The air between them crackled with tension.
Ethan's eyes darkened, his fingers clenching at his sides as if he was restraining himself from grabbing her right then and there.
Isabella knew she had just crossed a line—one that Ethan would never forgive.
Damien smirked, seemingly unfazed by the storm brewing before him. "Well, that was unexpected," he murmured, his fingers brushing against Isabella's waist in a deliberate gesture. "But I can't say I mind."
Ethan's reaction was instant.
His fist slammed into Damien's jaw with a force that sent him stumbling back. Gasps erupted around them as the gala guests watched in stunned silence.
Isabella's heart pounded.
Ethan never lost control in public.
Never.
But now, standing before her, his breathing ragged, his expression murderous—he was anything but composed.
Damien wiped the blood from his lip, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Touched a nerve, did I?"
"Stay away from her," Ethan growled, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with lethal promise.
Isabella stepped between them, her hands pressed against Ethan's chest. "Stop this. Now."
Ethan's gaze flickered to her, and for a moment, something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Then, before she could react, his fingers wrapped around her wrist.
"We're leaving," he stated.
Isabella stiffened. "Excuse me?"
Ethan's grip tightened. "Now."
She yanked her hand back. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
Something dark flashed in his eyes. "Isabella."
Damien chuckled. "She's free to do as she pleases, Lancaster. You don't own her."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "Not yet."
Isabella shivered.
The way he said it—it wasn't a question. It was a promise.
Before she could respond, Ethan grabbed her hand again. "I'm done playing games. You're coming with me."
A shiver of anticipation and fear ran down her spine.
But she wasn't going to let him control her.
Not like this.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "And if I say no?"
Ethan exhaled slowly, his fingers grazing her cheek in a way that was both possessive and terrifyingly gentle.
"You won't," he murmured.
And the terrifying part?
She wasn't sure if he was wrong.
The drive to Ethan's penthouse was silent.
Isabella's fingers curled into her lap as she tried to process what had just happened.
Ethan hadn't given her a choice. He had simply taken her, walking out of the gala as if she belonged to him.
She should have fought harder.
But deep down, she knew—Ethan Lancaster was a force of nature.
And she was caught in his storm.
When they arrived, Ethan didn't speak. He led her into his penthouse, his grip never loosening.
The moment the door shut behind them, he turned to her.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Isabella's breath caught. "Excuse me?"
"That kiss." His voice was low, dangerous. "You did that to provoke me."
She forced herself to hold his gaze. "And what if I did?"
His eyes darkened, and before she could react, he had her pressed against the wall, his hands caging her in.
"I told you, Isabella," he murmured, his breath fanning against her skin. "I don't share."
A shiver ran through her.
"Then maybe you should learn how," she whispered.
Ethan's fingers traced her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle.
"I don't learn," he murmured. "I take."
Her breath hitched.
And then, before she could say another word, his lips crashed against hers.
It wasn't a kiss.
It was a claim.
The kiss left Isabella breathless, her mind spinning.
Ethan pulled away, his gaze searching hers.
His voice was a whisper. "You feel it too, don't you?"
She did.
And that terrified her.
Because if she admitted it…
She wouldn't be able to run anymore.
And she wasn't sure she wanted to.