OFF LIMIT

Chapter 9

Theo's POV

The meeting was going exactly as I expected.

Numbers.

Projections.

Deadlines.

The usual.

I sat at the head of the table, listening to one of my senior managers explain the latest figures while I went through the documents in front of me.

My phone vibrated against the table.

I glanced at the screen.

Isabella.

My brows furrowed.

She wouldn't normally call me at this time.

I excused myself quietly and answered.

"Isabella?"

Silence.

I heard her breathing.

Uneven.

Shaky.

My entire body went still.

"Isabella?"

She tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

My chair scraped against the floor as I stood.

"What happened?"

"Theo..."

Her voice.

God.

There was something wrong with it.

Pain.

Fear.

I had known Isabella for most of her life. I knew her moods. I knew when she was upset, when she was angry, when she was pretending everything was fine.

This wasn't any of those things.

This was fear.

"Where are you?"

"I..."

Her voice broke.

I tightened my grip around the phone.

"Tell me where you are."

She gave me the location.

I didn't think twice.

"I'm coming."

I ended the call and looked at the people around the table.

"We're done."

Nobody questioned me.

I grabbed my keys and walked out.

I had no idea what had happened.

But I knew one thing.

Whatever it was, Isabella was hurting.

And I needed to get to her.

The moment I saw her, something inside my chest twisted.

She was sitting in a corner by the pavement, curled into herself.

Crying.

Her shoulders were shaking.

Her face was buried partly in her hands, and she looked so small sitting there alone that for a second I simply stood frozen.

That wasn't the Isabella I knew.

She was usually bright.

Strong.

Stubborn.

Always ready with some sarcastic remark whenever I told her what to do.

Seeing her like this hurt in a way I couldn't explain.

"Isabella."

Her head lifted.

The second her eyes found me, she stood.

She crossed the distance between us without saying a word.

Then she threw her arms around me.

I caught her immediately.

My arms went around her instinctively, holding her together as she broke against my chest.

"Hey."

I lowered my voice.

"I'm here."

She was trembling.

I could feel every shaky breath against me.

I didn't ask questions.

Not yet.

I held her until her breathing became slightly less frantic.

Then I heard her voice.

Barely a whisper.

"Please."

I looked down at her.

"What?"

"Take me away from here."

My jaw clenched.

Something had happened.

Something bad.

And whoever or whatever had caused this was already beginning to feel my anger.

But not toward her.

Never toward her.

Right now, she needed safety.

"Okay."

I pulled back just enough to look at her.

"You're coming home with me."

She nodded.

I guided her toward my car.

I opened the passenger door and waited until she was seated before reaching across to pull the seatbelt over her.

"Stay here."

I closed the door gently.

Then I walked around to the driver's side.

The moment I started the engine, I glanced at her.

She was staring out the window.

Silent.

I drove.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

Then I looked over again.

Her hands were resting in her lap.

That's when I saw it.

Red marks around her wrist.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

I forced myself to loosen them.

Not now.

I wasn't going to frighten her further.

I reached into the centre console and handed her a bottle of water.

"Drink some."

She took it with shaking hands.

She barely drank.

I let out a quiet breath.

"Isabella."

She looked at me.

"What happened?"

She swallowed.

"I didn't get the job."

I waited.

"The interviewer..."

Her voice trembled.

"He insulted me."

My eyes remained on the road.

"What did he say?"

She looked down.

"Just things."

"What things?"

"He said I wasn't good enough."

I said nothing.

Something about the answer didn't sit right.

Isabella was sensitive.

She cared deeply about what the people she loved thought of her.

But strangers?

No.

She could handle criticism from people she didn't know.

She might be hurt by it, but she wouldn't be sitting on the side of the road shaking like this.

I knew her.

And she wasn't telling me everything.

I drove for another minute before finally pulling the car to the side of the road.

I turned off the engine.

Then I looked at her.

"Isabella."

She kept her eyes lowered.

"I know you're not telling me everything."

She didn't respond.

I reached over and gently took her chin between my fingers, making her look at me.

"Look at me."

Her eyes met mine.

"I know you."

