Page 15 of Reckless Temptation
Pulling back, I find myself trapped in the depths of his gaze. The unspoken challenge, the heat, the promise—it's all there. Trying to maintain my composure, I reply with feigned indifference, "Let's keep it that way."
But the erratic rhythm of my heart and the heat pooling in the pit of my stomach betray the truth.
The music slows, the last notes suspended in the air. Xavier's hand is firm against the small of my back, pulling me closer. His eyes, intense and searching, hold mine. The world around us fades.
A soft round of applause begins, echoing through the vast ballroom. The reality of our surroundings intrudes, reminding me that we aren't alone. But it's Xavier's next move that truly shatters the spell.
He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Ever think of what could be, Isabelle?"
Heat floods my face. The suggestion, whispered so intimately, sets my nerves alight. I pull back slightly, searching his face for a clue, a hint. But he only offers a half-smile, unreadable.
Drawing a shaky breath, I find my voice, although it's barely above a whisper. "This isn't the time or place, Mr. Sterling."
He chuckles, low and soft, his eyes never leaving mine. "Isn't it?"
Before I can muster a reply, he releases me, stepping back and bowing slightly. The applause grows louder, drowning out the turmoil of emotions within me.
Around us, the ballroom buzzes with life. Conversations pick up, and laughter rings out, but I'm rooted to the spot, the weight of Xavier's words and the intensity of our dance still pressing down on me. I need air. I need space.
Turning on my heel, I slip through the crowd, hoping to find a quiet corner to gather my thoughts. But one thing is clear—whatever "this" is between Xavier and me, it's far from over.
Pushing my way through the throngs of elegantly dressed attendees, I finally spot my parents standing near one of the ornate columns. My father's posture is rigid, a sure sign of his disapproval. As I approach, he turns to me, eyes sharp.
"Isabelle," my father's voice drips with disdain, "dancing with Xavier Sterling, are we now? After everything?"
I take a deep breath, steadying myself against his reproach. "Father, it was just a dance."
His expression darkens further. "You think he's genuinely interested in you? He's using you to get back at me for his failures. Are you so naive to fall for his games?"
Mother’s gaze flits between us, a silent plea for calm, but she remains silent, her lips pressed into a thin line.
I feel a stab of hurt at his words. "I'm not a child. I'm well aware of your history with him. And just because you two have unresolved issues doesn't mean I can't form my own opinions about people."
He shakes his head with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "After everything I've taught you, all the lessons, and you still get entranced by his charm. He's a snake, Isabelle, and you're letting him use you."
I feel my eyes welling up with tears, not entirely from anger but from the sting of his words and his lack of faith in me. "Excuse me," I mutter, turning swiftly on my heels. The need to escape, to find solace, becomes paramount.
Navigating through the crowd, I avoid eye contact, my vision blurred. I make my way toward what I think is the direction of the powder room. However, a slight draft and the muted sounds of the city lead me to a secluded balcony instead.
The night air envelops me, a gentle yet chilling embrace that offers fleeting solace. Below, silhouettes move behind lit windows, their muffled laughter punctuating the silence. As I lean against the balcony's edge, the city stretches out, a shimmering tapestry of lights, seemingly unaffected by the turmoil raging inside me.
Every moment with Xavier flashes like a disjointed reel in my mind: the intensity of his gaze, the unexpected warmth of his hand against mine, and those stolen kisses that felt both wrong and intoxicatingly right. For a man known to be strategic and meticulous, his touches bear an unexpected honesty.
But then there's the part of him that’s an enigma, intricately linked to my father's past betrayals.
My heels clink softly against the floor as I pace, struggling to reconcile the feelings swirling within me. Xavier’s motives might be questionable, but there's also a side to him that contradicts everything I've been warned about.
The soft echo of footsteps against stone pulls me from the maze of my thoughts, and I stiffen, immediately recognizing the gait. A mix of apprehension and defiance settles within me as I turn, the city lights painting Xavier in muted golds and blues.
"Isabelle," his voice is low, almost a whisper. He steps closer, and I can feel the warmth emanating from him. "I've been hoping to get you alone."
Our eyes lock, the weight of everything unsaid between us pressing down. The air is thick with anticipation, leaving us both suspended in that moment.
Chapter 7
Xavier
Thechillfromthebalcony, intertwined with the distant hum of the city, sweeps over me, but it's Isabelle's presence that sends a different kind of shiver down my spine. The moonlight softly illuminates her features, highlighting the curve of her cheekbone and the shimmer of her eyes. That slightly raised eyebrow, the soft smirk on her lips—it's confrontational in a teasing way, hinting at a deeper conversation. The dress she's wearing clings to her, making me want to rip it off and see what’s underneath.