LOGINShare
Chapter 4
Last Updated:
2025-08-17 06:28:55The invitation arrived that morning, thick with embossed gold lettering, exuding the kind of opulence that made Bella feel simultaneously thrilled and out of place. Alexander Moreau tossed it onto her desk without ceremony, his tailored coat brushing the edge as if the extravagance of Parisian high society were no more consequential than a routine memo.
“You’ll accompany me,” he said, voice clipped, leaving no room for negotiation.
Bella blinked down at the card, tracing the gilded letters with her eyes. A gala at the Hôtel Le Meurice, an evening of champagne, chandeliers, and whispered elegance she had only glimpsed in magazines. She wanted to protest, to remind him she was his assistant, not a social companion, but the words lodged stubbornly in her throat. Alexander’s gaze held hers just long enough for her to know refusal was impossible.
By evening, Bella stood before the mirror in her modest Paris apartment, smoothing the folds of a borrowed navy gown. The city below shimmered, every lamppost and street corner gleaming as if conspiring with the gala’s allure. She inhaled slowly, willing herself calm. She had attended countless meetings, client dinners, and presentations at his side, but tonight felt different, something indefinable hovered in the air between them.
When Alexander entered, immaculate in black tuxedo and commanding presence, her breath caught. He filled the room without moving, the sharpness of his jaw softened by the elegance of his attire. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he saw her differently tonight, the way his eyes lingered, just a fraction longer than necessary, before the curt nod of acknowledgment.
“You’ll do,” he said softly. His words should have grounded her in her role, but instead, they sent an unfamiliar flutter through her chest.
The gala unfolded like a symphony of crystal and velvet. Bella stayed a careful half-step behind Alexander, rehearsing her role: attentive, unobtrusive, quiet. Yet whispers swirled around them like invisible currents.
“There he is, the Ice King.”
“And with an assistant? Fascinating.”Heat crept into her cheeks, uncertainty gnawing at her composure. Alexander moved through the crowd like a general surveying a battlefield. Confident, untouchable but not immune to tension.
“She’s here,” Alexander murmured, eyes narrowing slightly.
Bella followed his gaze. A woman approached, striking and poised, with the kind of elegance that could belong only on magazine covers. Scarlet silk traced her form, and her smile carried just enough charm to unsettle.
“Isabelle,” Alexander said flatly, his voice devoid of warmth.
Bella froze. The name alone exuded danger and history. She didn’t need explanation—Isabelle was from his past.
“Still brooding, I see,” Isabelle murmured, soft and measured, meant to disarm. “Three years, isn’t it?”
Alexander’s jaw tightened, eyes cold shards. “Three.”
The tension rippled, drawing Bella into invisible shadows. Isabelle’s gaze flicked toward her briefly, assessing, calculating.
“And you’ve found yourself a new accessory,” she said smoothly. “Charming. Simple, but pretty.”
Bella flushed, biting her cheek. Alexander’s hand twitched at his side, yet his face remained carefully unreadable.
“She’s my assistant,” he said sharply, the word meant to define boundaries. Instead, it felt like a blade tracing her chest. Bella’s gaze dropped, pretending to admire the gilded doorway, but every nerve was alert.
Isabelle laughed lightly. “Of course. You never did like being alone, did you, darling?”
Alexander’s response was clipped, final. “Enjoy your evening, Isabelle.”
He guided Bella away before she could breathe fully, his hand brushing the small of her back—not enough to draw attention, but enough to anchor her. Her heart raced, reckless in its rhythm.
The gala blurred as they moved through it. Bella smiled when required, noted conversations and agreements with quiet efficiency, but her thoughts circled Isabelle: her elegance, the hint of venom in her smile, and the momentary crack in Alexander’s otherwise impenetrable armor.
In the sleek black car outside, silence filled the space between them. Paris glittered beyond the glass, yet no words came.
“She seemed… important,” Bella ventured, voice tentative.
Alexander’s jaw tightened. “She was nothing.”
But his gaze on the passing streets betrayed the lie.
“Nothing doesn’t leave shadows that deep,” Bella said softly, testing the ground.
He finally turned to her, expression rawer than she had seen, voice ragged. “She betrayed me deeply. In ways you cannot imagine. And I do not make the same mistake twice.”
Her chest constricted at the bitterness behind his words. She wanted to pry, to understand the darkness she glimpsed, but his eyes warned her off.
“For what it’s worth,” she said gently, “I don’t think everyone is like her.”
His eyes softened for a fleeting second, just enough to reveal the man beneath the ice. Then the mask slid back, flawless.
Later, in the quiet of his office, Alexander poured whiskey, golden light catching the glass. Bella organized notes across the room, pretending focus, yet every sense clung to him.
“You should go home,” he said without meeting her eyes.
“And leave you to brood alone?” she countered.
A twitch at the corner of his mouth, almost a smile. “You’re bolder than most.”
“Or foolish,” she whispered, though her heart hammered.
He studied her, eyes unreadable, then asked, low and deliberate: “Why are you still here, Bella?”
The question hovered, heavier than glittering chandeliers, heavier than Isabelle’s mocking elegance. She opened her mouth, closed it again. For the job? To prove herself? Or because, despite every warning, she couldn’t turn away from the Ice King?
Finally, she said simply, “Because you haven’t dismissed me yet.”
A flicker, amusement, admiration, perhaps something softer, passed his gaze. He sipped whiskey, eyes never leaving hers.
For the first time, Bella glimpsed the man beneath the ice. And it terrified her as much as it drew her in.
That night, Paris outside her window seemed sharper, brighter, charged with possibility. Yet questions lingered, persistent and silent: Who was Alexander Moreau, really? And why, against all warnings, did she want to be the one to melt the shadows he carried?
