Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Isabella’s POV
Two weeks in Virginia, and I was already drowning in meetings.
Back-to-back negotiations with potential partners.
Due diligence reviews that lasted until midnight.
Conference calls with Zurich that started at ungodly hours because of the time difference.
Interviews for key positions. It had been my idea to Alexander to establish a new market in the U.S.
, not only to tap into the U.S. market, but because most of our clientele was in the U.S.
However, it was not my idea to establish this new office in Virginia.
But I saw his reasoning behind it. Virginia was a good market—strategically positioned near Washington D.C.
, with strong business incentives, a growing tech corridor, and easy access to both East Coast and international clients.
The task was exhausting, but if anyone was up to it, it was me, because whatever I set my mind to, I made sure it flourished.
I’d barely had time to breathe over the last fourteen days, let alone think about the ghosts lurking in this city.
Which was exactly how I preferred it.
Tonight, though, was different. Tonight was the annual Tech Innovators Gala. It was the kind of event where deals worth hundreds of millions were made over champagne and careful conversation. Where every tech CEO, venture capitalist, and industry leader who mattered would be in attendance.
Alexander had insisted I go, show them Crane Internationale was a force to be reckoned with in the American market.
So here I was, standing in front of the full-length mirror in the penthouse I’d rented upon arrival to Virginia. It was a two bedroom, one for me and one for Adele, though Adele always slept in my room.
I adjusted the dress I had on, the one I’d intentionally purchased with the intent to make a statement. I thought of it like an “I’m back, bitches” kind of dress.
It was a yellow silk dress that clung to every curve of my body before flowing to the floor. It was backless, with a neckline that was just shy of scandalous, and a slit that rode up to my thigh.
I’d paired it with diamond earrings and black heels that added three inches to my height. My dark hair was swept into an elegant updo that showed off the dramatic back of the dress. And my makeup, though minimalistic, was bold and powerful to elevate the sharpness of my features.
I looked like I’d been born to this life instead of clawing my way into it. Isabella Garrett could never have afforded this dress, could never have carried herself with this kind of confidence.
But Estelle Crawford? She owned it.
“Woah…you look beautiful, Mommy,” Adele gasped as she stumbled into my room holding her teddy. “You look like Princess Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”
I turned away from the mirror, meeting her awed gaze with a smile. “Princess Belle, huh? That’s a bit of a stretch now, isn’t it?”
She shook her head. “Princess Belle’s dress is yellow just like yours, and you did your hair the way she did when she was going on that date with the beast.”
“Oh, did I?” I chuckled. “I had no idea.”
“Do you have a date tonight, Mommy?”
“What?” My eyes widened. “Oh no, Adele. I’m attending a gala. It’s for business.”
“Will you come back in time to read me a bedtime story?”
I nodded. “Before eight, I promise.”
She nodded with a smile. “Nanny Sarah said we are going to watch Finding Nemo. She’s already setting up the DVD.”
I crouched in front of her and smoothed her wavy black hair. “That’s good.”
I’d hired a nanny who would look after Adele while I was away at work and also guide her through age-appropriate learning activities.
I’d had to evaluate and cross-evaluate before settling on Sarah Miller, a part-time college student. She was diligent, respectful, and most importantly, she got along well with Adele.
I grabbed my purse and headed out of the room with Adele in hand.
After saying my goodbyes, I went downstairs, got into my car, and drove to the venue.
When I got to the hall, my date for the event, Marcus Wellington, was already waiting for me.
He was the CEO of a mid-sized software company looking to partner with Crane. Nothing more.
I grabbed my clutch, opened the door of my car, and got out.
Marcus’s eyes widened appreciatively. “Wow. You look…stunning.”
“Thank you.” I kept my smile professional. “Shall we?”
As we made our way through the crowd in the hall, Marcus spent most of the time talking about himself—his company’s latest acquisition, his plans for expansion, his yacht.
I made appropriate noises of interest while my mind cataloged the guest list Alexander had sent me earlier.
Who I needed to talk to. Which companies were worth pursuing. Which executives to avoid.
I was so focused on strategy that I barely noticed when Marcus’ hand landed on my waist.
“You know,” he said, his voice dropping to what he probably thought was seductive, “we could skip the gala. Go somewhere more…private.”
I looked down at his hand, then up at his face with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Remove your hand, Marcus. Now.”
“I just thought—”
“You thought wrong.” My voice was pleasant, but edged with steel. “I’m here for business. Nothing else. Are we clear?”
He retreated his hand immediately, his face flushing. “I—yes. Of course. I apologize.”
“Good.” I smoothed my dress. “Let’s keep this professional, shall we?”
I swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, observing my surroundings.
Crystal chandeliers were hung across the hall.
There were ice sculptures of phoenixes rising from flames and a champagne fountain.
The tables were laden with delicacies I couldn’t name.
A string quartet playing something classical in the corner.
We stepped into the inner room, the exclusive lounge reserved for top executives and investors, the real dealmakers’ circle.
And I felt it immediately, the shift in attention.
Heads turned in my direction, conversations pausing mid-sentence.
I didn’t know if it was that they recognized me or the dress was doing exactly what I wanted it to. Or both.
I lifted my chin and met their gazes with confidence, passing smiles the way of people whose eyes connected with mine.
Marcus puffed up beside me, clearly pleased to have me on his arm.
We’d barely made it ten feet into the room when I felt it.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
My skin prickled with awareness. The phantom ache of the severed Mate bond suddenly flared in my chest with a pain I hadn’t felt this acutely in years.
Someone was watching me. Not with casual interest, but with the kind of intensity that felt like a physical touch.
