Chapter Four

  I storm into Ethan’s office, my heels clicking against the marble floor.

  

  The room is sleek, modern, just like him. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch behind a black glass desk, offering a perfect view of the city skyline.

  

  A world he owns. A world I’m trapped in.

  

  But right now, I don’t care about the wealth or power surrounding him.

  

  I care about the lie.

  

  The one he’s keeping from me.

  

  “What the hell are you planning?”

  

  Ethan glances up, completely unfazed. His charcoal suit is crisp, his tie slightly loosened like he’s already settled in for the night.

  

  Like he expected me.

  

  His expression doesn’t shift. No surprise, no guilt, just a cool, collected mask.

  

  He leans back, fingers steepled together. Calm. Confident. Dangerous.

  

  “You were eavesdropping?” His voice is smooth, like I’m the one crossing a line.

  

  I slam my hands on the glass desk, hard enough to make the papers tremble. Hard enough to show I’m not afraid.

  

  “Don’t turn this on me.”

  

  His lips twitch in a ghost of amusement. “You’re angry.”

  

  “No, Ethan, I’m furious.” My voice shakes, but not from fear. “What are you hiding?”

  

  Ethan sighs, like I’m a child throwing a tantrum.

  

  Then he stands.

  

  Slow. Deliberate.

  

  I don’t move, but my pulse jumps as he rounds the desk.

  

  One step.

  

  Two.

  

  Then he stops, inches away, his presence swallowing the air between us.

  

  I can feel the heat radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne, the rich, dark, intoxicating smell.

  

  But his eyes, his eyes are the real danger.

  

  They study me like a puzzle already solved.

  

  Like he’s won.

  

  “Careful, Isabella.” His voice dips lower. Darker. “You might not like the answer.”

  

  I refuse to back down.

  

  My hands curl into fists. “Try me.”

  

  A beat of silence.

  

  Then he smiles. But it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  

  “You’re overthinking, sweetheart.” His fingers ghost over my wrist feeling light, teasing. Threatening. “The contract is clear. We play our roles. You get paid. End of story.”

  

  Liar.

  

  My heart slams against my ribs. “And when does this story end, Ethan?”

  

  His grip tightens for a fraction of a second.

  

  Then his lips part, and his next words send a shiver down my spine.

  

  “When I say so.”

  

  My breath catches.

  

  Because for the first time, I see it—a crack in his perfect mask.

  

  A flicker of something cold. Ruthless.

  

  Fear.

  

  It’s gone in an instant.

  

  But I saw it.

  

  And now I can’t unsee it.

  

  Before I can press him, the office door swings open.

  

  A blonde woman in a sharp pencil skirt rushes inside, clutching a tablet to her chest.

  

  His assistant.

  

  She hesitates when she sees me, but quickly schools her face into polite professionalism.

  

  “Sir, you need to see this.”

  

  Ethan doesn’t break eye contact.

  

  “Not now.”

  

  She shifts uncomfortably. “It’s urgent.”

  

  His jaw ticks.

  

  I step back, my pulse still racing.

  

  I don’t know what’s worse, his secrets or the fact that I know I’ll never get the truth from him.

  

  He exhales sharply, then nods toward the door.

  

  “Out.”

  

  I don’t move.

  

  I should. I should turn and leave and pretend I don’t feel the ice creeping down my spine.

  

  But I don’t.

  

  Because something tells me…

  

  This is just the beginning.

  

  The Warning

  

  I leave Ethan’s office, my mind spinning.

  

  I need air.

  

  Space.

  

  But most of all, I need to figure out what the hell I just walked into.

  

  The private elevator takes me to the underground garage. My car waits, sleek and untouched, but my hands shake as I grip the steering wheel.

  

  I can’t stop thinking about it.

  

  The way he looked at me.

  

  The way his mask slipped.

  

  I reach into my bag for my phone.

  

  A new message flashes across the screen.

  

  UNKNOWN NUMBER: Get out while you still can.

  

  My stomach knots.

  

  Same message as before.

  

  I swallow hard, forcing myself to breathe.

  

  This isn’t a coincidence.

  

  Someone is watching me.

  

  Someone wants me to know I’m in danger.

  

  I shut off my phone and pull out of the garage, heading straight to my apartment.

  

  I just need distance.

  

  I just need to think.

  

  Home.

  

  I step into my apartment, locking the door behind me.

  

  Everything is quiet.

  

  Too quiet.

  

  I toss my bag on the counter, rubbing my temples.

  

  Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I—

  

  Creak.

  

  I freeze.

  

  The air shifts.

  

  My pulse hammers in my ears.

  

  Slowly, I turn my head.

  

  My front door is unlocked.

  

  No.

  

  No.

  

  I know I locked it.

  

  Didn’t I?

  

  A cold shiver runs down my spine.

  

  I take a step forward, my fingers trembling as I reach for the light switch.

  

  Then I see it.

  

  A piece of paper sits on my kitchen counter, neatly placed.

  

  Not tossed.

  

  Not dropped.

  

  Placed.

  

  I swallow hard and pick it up.

  

  The handwriting is sharp. Precise.

  

  One sentence.

  

  Your husband-to-be isn’t who he says he is.

  

  My hands turn ice cold.

  

  The paper flutters to the ground as I step back.

  

  My breath is loud. Too loud.

  

  I scan the apartment.

  

  The living room. The hallway. The shadows stretching across the floor.

  

  Someone was here.

  

  Watching.

  

  Waiting.

  

  And they left me a warning.

  

  A warning I can’t ignore.

  

  I grab my phone, my fingers shaking as I dial the one number I swore I never would.

  

  Ethan.

  

  It rings once.

  

  Twice.

  

  Then—

  

  “Isabella.”

  

  His voice is calm. Too calm.

  

  I clutch the phone tighter. “Someone broke into my apartment.”

  

  A beat of silence.

  

  Then low. Dangerous.

  

  “Don’t move.”

  

  My breath hitches.The line goes dead.

  

  And suddenly, I know whatever game I’ve been playing… I just lost.