The air between them was thick with something unspoken, something neither of them wanted to acknowledge but could no longer ignore.
Isabella sat on the edge of the massive bed, her fingers gripping the soft fabric of the sheets. She had barely slept. The weight of her own choices—of her own inaction—pressed down on her like a vice.
She hadn't run.
Ethan had given her the chance to walk away, to disappear from his life forever. And she had stayed.
Why?
That single question tormented her.
Was it because she was afraid of what he would do if she left? Or was it something else? Something far more dangerous?
The thought made her stomach twist.
She couldn't be falling for him.
It wasn't possible. It wasn't right.
And yet…
Her heart had betrayed her the moment she hesitated.
The moment she realized that a part of her had already chosen him.
—
Ethan leaned against the doorway, watching her.
She hadn't noticed him yet, lost in whatever thoughts were plaguing her.
He could see the conflict written all over her face.
She was fighting it—fighting him.
But she was losing.
He smirked.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Isabella jumped at the sound of his voice, her head snapping up. "How long have you been standing there?"
He pushed off the doorframe and strolled toward her. "Long enough."
She scowled, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't remember inviting you in."
Ethan chuckled. "You didn't. But then again, you don't have to."
She clenched her jaw, glaring at him. "You really think you own me, don't you?"
Ethan tilted his head, studying her. "No." He paused. "I think you're realizing that you want to be mine."
Her breath hitched. "That's not true."
His smirk deepened. "Isn't it?"
He took another step closer, and she instinctively backed up—only to realize she was already sitting on the bed. There was nowhere else to go.
He leaned in, his hands braced on either side of her, caging her in. "Tell me to leave, Isabella."
She swallowed hard.
It was so simple. Just two words.
Leave, Ethan.
But she couldn't say them.
Because the truth—the dark, painful truth—was that she didn't want him to.
And he knew it.
Ethan chuckled softly. "That's what I thought."
She hated him.
Hated the way he always seemed one step ahead of her. Hated the way he made her question herself. Hated the way her body responded to him, no matter how much her mind rebelled.
"Go to hell," she whispered.
His lips brushed against her ear. "I'm already there, sweetheart."
And then, just as quickly as he had invaded her space, he pulled away.
Isabella was left breathless, heart hammering against her ribs as she watched him stroll toward the door.
He paused, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "You should get some rest. You're going to need it."
She frowned. "For what?"
Ethan's smirk was wicked. "You'll see."
And then he was gone.
Leaving her alone with the one thing she feared more than him.
Herself.
—
Isabella didn't sleep.
She couldn't.
Her mind was a chaotic mess, replaying every interaction, every touch, every moment she had shared with Ethan.
And with each memory, the truth became clearer.
She was losing herself.
Or maybe, just maybe…
She had already lost.