My voice stayed calm.

"You wouldn't be like this just because you didn't get a job."

Her lips trembled.

"You're sensitive. I know that."

I softened my grip.

"But you don't give a damn about some outsider's opinion of you. You care about the people close to you. Your family. The people you love."

Her eyes filled again.

"So tell me what happened."

She stared at me for several seconds.

Then her voice broke.

"He harassed me."

Everything inside me went cold.

"What?"

"The interviewer."

She wiped at her cheek.

"He started making comments about me. About the way I looked. My body."

My jaw tightened.

"He kept saying things even after I told him to stop."

I said nothing.

"He wouldn't listen."

Her breathing became uneven again.

"I told him I was going to report him."

She swallowed.

"He said he was the boss. He said nobody would do anything."

My hands curled into fists.

"He grabbed me."

The words came out quietly.

"He grabbed my wrist."

I looked down at the red marks.

Now I understood.

My anger came so fast I had to take a breath before I spoke.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No."

She shook her head quickly.

"I got away."

I nodded slowly.

"Okay."

I reached for her hand.

"You got away."

She nodded.

"And you called me."

Another nod.

"You did the right thing."

I started the car again.

I didn't say anything else.

Because if I did, I wasn't sure what would come out.

When we reached home, I took care of her myself.

I made sure she ate something.

I got her comfortable.

I brought her water.

I asked her if she needed anything.

She kept saying no.

Eventually, exhaustion took over.

I watched her fall asleep.

For several minutes, I simply stood there.

She looked peaceful now.

Nothing like the girl I'd found sitting alone on that pavement.

I pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders.

Then I walked out.

I needed answers.

And I knew exactly where to start.

I called Sienna.

She answered quickly.

"Dad?"

"What was the name of the company Isabella interviewed with?"

There was a pause.

"Why?"

"Sienna."

My voice was enough.

"Meridian Developments."

She started saying something else.

I ended the call.

I grabbed my keys.

I knew Meridian Developments.

I'd known the company for years.

And I'd never liked its owner.

He was arrogant.

Unprofessional.

The kind of man who thought money made him untouchable.

But I had never had a reason to go after him.

Not until now.

I drove straight to the company.

The moment I entered the building, people looked up.

I didn't slow down.

"Sir, you need an appointment..."

I ignored the receptionist.

I knew exactly where I was going.

The CEO's office.

I reached the door.

Didn't knock.

I opened it and walked inside.

The man behind the desk looked up in surprise.

"Theodore Kingsley?"

I didn't answer.

I crossed the room and grabbed him by the collar.

He barely had time to stand before I drove my fist into his face.

He stumbled backward.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

I grabbed his collar again.

"You will never touch a woman again."

His eyes widened.

"And you will never look at Isabella Sinclair again."

He stared at me.

"Who?"

I shoved him back against the desk.

"You know exactly who."

He tried to push me away.

I stepped back only long enough to let him regain his balance.

Then I punched him.

"You should be grateful she got away from you."

He slid down against the desk, breathing hard, one eye already swelling shut, and made no move to get back up.

I straightened my cuffs.

Checked my knuckles, split slightly across two of them, with the same mild attention I might have given a paper cut.

"You should be grateful she got away from you."

He didn't answer. He wasn't in a position to.

"You're done."

I turned and walked out without looking back, leaving him exactly where he'd fallen. In the outer office, a few people had gathered near the door, drawn by the noise. I straightened my jacket, met no one's eyes, and walked past them like a man leaving a meeting that had run slightly long.

My anger hadn't disappeared.

Not even close.

As I reached the lobby, something caught my attention.

A familiar bag.

Isabella's.

I stopped.

Someone must have found it after she ran.

I picked it up.

I wasn't leaving anything of hers behind.

Then I walked out.

I made some calls before I even reached my car.

The first was to one of my suppliers.

"Stop all business with Meridian Developments."

There was a brief silence.

"Mr. Kingsley, immediately?"

"Immediately."

"Understood."

The second call was to an investor.

Same instruction.

Same answer.

The third call was to another business partner.

By then, the message was clear.

Nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of Theodore Kingsley.