Latest chapter
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 15
Bella had imagined that walking away would bring relief. Freedom. A clean breath after months of suffocating beneath the weight of secrecy, gossip, and the demands of a legacy she had never asked to inherit.But when she closed the door of her Montmartre apartment that evening, resignation letter already delivered, she felt only emptiness. Her hands pressed against the wood, heart pounding, a hollow ache echoing where Alexander’s presence once lived.Alexander Moreau. The Ice King. Her impossible love.She reminded herself that leaving was the right choice, that her absence would shield him from the board’s whispers and the relentless scrutiny of Paris. That she was protecting him. That she was being selfless.And yet, deep inside, a more selfish truth lingered: she had fled because she could not bear the weight of his silence when the board demanded her dismissal. He had not defended her, not in the way she had needed.Her phone buzzed sharply on the kitchen counter. For a heartbeat,
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 14
The letter arrived not with fanfare, not with fire, but in quiet inevitability.Bella found it slipped beneath her office door late in the afternoon, when the hum of Paris had softened into a gentle, amber dusk, and the corridors of Moreau & Partners had emptied. The envelope was embossed with the firm’s seal, formal and impersonal. She held it in her hands, trembling, knowing without opening it that the contents would confirm what she already feared.Inside, the paper lay flat, words typed in crisp, unforgiving sentences:We trust you understand the delicate position the firm currently navigates. For the sake of the company’s reputation, we strongly advise that your role and presence be reconsidered.No names. No signatures. Just the faceless authority of a board determined to preserve its empire. Bella did not need names to understand the message. She had seen the veiled glances, felt the cold weight of whispers, and witnessed Alexander’s eyes shutter whenever they were caught toget
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 13
The boardroom of Moreau & Partners was a cathedral of glass and steel, sunlight slicing through floor-to-ceiling windows and falling in harsh rectangles across the polished table. The skyline of Paris stretched endlessly beyond, indifferent to the storm brewing within. The board members sat in rigid precision, tailored suits, restrained movements, guarded faces, an assembly of power and expectation.At the head of the table sat Alexander Moreau. His posture was immaculate, his dark charcoal suit flawless, his hands folded with the meticulous discipline of a man who had built empires from steel and ambition. But beneath that perfect surface, a tempest roiled.He knew why they had summoned him.The scandal had spread like wildfire. The tabloids had discovered his affair with Bella Laurent, the assistant who had become his confidante, his muse, the woman who had quietly taken up residence in his heart.“Alexander,” began Monsieur Delacourt, chairman and guardian of the firm’s reputation,
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 12
The morning began like any other, Bella rushing through her small Parisian apartment, tugging on a blouse while balancing her coffee, her mind already running through Alexander’s schedule. For weeks, she had grown accustomed to the rhythm of their secret world: late-night dinners in hidden corners, stolen touches in the office, his hand brushing hers when no one watched. The Ice King had melted just for her.Yet that morning, the universe seemed determined to shatter.It started with a phone call.“Bella, don’t go online. Don’t. Just don’t,” Camille’s voice was frantic.Her heart skipped a beat. Against her better judgment, Bella reached for her phone and opened the news.There they were.Photographs, dozens of them, grainy but unmistakable. Alexander Moreau, the elusive genius of Parisian architecture walking beside her along the Seine. Another, holding the hotel door for her in Lyon, his gaze caught on her in a way that seemed too intimate to be merely courteous. And the worst, a si
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 11
The morning after the rainstorm confession, Paris seemed transformed. Or perhaps it was Bella who had changed. The city, usually chaotic and overwhelming, shimmered with possibility. Sunlight spilled across her small apartment as though carrying whispers of what had passed between them, soft rays brushing over her desk and scattered papers.Alexander Moreau had kissed her, not the measured, precise gestures he reserved for the public eye, but a kiss born of restraint breaking, of truth tearing through years of silence. She could still taste it if she closed her eyes, the faint warmth of his lips, the tremor in his hands when he cupped her face.Yet the moment had ended as abruptly as it began. He had pulled back, breathless, shaken, whispered, “I can’t stop anymore,” and vanished into the storm, leaving her standing with a heart racing faster than she had ever known.At the office the next day, Bella expected him to retreat into his usual fortress of formality, to pretend nothing had
The Ice King of Paris Chapter 10
The rain had begun before dusk, a relentless sheet that blurred Paris into streaks of silver. From the window of her small apartment, Bella watched the city, each drop painting the streets like tears. She had stayed at the office far later than usual, double-checking project files, each keystroke a distraction from the truth she had been avoiding.She was leaving.Not with a dramatic announcement, not immediately. But the resignation letter sat in her drafts folder, blinking at her with quiet insistence. One more sideways glance from a colleague, one more whispered rumor about her proximity to Alexander Moreau, and she would hit send. She could no longer endure the murmurings that implied her career was bought rather than earned.Her heart twisted at the thought of him, Alexander. The man who had moments of startling tenderness, yet remained a fortress behind his cold, precise exterior. He offered her fragments of himself: fleeting warmth, unspoken concern, rare gestures of care. But
You may also like
The Day I Kissed An Older Man
Cher the Cherished979.3K viewsMy Ex-Wife and Kids Came In Like A Wrecking Ball
Likable1.3M viewsOn Her Daddy’s Bed!
Xee write600.1K viewsWrong Ride, Right Lover
Rainweather661.3K viewsThe sweet revenge of a heartless CEO - Clifford Empire
Roseanautora304 viewsHe thought he was the groom
Maxonmax 189 viewsENTWINED BETWEEN LUXURY
Keith Vine 231 viewsMy Sister hurtful betrayal
Julietpiusj1.0K views
