Chapter 5 — The Golden Cage and the Predator’s Temptation

Evander leaned casually against the treadmill's handrail, steadily closing the distance between them until Isolde could catch the strong scent of his masculine cologne.

"I'm getting more curious," Evander murmured, his gaze blatantly dropping to Isolde's chest as it rose and fell rapidly from exhaustion.

Isolde immediately became flustered, feeling intimidated by the way he looked at her as if stripping her bare with his eyes. Trying to ignore him, she pressed the button to increase the treadmill's speed, determined to prove that she could stay focused. However, the sudden change in pace combined with her weakened condition caused her footing to falter.

"Oh my—"

Before her plump body could be thrown off the machine, Evander quickly lunged forward and caught her. Both of his large hands settled firmly around Isolde's full waist, supporting her weight and squeezing her with a possessive, sensual pressure. Their equally warm, sweat-dampened skin created an instant electric spark.

"Careful, Chubby," Evander whispered against Isolde's temple, savoring the softness of her curvy body in his arms.

The moment she regained her balance, Isolde immediately slapped Evander's hands away and glared at him with a crimson face.

"Let go! I can manage on my own!"

Evander only laughed harder, completely unoffended.

"Relax. I'm not going to eat you... not yet."

"Your mouth is annoying, Mr. Evander."

"But you're still entertaining these annoying eyes, aren't you?" Evander winked deliberately.

Isolde snorted irritably and forced her legs to keep running, though Evander's presence nearby made all of her movements stiff and awkward.

The situation became even more complicated and suffocating when the glass door of the gym opened once again. Azriel entered without permission, completely ignoring the intimate atmosphere. The pale-faced man walked straight to the sofa in the corner and opened his large sketchbook.

Scratch... scratch...

The rhythmic sound of pencil against paper soon filled the room.

Isolde's eyes widened as she panted heavily on the treadmill, her chest rising and falling dramatically.

"Y-You're seriously going to draw in here?!"

"Yes," Azriel answered shortly, without the slightest hint of guilt. His eyes moved between Isolde's full thighs wrapped in tight leggings before transferring the image onto paper.

"Why does it have to be here?!"

"There's something visually interesting."

"What's interesting about it?!"

Azriel slowly lifted his head and stared directly into Isolde's eyes, his dark gaze heavy with obsession.

"The way your full body moves and sways rhythmically on that machine. It's... artistically stimulating."

Isolde's face instantly turned scarlet from a mixture of exhaustion, embarrassment, and irritation at Azriel's blunt honesty.

Watching the exchange, Evander chuckled with satisfaction, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against a pillar.

"I'm starting to understand why you're so obsessed with her, Azriel."

"I'm not obsessed," Azriel replied calmly, his fingers moving across the sketchbook once again. "This is simply a pure observation of a masterpiece."

"Both of you are sick!" Isolde exclaimed, feeling increasingly cornered between these two predators.

Sweat now streamed down Isolde's pale neck, trailing into the cleavage of her chest. The muscles in her legs screamed in protest, but her wounded pride made her extraordinarily stubborn. She continued forcing herself to run faster under the intimidatingly sensual gazes of the two men.

"Interesting," Evander whispered as he stepped closer to the treadmill once again, staring at Isolde's neck glistening with sweat. "The look on your face when you're suffering and pleading is far more enticing than it was last night."

Those words triggered both Isolde's anger and the trauma of Gavin's insults.

She pressed the speed button again.

Faster.

I have to lose weight. I have to change into an ideal woman so the world will stop mocking me, she cried inwardly.

However, her vision began to blur, and her chest felt as though it had been crushed beneath a massive stone as her oxygen supply dwindled.

Bang!

Someone slammed the treadmill's emergency stop button from the front.

The treadmill came to an abrupt halt, causing Isolde to stumble forward. Fortunately, a strong hand with a grip as hard as steel seized her arm and pulled her curvy body directly against a hard, broad chest.

"That's enough."

The icy baritone voice instantly froze the atmosphere of the room.

Lucien Blackthorne stood there with a hardened jaw and sharp gray eyes.

Lucien had only just arrived, and he had immediately been provoked by the sight of his two younger brothers stripping Isolde bare with their lustful gazes while she was on the verge of collapsing.

Isolde gasped for breath as she tried to pull her arm free from Lucien's grip.

"Let go... I'm not finished!"

"You're almost dying from lack of air, Fool."

"I'm fine!"

"You can barely speak," Lucien cut in sharply, his eyes fixed on Isolde's chest as it rose and fell heavily against his expensive shirt because of her ragged breathing. That accidental physical contact only made Lucien's jaw tighten further as he suppressed the unfamiliar turmoil inside him.

Evander let out a low whistle from behind, deliberately provoking his older brother.

"Lucien, don't be so harsh on our new toy. You're scaring her."

Lucien ignored Evander, but his grip on Isolde's arm became even more possessive.

"You're torturing yourself."

Isolde clenched her teeth, enduring the burning pain in her chest caused by exhaustion.

"I have to push myself, Mr. Lucien!"

"For what?"

Isolde let out a small laugh, a bitter laugh laden with profound despair.

"So my body can become ideal! So I can be beautiful and stop being disgusting!"

The gym suddenly fell completely silent.

Evander stopped provoking.

Even Azriel's pencil slowly came to a halt in midair.

Lucien stepped one pace closer and lowered his head until his face was level with Isolde's flushed cheek.

"So you're destroying your... precious body just to please those fools out there who insult you?"

"I just don't want to be humiliated anymore!"

Isolde's voice finally broke.

The tears she had been holding back spilled down her chubby cheeks.

"I'm tired of being laughed at! I'm sick of being the nation's joke, sick of hearing my ex-fiancé and everyone else call me a pig!"

Her sobs erupted uncontrollably.

Without caring about the gazes of the three Blackthorne men, who were staring at her with different emotions swirling inside them, Isolde yanked her hand free from Lucien's grasp, turned around, and ran out of the gym, carrying with her an overwhelming sense of shame.