Chapter 9: Heartfelt Confessions
826 Words
That Evening – By the Fire
The flames projected shifting shadows over Alexander’s face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jawline. He sat across from me on the outside patio, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his expression contemplative.
I wrapped the blanket tightly around my shoulders. "So, what is this place to you?"
He sighed, peering into the flames as if the solution was hidden beneath the ashes. “This place reminds me of my mother."
I still could not say anything because we had never discussed anything relating to that.
"You don’t talk about her much," I remarked gently.
He shook his head. "Because there’s not much to say."
"That’s a lie." I interrupted him.
A sour smirk tinged his lips. "Perhaps."
Silence spread between us, pleasant but weighty.
Finally, he spoke again. "She was the only person who ever looked at me and didn’t see a Steele. To her, I wasn’t an heir, or an asset, or a business strategy. I was just… her son."
Something in my chest hurt.
"She died when I was ten," he said, his voice softer now. "After that, my father made sure I understood exactly what was expected of me in life."
"What was it?" His eyes raised to meet mine. "To never be weak. To never allow somebody to get close enough to be a weakness to me."
A lump developed in my throat. "And yet, you married me."
The firelight reflected in his eyes, making them burn even darker. "And yet, I married you."
Something about the way he said it made my pulse stutter.
Alexander laid his drink down and leaned forward, his hands resting on my lap. "Isabella, do you know why I proposed to you?"
I swallowed. "For the transaction. The merging."
His lips squeezed together. "That’s what I told myself at first."
The way he was looking at me—intensely, unwavering—I suddenly found it impossible to concentrate. My mind was now thinking of something naughty.
"But the truth?" His voice was nearly a whisper now. "I wanted someone I could trust. Someone who looked past my name and my money." He breathed sharply. "Someone who sees me and takes me for who I am without thinking of my money."
My throat clenched.
"I don’t know if I’m that person, Alexander," I acknowledged. "I don’t know if I can be."
His hand stretched for mine and wrapped it around my wrist. "Why not?"
"Because if I fell for you," I said, "you could destroy me."
His hold tightened, not in possession, but in something close to desperation. "I would never."
I wanted to believe him.
God, I wanted to believe him.
But trust has never been easy for me to talk more about love. Love is risky. Love was a weapon that might be used against me.
I have the scars to prove it.
Alexander’s thumb stroked across my knuckles. "Isabella," he whispered. "Are you falling for me?"
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t need to.
My quiet was enough.
A shadow of a grin flashed at his lips. "You are, aren’t you?"
I sighed, removing my hand from his. "It doesn’t matter."
"Of course, it matters." He interjected.
I shook my head. "Even if I was, what happens after this contract is over?
His jaw clenched. "Then we will renegotiate."
A chuckle popped up before I could not stop it. "You make everything sound like a business transaction."
He grinned. "It’s because that is the only language I’m fluent in."
I rolled my eyes. "That’s sad, Alex," I responded, focusing my gaze on him.
"Is it?" He drew closer, his breath warm across my face. "Because right now, I think it’s working in our favour."
I opened my lips to retort—
Then my phone buzzed.
I looked at the screen, and immediately, my heart raced to my mother.
Mom: Isabella. Call me. Now. It’s about him.
All the warmth from moments earlier evaporated. My fingers clenched around my phone as my gut wrenched violently.
No.
Not now.
Not when I was starting to feel… secure.
"Isabella?" Alexander frowned. "What is wrong?"
I gazed at the message, my heart thumping.
What did I mean to say? That the history I had tried so hard to bury was fighting its way back to the surface? That my carefully crafted barriers were ready to shatter?
That if he learned the truth, he may never look at me the same way again?
I swallowed hard, twisting my look into something neutral. "It’s nothing," I responded hastily. "Just my mother."
Alexander examined me, his eyes dark with mistrust.
I switched off my phone before he could notice my hands trembling.
But deep inside, I understood the truth.
This wasn’t anything.
And whatever was coming…
It was going to alter everything.
Who was ‘him’? And what mystery had Isabella been fleeing from all this time?
Find out in the next chapter!
- Writer
