8: Hello, Isabelle

Theodore had arrived home in a foul mood. His phone lay discarded on the desk, the screen flickering with missed calls and unread messages.

He was in no mood to converse with anyone. Nicholas had spoken to him in a way that nobody in their right minds would ever do.

But the hours ticked by, his anger lessened and gave way to an emotion he did not understand.

Loss perhaps? He was not certain if what he felt for Hannah was love or an obsession but he felt like a child who wept over a toy that he had discarded and could not find later.

He sank into his leather armchair, the plush cushions offering little comfort.

The photographs on the wall seemed to judge him, the stern eyes of his parents silently condemning his failure.

How could have let such a thing happen under his nose?

How could he have missed the signs?

He had lied to Nicholas, Hannah had never run away before.

What could have given her the audacity to run away especially now that he was making moves to run for mayor in the next election.

He had built an empire, a dynasty, yet he couldn't even control his own wife.

The whispers had already begun, he knew. But reporting Hannah as missing would change the narrative.

The door to his office sent to his ears the sound of a knock just before it was gently pushed open.

One of his staff, Isabelle, a beautiful woman in her tight fitting uniform, her long, dark hair resting on her shoulders.

She was standing by the door, a glass of wine swirling in her hand, her gaze fixed on the powerful man that sat before her.

"Mr. Hills," she said, her voice a soft melody, "I... I was worried about you. I brought you some wine to help clear your head."

He stared at her, his initial anger giving way to a strange sense of calm.

Isabelle was a creature of exquisite beauty, her features delicate yet striking.

He wondered how he had never noticed her before now.

"You shouldn't have bothered," he said, his voice gruff. He ran his eyes down her frame and motioned her to come closer, "Come here. Let me take a look at you"

She smiled and walked over, gently dropping the glass on the table.

"I thought that you might need a drink," she replied, her eyes never leaving the ground while she toyed shyly with her fingers. "Besides," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper,

"I heard about... about Mrs. Hills. I'm really sorry that she isn't around right now"

He stiffened, the memory of his earlier humiliation flooding back.

"It's none of your concern," he growled.

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry that I overstepped."

He looked at her, surprised. He hadn't expected sympathy from his staff, he was certain that they all hated him and yet, here was one of them, a young woman more interested in making him feel better.

"It's... not easy," he admitted, his voice softening.

Isabelle moved closer, her gaze lingering on his face.

"If there's anything I can do..." she held eye contact with him briefly, " If there's anything at all..."

He looked into her eyes, a strange warmth spreading through him.

He gestured towards his lap.

"Join me," he said, his voice rough with suppressed emotions and seduction. "Bring that wine along. A drink might help."

Isabelle smiled, her eyes sparkling.

"Are you sure, Sir?" She asked.

"Are you?" He grinned.

"I'd like that, Mr. Hills."

As she sat down on his lap, he couldn't help but notice the way her body felt soft against his own. A shiver ran down his spine, a sensation he hadn't experienced in years.

Hannah, with her icy demeanor and constant disdain, had never inspired such a primal response.

He drank a generous measure of the wine, the amber liquid swirling in the crystal glass.

The wine, a potent elixir of Spanish grapes, warmed Theodore from the inside out.

Isabelle took his free hand and wrapped it around her waist; an open invitation.

He glanced at her, her eyes downcast as he traced patterns around her back and thighs.

"You know," he began, his voice husky, "Hannah... she never understood the value of physical touch," he scoffed, "The fool did not even understand how to hold a good conversation."

Isabelle looked up, her eyes widening slightly.

"I... I'm sure she did or at least tried to," Isabelle replied cautiously.

She didn't hate Hannah but she needed Theodore's money.

She was only doing what she needed to do.

"No," he scoffed, "She was more interested in her silly emotions. Always wanted me to pay attention to how she felt. She never cared about my business, my concerns, my... my dreams."

Isabelle's gaze softened.

"I'm so sorry that you had to go through all that, Mr Hills"

He snorted.

"After everything that I did for her too."

"You didn't deserve that"

"She was... calculating," he admitted, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. "Always playing a game, manipulating, scheming."

Isabelle nodded slowly, her eyes filled with a fake sympathy.

"It sounds... difficult."

He leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning softly.

"It was," he confessed, the admission surprising even himself. "A suffocating marriage. But she has no right to leave! Not after all that I've invested in her"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hills." She placed a hand on his face, "How can I make it better?"

He found himself wanting to linger in the warmth of her touch, to savor the unexpected intimacy.

Isabelle on the other hand was surprised that the man was this easy.

"Don't be," he said, his voice rough."You know," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur, "I haven't felt this... this relaxed in years."

Isabelle smiled, a slow, seductive smile that sent a shiver down his spine.

"I'm glad I could help," she replied, her voice a silken caress.

He watched her, mesmerized by the way the light caught the golden strands in her hair.

He found himself wanting to know more about her, to peel back the layers of her persona and her clothes.

There was something about Isabelle and he irresistibly drawn.

The tension between them grew palpable, the air charged with a silent, unspoken desire.

His gaze lingered on her lips, the curve of her neck, the way her breasts gently pushed against the silk of her dress.

He wanted to run his tongue from her belly and below. He wanted to taste every piece of her, to lose himself in the heat of her embrace.

But something held him back.

It was Isabelle herself.

She slowly unwrapped his arm that had rested comfortably around her waist, got off his lap and took a few steps back, savoring his surprise.

"I have a few things to do," she said, "I'll see you around, Mr Hills".

Isabelle left the office before he had the chance to stop her.

She knew what she was doing.

Isabelle needed him to crave her if her plan was going to work.

Now, a silent question hung in the air. How long could he resist her?