The room was suffocatingly silent. Isabella stood at the edge of the large window in Ethan's penthouse, her fingers grazing the glass as she stared at the city below. The world outside moved as if nothing had changed, as if her life hadn't spiraled into something unrecognizable.
She hated this place. She hated the feeling of being trapped here, yet no matter how many times she told herself she would leave, something always stopped her.
Him.
Ethan Lancaster was a force of nature—impossible to resist, impossible to ignore. He was both the fire that threatened to consume her and the only warmth she could find in the cold reality of her existence.
"Lost in thought?" His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Isabella turned to see him standing by the door, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored black trousers. Even in the dim lighting, his presence filled the room, making it feel smaller. He always had that effect, controlling the space around him without saying a word.
"I was thinking about leaving," she admitted, keeping her voice steady.
Ethan's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "And yet, you're still here."
His words unsettled her because they were true. Every time she thought she had the strength to run, she found herself right back where she started.
"I don't want to be your prisoner, Ethan."
"You're not my prisoner, Isabella." He took slow, measured steps toward her. "You're mine."
Her breath hitched as he closed the distance between them.
"I don't belong to you," she whispered.
Ethan reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. His touch was deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the possessiveness in his gaze.
"You keep telling yourself that," he murmured, his lips a breath away from hers.
Isabella clenched her fists at her sides, trying to ignore the way her body responded to him. This was what terrified her the most—not Ethan's control, not his obsession, but the way he made her feel.
A mixture of fear and desire.
She should push him away, but instead, she remained still.
"Why me?" she finally asked, her voice almost desperate. "Why are you doing this?"
Ethan's jaw tightened, and for the first time, she saw something raw in his eyes. "Because you're the only thing I've ever wanted that I couldn't have."
His confession sent a sharp pang through her chest. She was his obsession, but was that all she would ever be?
Before she could say anything, Ethan's phone buzzed in his pocket. He let out a frustrated sigh and pulled it out, his expression darkening as he read the message.
"I have to take care of something," he said, stepping back. "Don't go anywhere."
She should have been relieved, but as he walked away, all she felt was the weight of his words lingering in the air.
Was she truly caught between desire and fear, or had she already surrendered to both?