And something told me, that I knew exactly who that was.
I turned slowly, scanning the crowd.
And then I saw him.
Dimitri.
My heart stilled.
He stood across the ballroom, a glass of what was probably scotch in his hand, wearing a tuxedo that fit him like it was made for him.
Which it probably was. He looked…different.
Seemed different. Dangerously, so. He’d gotten more handsome somehow, his jawline sharper, more defined.
His hair was shorter now, styled with precision instead of the tousled mess I remembered.
He looked leaner, but still powerfully built, the tuxedo emphasizing broad shoulders and a trim waist.
But his eyes…they were the one thing that didn’t seem different. Those dark brown eyes I’d once loved. Once trusted. Once believed would keep me safe.
They were locked on me with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
And just like that, the old desire slammed into me with a suddenness that threatened to overwhelm me.
It was unwelcome and most certainly infuriating.
My body remembered him even as my mind screamed not to entertain the memories bursting through my mind like an open floodgate.
I felt my wolf claw slowly to the surface.
Surprised, yes. But also…she felt recognition.
It was a feeling deeper than happiness. It was a primal, soul-deep recognition that made her stir, the same way it had when Dimitri kissed me and the Mate bond snapped into place.
I crushed the feeling, the thoughts—everything—ruthlessly. I wasn’t about to take that trip down memory lane. The Mate bond should remain exactly where it had been in the last five years. The past.
The crowd between us seemed to sense something. They shifted, parting like water, creating a clear path from him to me. Dimitri didn’t hesitate. He started walking, his gaze never leaving my face.
Marcus shifted nervously beside me. “Do you know him?”
“Yes,” I said smoothly. “But he’s…no one.” Not anymore. I said it more to convince myself than anything.
Within seconds, Dimitri was in front of us, close enough that I could smell his scent. I hated the familiarity that came with it, how my wolf wrapped herself around his senses, urging me to do the same.
Dimitri didn’t speak immediately. I watched as his eyes moved slowly, sweeping over me as he took in the dress, the jewelry, the transformation. Something flickered in his expression. Awe.
Then his gaze cut to Marcus, and his entire demeanor shifted. The awe in his eyes was quickly replaced with disdain as he sized up Marcus, his face turning into a hard scowl.
“And you are?” He looked at Marcus with an expression that promised violence.
“Marcus Wellington, CEO of Wellington Corp,” he extended his arm for a handshake, but Dimitri didn’t take it, not bothering to hide his apparent disdain.
Marcus went pale, withdrawing his arm. “You know what? I need to make a call. Excuse me.”
And just like that, my date fled.
I should have been annoyed. But I was too busy trying to control my own reaction, the fury and fear and unwanted attraction all warring inside me.
Dimitri’s eyes returned to my face. His gaze was softer now. Searching.
“Isabella,” he said my name, softly, like he used to all those years ago and that trip down memory lane I didn’t want to take? Well, something pulled me into it with a force that made my jaws clench. Who the hell told him he could say my name like that?
“That’s not my name,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice. “And you’re in my personal space. Kindly step back, Alpha Ravencrest.”
I watched his face contour into a grimace at the formality I used to speak his name. But thank goodness, he stepped back, allowing me to breathe in air rather than his damning intoxicating, mind boggling scent.
“Where have you been?” he deadpanned without any preamble, like he had a right to know, to ask me that question.
I jutted my chin forward. “I only grace my presence to those deserving of it.” The words came out sharp, venomous. “And you, Alpha Ravencrest, lost that privilege five years ago.”
Pain flickered across his face. Real, raw pain that he didn’t try to hide. His jaw clenched, his hands fisting at his sides.
“You look…” He paused, his eyes sweeping over me again. “You look incredible, Isabella.”
I suppressed a wince at the way he said my name again. I hated the way my wolf reacted to it. Even the way my body did too.
“I’d say it was good to see again, but we both know that will be a lie,” I said.
His hand started to lift, like he wanted to touch me, to reach for me. The movement was automatic, unconscious.
I looked down at his hand with undisguised disdain, then back up at his face. “Don’t.”
He froze, his hand suspended between us.
The entire room was watching now. I could feel their eyes, curiosity flickering over me.
Their gazes glinted with approval as they took in my dress and the way my jewelry shimmered in the light.
Obviously, they didn’t recognize who I was.
They were used to seeing Isabella Garrett in cheap clothing, scuffed shoes, and hand-me-downs.
“I need to explain,” Dimitri said quietly. “What happened that night…”
“What happened,” I interrupted, my voice pitched low so only he could hear, “is that you made your choice. You chose your duty over me. You chose your pack, your crown, your perfect political marriage over the Mate bond. Over us.” I leaned in slightly, close enough to see his pupils dilate.
“And now you have to live with that choice. Just like I’ve had to. ”
“Isabella—”
“My name is Estelle Crawford.” I stepped back, putting distance between us. “And you’re in my way.”
Confusion flickered in Dimitri’s expression, but I didn’t stay long enough to let him speak another word or read the regret flickering in his eyes.
I turned and walked away.
My heels struck the marble floor in a steady rhythm that almost masked the war inside me. My wolf stirred, restless and conflicted—her instinct to go back clashing with the steel of my resolve.
And in that moment, my thoughts went back to Adele’s words from earlier: “You look like Princess Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”
Funny. I’d laughed then.
But standing here now, with my pulse still thundering from his nearness, I realized the irony. I had come dressed like Belle. Only I’d just met the beast I’d spent years trying to forget.
Except this isn’t a fairy tale.
The beast stays a beast. And I’ve long since buried the girl who waited for a prince.