wanted to thank you,” I said awkwardly, trying to gather my thoughts. “For transferring my mother… to a different hospital. I’m sure she’ll recover faster there.”
He didn’t look at me. “I’m just fulfilling my part of the contract. It’s your turn to do yours.”
His fingers moved to his belt. The sound of the metal buckle unfastening made my pulse spike.
Then he stilled.
And turned.
His eyes found mine, mocking and smug.
“Planning to stay for the show?”
My face went up in flames.
“I—I’ll just be in the bathroom,” I stammered, scrambling off the bed, nearly tripping over my own feet as I bolted into the bathroom and shut the door.
His low chuckle echoed behind me.
Leaning against the door, I tried to steady my breath. My heart raced like I’d just run a marathon.
What is wrong with me?!
Just then, his voice came again teasing and arrogant from the other side.
“You do realize I need the bathroom too, right?”
Before I could respond, the doorknob twisted.
“Open up, Isla. I need a shower. You can go back to your room if you want.”
I barely had time to protest before the door swung open—
his hand on the knob, his bare chest fully exposed.
And I had no choice but to stare.
Right into his sculpted chest, the ridges of muscle dipping down to the towel slung low on his hips.
And then his icy eyes locked onto mine.