I ended the final call and sat behind the wheel.

Meridian had built its reputation on connections.

Now I was going to show them what it meant to lose them.

I wasn't doing this because I wanted revenge.

I was doing it because someone had hurt a woman who trusted me enough to call when she was afraid.

And I would not let that go.

I reached for my phone again.

There was one more call I needed to make.

My private investigator answered almost immediately.

"Sir."

"I need everything you can find on the CEO of Meridian Developments."

A pause.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"I'll get started."

"I want the clean version and the dirty version."

"I understand."

I ended the call.

I knew him well.

If there was something buried, he would find it.

And I had a feeling there was plenty.

Before going home, I stopped at a bakery.

I stood in front of the display case for a moment.

Then I remembered.

Cheesecake.

Isabella's favorite.

I bought a whole box.

Different flavors.

Strawberry.

Blueberry.

Chocolate.

Caramel.

Even one with lemon, because I remembered her once saying she wanted to try it.

I had no idea which one she'd want.

So I bought them all.

When I finally returned home, the house was quiet.

I left the box downstairs on the kitchen counter.

She was still asleep.

I didn't want to disturb her.

I went downstairs instead.

I wasn't much of a cook.

Never had been.

But I knew how to make one thing she liked.

Osmanthus milk.

I prepared it slowly, leaving it on the counter for when she woke.

Then I noticed the small first-aid kit in the cabinet.

I took it out and placed it beside the kitchen counter.

I didn't know how badly her wrist had been bruised.

But I knew it needed to be taken care of.

Eventually, I heard footsteps.

I looked up.

Isabella stood at the bottom of the stairs.

Her hair was slightly messy.

Her eyes were still tired.

She didn't say anything.

Neither did I.

I walked toward her.

"Come here."

She hesitated before coming closer.

I gently took her hands.

That's when I saw the bruising properly.

Dark marks had already begun to form around her wrist.

My jaw tightened.

I forced myself to stay calm.

I opened the ointment and carefully applied a small amount over the bruised area.

She winced slightly.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

I looked at her.

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head.

"It's okay."

I continued gently, making sure not to press too hard.

When I was finished, I closed the ointment and put it aside.

Then I picked up the glass of osmanthus milk.

"Here."

She took it.

"Drink."

She nodded.

She took a sip.

Then another.

I watched her quietly.

She looked exhausted.

But at least she was here.

Safe.

With me.

My eyes moved toward the box on the kitchen counter.

"There's something else."

She followed my gaze.

I opened the box.

Her expression changed.

"Cheesecake?"

I nodded.

"I didn't know which one you'd want."

Her eyes moved over the different slices.

Strawberry.

Blueberry.

Chocolate.

Caramel.

Lemon.

"Pick one."

She looked at me.

"One?"

"For now."

She considered them for a moment before pointing.

"Strawberry."

I took the slice she had chosen and placed it on a small plate.

Then I sat beside her.

She looked at the cheesecake.

Then at me.

"You bought all of these?"

"I didn't know which one you wanted."

A tiny smile appeared on her face.

The first one I'd seen since I found her.

I picked up the fork.

She looked at me curiously.

"What?"

"Open."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"Theo..."

"You're tired."

"I can eat by myself."

"I know."

I cut a small piece of cheesecake and held the fork out to her.

"Just let me."

She hesitated.

Then she opened her mouth.

I fed her the bite.

She chewed slowly.

"Good?"

She nodded.

"Very."

I smiled faintly.

"Good."

I cut another small piece and held it out.

This time, she didn't hesitate.

She took it from the fork.

I continued feeding her slowly, one bite at a time, while she drank her osmanthus milk between bites.

Neither of us spoke much.

For the first time since I had found her, the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease.

I watched her finish the last bite.

Then I set the fork down.

She held the glass between both hands.

I looked at her bruised wrist again.

My anger was still there.

Quiet.

Deep.

Waiting.

But I wasn't going to let her see it.

Not tonight.

Tonight, she needed to feel safe.

I didn't ask any more questions.

Not yet.

For now, she was home.

She was safe.

And that was enough.