Chapter 29 A Gilded Cage
Isabella’s POV
When I woke up the next morning, he was gone.
His side of the bed was cold.
I sat up slowly, the memory of last night settling in. We had come home in silence. We both showered. He didn’t try to touch me. Didn’t demand anything. He got into bed and kept his distance.
I had expected something different.
I thought he would push. I thought he would use the marriage as an excuse to start demanding a child immediately.
But he didn’t.
He let me sleep.
That surprised me more than it should have.
I got out of bed and showered again, needing the water to clear my head. When I stepped into the hallway, the penthouse was quiet.
Too quiet.
I followed the smell of food to the kitchen.
The chef was there, already working.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said politely. “Breakfast is ready.”
I nodded, still not used to that word. Ma’am.
He placed a plate in front of me. Eggs. Fruit. Toast. Coffee.
I sat at the island alone and ate in silence.
I kept thinking about last night.
About the car.
About the way his voice sounded when he said, You don’t know what I am.
About the way he didn’t touch me.
Was that restraint? Or strategy?
After breakfast, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
The entire top floor belonged to him. It felt less like a home and more like a private kingdom.
I walked through it slowly.
Long hallways. Closed doors. A private office. A lounge. A library. Floor-to-ceiling windows showing the city below.
Then I found the indoor pool.
It was massive. Clear water. Soft lighting. Quiet.
Beyond that, a set of doors led to the rooftop terrace. Outside was another pool overlooking the skyline.
It was beautiful.
And isolating.
I went back to my room and changed into a swimsuit I found in the closet. Of course it fit perfectly.
Everything here fit perfectly.
I tied my hair up and walked back to the indoor pool.
The water was warm when I stepped in. I pushed off the wall and started swimming. Back and forth. Back and forth.
It helped.
The water muted the noise in my head.
For a few minutes, I could pretend I wasn’t trapped. Pretend this was just a luxury apartment. Pretend I chose this.
It felt good to move. To feel something that wasn’t fear or anger.
For a moment, I could almost pretend I wasn’t trapped.
I reached the edge and turned again.
That’s when I heard it.
“You swim like you’re running from something.”
I froze in the water and turned.
Alexander stood near the pool, hands in his pockets, suit jacket gone, sleeves rolled up. His gray eyes were locked on me. Not casual. Not curious.
Claiming.
I pushed my hair back and swam to the edge slowly. I climbed out, water sliding down my skin, and reached for the towel.
Before I could wrap it around myself, his hand caught my wrist.
Firm.
Unyielding.
I looked up at him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
His gaze moved over me slowly. Deliberately. From my wet hair to my shoulders, down the length of me, then back to my eyes.
“You really think you can walk around like that in my house,” he said quietly, “and I won’t touch you?”
My pulse jumped.
“I wasn’t walking around,” I said. “I was swimming.”
He stepped closer, closing the space between us.
“This entire floor is mine,” he said. “Every room. Every wall. Every breath taken in it.”
His fingers tightened around my wrist, then slid down, settling at my waist. He pulled me against him in one sharp motion.
I gasped, my hands landing against his chest.
He was warm. Solid.
His other hand came up, brushing wet hair off my shoulder. Slow. Controlled.
“You look better like this,” he murmured, eyes dark with desire. “No attitude. No sharp mouth. Just wet and quiet.”
“I am not quiet,” I snapped.
His lips curved.
“There she is.”
His hand pressed more firmly at my lower back, holding me in place.
“Tonight,” he said, voice dropping, “you’re coming with me.”
“To what?” I asked.
“A business dinner.”
I tried to step back. He didn’t let me.
“My assistant laid everything out for you,” he continued. “Dress. Heels. Jewelry. Hair appointment at five.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“You don’t need to agree. You need to obey.”
My jaw tightened.
“Who’s going to be there?”
“Board members. Investors. Men who watch everything.”
“They need to see stability,” he continued. “They need to see that I’m settled. That I’m a family man. Not dangerous.”
“You expect me to act like some perfect, obedient wife?” I asked.
“I expect you to play your role.”
“And what exactly is my role?”
He reached up and brushed a wet strand of hair off my shoulder. His fingers moved slowly down my arm, deliberate.
“You’ll sit beside me,” he said. “You’ll smile when I speak. You’ll look at me like you trust me. You’ll make them believe I come home to loyalty.”
His breath was warm against my skin.
I let out a dry laugh.
“Be a good girl tonight,” he added quietly. “Make them believe you adore me.”
His hand slid from my waist to my chin, lifting my face toward his.
“You will be a good girl,” he repeated. “No sarcasm. No attitude. No cold distance.”
“I’m not your property.”
His jaw tightened, but his voice stayed calm.
“You are my wife. And tonight, you belong to me.”
My pulse jumped.
“And if you do it well,” he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips, “I might reward you.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
He released me slowly.
“Be ready by seven,” he said. “And Isabella?”
I looked at him.
“Tonight, when we get home,” he said, his voice low and steady, “your duties as my wife begin.”
His eyes moved over me slowly, openly, without apology.
“You’ll open those beautiful legs for me,” he continued, tone calm but charged, “and I’m going to take you the way a husband takes his wife.”
There was no rush in him. No hesitation. Just control.
“You’ve kept your distance long enough,” he added quietly, stepping closer, his gaze dark and deliberate. “Tonight, you don’t pull away. Tonight, you give in.”
Then he turned and walked back inside, leaving me standing there, wet and shaken.