The restaurant buzzed with quiet conversations, the soft clinking of glasses, the occasional murmur of laughter. But for Isabella, everything faded into the background.
Because across the room, Ethan Lancaster was watching her.
His gaze was a vice, locking her in place.
Unmoving. Unwavering. Unrelenting.
She curled her fingers around her wine glass, trying to ignore the way her pulse stuttered.
Daniel shifted in his seat, following her line of sight. A low sigh left his lips. "He's not going to stop, is he?"
Isabella forced a sip of wine past the lump in her throat. "Ignore him."
Daniel scoffed, setting his drink down a little too hard. "Ignoring Ethan Lancaster is like pretending a wildfire won't reach you just because you turned your back on it."
She didn't answer.
Because he was right.
She felt Ethan, even with the distance between them. The weight of his stare. The quiet storm brewing beneath his composed exterior.
Her hands trembled slightly, betraying the chaos inside her.
Daniel exhaled, rubbing his temples. "I should go over there and—"
"Don't." Her fingers wrapped around his wrist before he could rise.
Daniel stilled, his gaze flickering between their touching hands and her face. Then his expression darkened. "You're afraid of what he'll do."
Not to me. To you.
She didn't say it aloud. But Daniel read it in her silence.
His jaw clenched. "This isn't normal, Isabella."
She forced a brittle smile. "Neither is Ethan."
Daniel leaned back, his frustration evident. He had more to say, but he didn't push.
Tension thickened, settling between them like a living thing.
And then—
Ethan was gone.
A cold shiver slid down her spine.
The chair he'd occupied was empty. His drink, untouched.
He had left without a sound.
Without a warning.
And that was somehow more terrifying than his presence.
Daniel's frown deepened. "I don't trust him."
Neither did she.
But that didn't stop her from wanting him.
And that... that was the real problem.
Later That Night
The lock clicked into place behind her.
Isabella exhaled, pressing her forehead against the door.
Her heart still pounded from dinner. From him.
She needed a moment to collect herself.
But the moment never came.
Because she wasn't alone.
A chill slithered down her spine.
Slowly, she turned—
And froze.
Ethan.
He stood in the shadows, his presence stretching across the dimly lit room.
He didn't speak. He didn't move.
But his eyes—
Dark. Blazing. Possessive.
"How did you get in here?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.
He held up a key. "I have my ways."
Her stomach twisted. "That's breaking and entering, Ethan."
A ghost of a smirk flickered at the corner of his lips. "You should know by now—I don't play by the rules when it comes to you."
She took a slow step back, pressing against the door. "You're out of control."
His expression darkened. "No, Isabella. You are."
Her breath caught. "Excuse me?"
He took another step forward, his presence swallowing the space between them. "You let another man take you to dinner. You let him touch you. And you think I should just sit back and accept it?"
Her pulse skittered. "You don't own me."
Ethan's fingers traced the line of her jaw, tilting her chin up until their eyes met.
A whisper of a touch. A warning. A promise.
"Then why do you let me have you?"
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Because that was the real question, wasn't it?
Why did she let him invade her world? Why did she let him consume her, seep into every thought, every breath?
Ethan's thumb grazed her lower lip, his voice dropping to something raw, something dangerous.
"You say you want me to stop," he murmured. "But you don't. Do you?"
A war raged inside her.
She should push him away.
She should run.
But instead—
She leaned in.
Just a fraction. Just enough for her breath to mix with his.
And it was enough.
Ethan snapped.
His lips crushed against hers, the kiss a collision of anger, hunger, possession.
She gasped against his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair as his hands gripped her waist, pulling her into the fire.
It was madness.
It was forbidden.
But she didn't stop him.
She couldn't.
And when he finally pulled away, forehead resting against hers, his breath ragged, he whispered the words that sealed her fate.
"You are mine, Isabella. And I will never let you go."
Her heart pounded.
Because for the first time—
She believed him.
And worse?
She wanted it to be true.