Chapter 21 – "The Space Between Us"
The soft click of the door closing behind her echoed louder than it should have.
Isabella pressed her back against it, squeezing her eyes shut. Her pulse was still erratic, her breath uneven. She hadn't meant to lean in. Hadn't meant to let it go that far.
But the moment had taken on a life of its own. And she'd felt it—whatever it was—right before Alexander's phone had rung and snapped them back to reality.
She hadn't even stayed to hear who was calling. She just left, needing space. Distance. Air.
And now, here she was—outside his office, her heart racing like she'd run a marathon instead of nearly kissed her boss.
She made her way out of the building and into the night, ignoring the way her thoughts kept drifting back to his eyes, the way his hand had lingered at her waist, how close their lips had gotten. Every part of it burned her.
Because it shouldn't have happened.
And worse—she didn't regret it.
Alexander stared at the empty doorway long after Isabella had gone.
His hands were clenched at his sides, a dozen thoughts racing through his head. He knew he had crossed a line.
Worse, he knew he would do it again in a heartbeat.
The sound of his phone vibrating again snapped him out of it. He glanced at the screen and frowned.
Clarissa.
For the third time this week.
He let it ring out and tossed the phone onto his desk, jaw tightening. She had a talent for calling at the worst possible times, and right now… his mind was far from his past.
All he could think about was the way Isabella had looked at him—conflicted, breathless, and just a little afraid.
Of him. Or maybe of what she was starting to feel.
And that scared him more than he cared to admit.
Isabella barely heard a word during the next morning's meeting. Charts and projections flashed across the screen, but none of it registered.
She could feel Alexander's presence beside her—calm, composed, unreadable as ever.
But when their eyes met briefly, something in his gaze flickered. An apology? A warning? She couldn't tell.
The rest of the team filed out when the meeting ended, but Isabella stayed seated, flipping through the pages of the report without reading a single word.
Alexander didn't move either.
Finally, she broke the silence. "We should talk."
He nodded slowly. "I agree."
But before either of them could speak again, the door opened.
And in walked the last person she expected to see.
"Alexander," the woman said, smiling coolly as she stepped inside like she belonged there. "We need to talk."
Alexander stood slowly. His face changed—not with surprise, but resignation.
"Clarissa," he said quietly.
Isabella froze.
Clarissa.
The name from the other night.
The woman who had called him… the one he hadn't mentioned since.
Tall, stunning, and poised, the woman looked at Isabella for the first time with a polite, dismissive smile. "You must be the assistant."
Isabella didn't respond. Couldn't respond.
Clarissa turned back to Alexander. "It's urgent. And personal."
Alexander glanced at Isabella.
Something in his eyes warned her.
And for the first time in a long time, Isabella felt small.
Like she didn't belong.
"I'll see myself out," she said quickly, standing up.
Alexander didn't stop her.
She walked out of the room, the sound of the door closing behind her ringing louder than it should have.
That night, Isabella sat alone in her apartment, a glass of untouched wine in her hand.
She'd made a mistake letting her guard down. A stupid, reckless mistake.
She had let herself feel something for a man she barely knew.
And now?
She was remembering exactly why that was a bad idea.
Across the city, Alexander stood by the window of his penthouse, Clarissa's words still ringing in his ears.
"I need to talk to you, Alex. It's about us."
He hadn't said anything then.
He couldn't.
Because the truth was, he didn't know how he felt about anything anymore.
He looked down at the phone in his hand, thumb hovering over Isabella's contact.
He wanted to call her.
He needed to.
But before he could hit "Call," a message came through.
Unknown Number: You really think you know her, Alexander? Ask her about what happened in Florence.
Alexander's blood ran cold.
Florence?
He stared at the message, brows furrowed.
Then another text came in.
Unknown Number: She's not who you think she is.