Page 17 of Reckless Temptation
She's silent for a beat, processing my admission. "So what now?"
I regain some of my usual confidence, letting a half-smirk form on my lips. "I go after what I want. Always have.”
The words we've exchanged linger, charged and heavy. When I wrap my arms around her, she doesn’t resist, instead molding herself to my embrace. I feel her every breath, the rise and fall of her chest against mine.
Tension drains from us both, replaced by something deeper, more intimate. My head dips, and our foreheads touch. Everything fades—the hum of the city, the weight of our past, the uncertainty of the future.
For this moment, it's just her and me.
We stand there, connected, breathing together. It's raw and unspoken. I never expected to find this kind of understanding with her, of all people. As complicated as everything is, right now, it feels simple. We might be on the edge of something neither of us can fully grasp, but damn, if I don't want to see where it leads.
Chapter 8
Isabelle
TheintensityofXavier’sgaze weighs heavily on me, even as the soft chatter from the party beyond continues. With the city's lights shimmering below us, this balcony feels like an oasis from the rest of the world.
But we can’t hide forever.
"I need to visit the powder room," I say, drawing a breath and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
A smirk forms on his face, the slightly unkempt beard adding a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise impeccable appearance. "Of course," he replies. His voice holds that familiar dominant edge, but there's also a hint of playfulness.
"I'll leave first," I insist, thinking of the whispers and sideways glances that might ensue if we’re seen leaving together. "Don't want to give anyone more fodder for gossip."
His smile is genuine, the kind that reaches his eyes and is devoid of his usual strategic intent. "Always one step ahead, aren't you?"
"Just a habit," I confess, adjusting my pendant necklace. "Growing up in this world has its quirks." Our fingers graze each other briefly, a connection that belies the barriers we've both erected.
Taking a step back, I offer a soft smile before turning and walking away, desperate for a moment of solitude to gather my scattered thoughts and emotions. The imprint of his lips remains, urging me to question everything I thought I knew about Xavier Sterling.
The door to the powder room clicks shut behind me, offering a fleeting escape from the party's hum and the night's unexpected turns. My fingers clasp the edges of the marble counter, grounding me as the echo of our encounter plays on a loop in my mind.
I gaze into the mirror, searching for the confident and assured Isabelle everyone knows. But the woman staring back has a glint of vulnerability in her frizzy hair and smudged lipstick, a softness that Xavier seems to draw out with every interaction.
It's both unsettling and intriguing.
Was what we did a mistake? Or an acknowledgment of something genuine? Despite the past, the undeniable pull between us has grown with each encounter. And tonight, it manifested in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
I remember the press of his lips, the scratch of his beard against my thighs, and the way his hands held me like he was afraid I was going to slip away. It was a moment that said more than words ever could. A promise of more, or maybe just a simple acknowledgment of the present.
As I reapply my lipstick, my thoughts churn. On one hand, getting involved with Xavier seems like a bad idea. Our histories, our families, our rivalries—all potential pitfalls. On the other hand, every bone in my body is yelling not to run away from this, to explore whatever this is between us. My logic-driven side warms to the idea of understanding him, dissecting his layers, while the allure of the unknown tempts my emotional side.
The soft chime of a message on my phone breaks my contemplation. I pull it out, expecting a notification from one of my friends or maybe a work email. Instead, it's a message from Xavier: "Take your time, but know that I'm eagerly waiting."
I inhale deeply, a mixture of apprehension and excitement mingling within. There's no escaping it—I have to confront these feelings, understand them, and decide where to go from here. But for now, I take one last look in the mirror, square my shoulders, and step back into the world outside.
I’m just a few steps from the ballroom when the sound of voices—hushed but intense—carry over to me from just beyond the corridor. The unmistakable timbre of Mateo Sevilla's voice gives me pause. I remember him from the yacht party, his lingering glances and kind smile. As I inch closer, the second voice becomes clearer. It's unfamiliar but has an air of overconfidence that irks me immediately.
"...you know, I wasn’t sure she’d fall for it," the man muses, a self-satisfied chuckle punctuating his words.
Mateo's reply is tinged with an unexpected warmth. "Isabelle is... exceptional. You'd do well not to underestimate her, Steve."
The other man, apparently named Steve, snorts, the sound grating. "Please, I’m the one who works with him. She's just a pawn in Xavier's game. His obsession with Martin Laurent? Using his daughter for whatever twisted plan he's cooked up? Classic Xavier."
Hiding behind the pillar, my heart thuds loudly in my chest. The rawness of their words sends shockwaves of pain and betrayal through me. As they continue, my breaths come in shallow gasps.
"Isabelle has nothing to do with her father's decisions," Mateo counters, the protectiveness evident in his tone.