Chapter sixteen

The morning came too fast.

 

Bella barely slept. When her alarm went off, she was already awake, staring at the ceiling, her chest tight with a feeling she couldn’t name. Not fear exactly. Something sharper. Awareness.

 

She got dressed quietly, choosing the simplest outfit she owned. Nothing attention-grabbing. Nothing soft. She wanted armor, not beauty.

 

By the time she stepped outside, a black car was already waiting.

 

The driver opened the door without a word.

 

Bella paused for half a second before getting in.

 

Inside, Darian was already seated.

 

He looked up briefly. “Morning.”

 

“Good morning, sir,” she replied, keeping her voice steady.

 

The car moved almost immediately.

 

Silence settled between them. Not awkward silence. Heavy silence. The kind that pressed against the ears.

 

Bella kept her gaze fixed on the window. Buildings passed by in a blur. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap, fingers clenched together.

 

Darian noticed.

 

He noticed everything.

 

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes flicked down once. Twice. Her hands hadn’t moved.

 

At the airport, everything happened quickly. Private terminal. No lines. No waiting. Staff greeted Darian with quiet respect. “Good morning, sir.” “This way, sir.”

 

Bella followed a step behind, invisible and very aware of it.

 

They boarded a small private jet.

 

Bella had never been on one before. The interior was sleek, expensive, and too quiet. The kind of quiet that made her feel exposed.

 

She sat where the assistant directed her, smoothing her skirt nervously.

 

Darian took the seat opposite her.

 

The door closed.

 

The engines started.

 

Bella’s heart began to race.

 

She told herself to breathe. Just breathe.

 

The plane lifted off, and her stomach dipped sharply. She pressed her lips together and stared straight ahead.

 

Darian watched her reaction from the corner of his eye.

 

“You don’t fly often,” he said.

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

“No, sir,” she replied.

 

Another silence.

 

A flight attendant approached with a polite smile. “Would you like something to drink?”

 

Darian didn’t hesitate. “Whiskey.”

 

Bella stiffened.

 

The attendant turned to her. “And you, miss?”

 

Bella’s throat tightened. “Water, please.”

 

The attendant nodded and walked away.

 

Darian’s gaze lingered on her longer this time.

 

He said nothing.

 

But something shifted.

 

The flight smoothed out, but Bella didn’t relax. Her shoulders stayed tense, her breathing shallow. She kept replaying his voice from the night before. Pack lightly. We leave early.

 

No room for discussion. No room for choice.

 

“You look like you’re bracing for impact,” Darian said suddenly.

 

Bella blinked and looked at him. “I’m fine, sir.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “You say that very often.”

 

She didn’t respond.

 

The attendant returned with the drinks. Darian took his glass, swirling the amber liquid lazily.

 

Bella accepted the water with both hands. She took a small sip, then another, like she needed to remind herself it was safe.

 

Darian noticed that too.

 

“You don’t drink,” he said.

 

Bella’s fingers tightened around the glass. “Not much.”

 

“Yet you were at a hotel bar,” he replied calmly.

 

Her chest tightened.

 

“That doesn’t mean I was drinking,” she said carefully.

 

He studied her face. “Most people who end up in situations like that were.”

 

Bella swallowed. “Most people aren’t everyone.”

 

Their eyes locked.

 

The air between them felt charged, like a wire pulled too tight.

 

Darian leaned back slightly. “You’re defensive.”

 

“I’m careful,” she corrected.

 

A pause.

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

Bella hesitated. She could lie. It would be easier.

 

But something about the way he was watching her made lying feel pointless.

 

“I don’t like alcohol,” she said finally.

 

“Because?” he pressed.

 

Her grip on the glass trembled, just slightly. She set it down before he could notice more.

 

“Because it makes people unpredictable,” she said.

 

Darian’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened.

 

“You mean dangerous.”

 

“Yes,” Bella said quietly.

 

Another silence fell, heavier than before.

 

Darian looked away first.

 

The plane landed a short while later. Bella released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

 

At the hotel, it was more of the same. Quiet luxury. Staff who moved quickly and spoke softly. Darian handled everything without looking at her, without asking.

 

Two rooms. Adjacent.

 

“Rest for an hour,” he said. “We have a meeting this afternoon.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

She turned to leave.

 

“Bella.”

 

She stopped.

 

He rarely said her name.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Be ready on time.”

 

“I will.”

 

She entered her room and locked the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. Her hands were shaking.

 

She hated that he could see through her so easily.

 

She hated that part of her cared.

 

The meeting went smoothly. Bella took notes, organized files, answered questions when asked. She did her job well. Perfectly.

 

People looked at her differently now. With respect. With curiosity.

 

Darian watched it all.

 

He noticed how she spoke when she was confident. How her voice didn’t shake when work was involved. How her anxiety only surfaced when things became personal.

 

That night, they had dinner with clients.

 

A long table. Soft lighting. Bottles of wine placed within reach.

 

Bella’s heart sank the moment she saw them.

 

A waiter poured drinks.

 

Darian accepted another whiskey.

 

The waiter turned to Bella.

 

“No, thank you,” she said quickly.

 

The waiter hesitated, then nodded and moved on.

 

One of the clients laughed. “You don’t drink?”

 

Bella forced a polite smile. “No.”

 

Darian spoke before she could say more. “She doesn’t need to.”

 

The client raised his hands. “Fair enough.”

 

Bella shot Darian a brief look. He didn’t meet her eyes.

 

Throughout the dinner, she stayed alert. Too alert. Her shoulders were tight, her hands clasped in her lap.

 

At one point, a client reached across the table and brushed her arm accidentally.

 

Bella flinched.

 

It was subtle. Almost unnoticeable.

 

Almost.

 

Darian noticed.

 

He set his glass down slowly.

 

Later, when the meeting ended and they stood to leave, he spoke quietly to her.

 

“You can go back to the hotel,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

 

She looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

 

Back in her room, Bella sat on the edge of the bed, her heart still racing.

 

She replayed the evening in her mind. The alcohol. The touches. The memories she tried so hard not to think about.

 

She didn’t hear the knock at first.

 

Then again.

 

She froze.

 

Another knock. Firm.

 

Her heart pounded as she stood and opened the door a crack.

 

Darian stood outside.

 

“Sir?”

 

“Walk with me,” he said.

 

She hesitated. Then stepped out, closing the door behind her.

 

They walked down the hallway in silence.

 

“You don’t drink,” he said again.

 

“No.”

 

“You don’t like being touched unexpectedly.”

 

“No.”

 

“You’re always alert when alcohol is involved.”

 

She stopped walking.

 

He stopped too.

 

“What are you trying to say?” she asked quietly.

 

Darian turned to face her fully.

 

“I’m saying,” he replied slowly, “that nothing about your behavior aligns with what I was told about you.”

 

Her breath caught.

 

“And that bothers me.”

 

The silence stretched between them.

 

Bella’s pulse roared in her ears.

 

Darian looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

 

And for the first time, doubt cracked through his certainty.

 

“Get some rest,” he said finally. “Tomorrow will be long.”

 

He turned and walked away.

 

Bella stood there, frozen.

 

Because she realized something too.

 

This trip wasn’t just business.

 

It was the beginning of something neither of them could control anymore.