Chapter 33 The Distance He Chose
Isabella’s POV
You would think after that night things would finally get better.
The way he held me.
The way he touched me like I wasn’t something to conquer but something to understand.
The way he said, When you’re ready, we’ll keep going.
The way he told me, Tonight isn’t about taking everything. It’s about learning you.
You would think that meant something.
You would think it meant we had crossed into something real.
But instead of getting better—
Things got worse.
Much worse.
To be honest, I’m not even sure what I expected from him. I don’t know exactly what I wanted either. Maybe something softer. Maybe a glimpse of a different side of him.
The way he was with me that night made me think things could change between us.
I thought maybe we would finally talk without fighting.
Maybe we could sit in the same room without the tension that always filled the air between us.
He had been gentle with me, patient in a way I never expected from him.
I thought maybe he would want to get to know me, and maybe I could try to understand him too—his cold personality, the walls he carried around him.
But that’s not what happened.
The very next morning, he was gone before I woke up.
His side of the bed was cold. Not recently empty—cold. Like he had made sure to leave long before there was any chance I might open my eyes and see him there.
At first, I told myself it was work.
He was busy. Important. A man with responsibilities, meetings, and a schedule that probably swallowed every hour of his day.
But then it happened again.
And again.
Each morning he left earlier than the last. If I woke up at six, he had already gone by five. When I forced myself out of bed at five, hoping to finally catch him before he left, the apartment was already empty.
It didn’t take long for the truth to settle in.
He wasn’t just busy.
He was avoiding me.
Not avoiding conversation.
Avoiding me entirely.
He started coming home late too. Sometimes past midnight. Sometimes closer to two in the morning. And even when I heard the front door open, he didn’t come looking for me.
He went straight to his office.
Or straight to the shower.
Or straight to bed long after I had already given up waiting.
He didn’t touch me anymore.
Didn’t brush past me in the hallway.
Didn’t pull me close without thinking.
Didn’t even look at me the way he had that night.
It was like that version of him never existed.
Like I had imagined it.
Like the man who held me gently in the dark had only been a brief moment of weakness he’d already erased from his memory.
Like the softness I saw was something he regretted showing.
And the worst part?
He acted like I hadn’t seen him break in his sleep.
Like I hadn’t heard him begging in the middle of that nightmare.
Like I hadn’t leaned over him in the dark and whispered that he was safe.
If I even hinted at bringing it up, he shut it down immediately. Cold. Final. Like the subject itself didn’t exist.
Now I sat alone on the couch, a movie playing on the giant screen in front of me that I wasn’t really watching.
The penthouse was quiet.
Too quiet.
I still didn’t have my phone. Alexander hadn’t given it back to me. I couldn’t call Sarah. I couldn’t text anyone. I couldn’t even step outside this place without someone following me.
I was stuck here.
Alone in this beautiful cage.
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, staring blankly at the flashing colors on the screen, when I suddenly heard footsteps behind me.
My head snapped up.
Alexander.
He had just walked through the door.
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge me. He simply loosened his tie slightly and started walking past the living room toward the bedroom like I wasn’t even there.
Something inside me snapped.
I stood up quickly.
Can we talk for a minute?” I asked.
He didn’t even slow down. “I’m not in the mood, Isabella. There’s nothing to discuss.”
“You were having a nightmare,” I said carefully.
He stopped walking but didn’t turn around. “I don’t have nightmares.”
“I heard you.”
“Then you imagined it.”
His tone was flat. Final.
That was how every conversation ended lately.
One-word answers. Dismissals. A wall I kept running into.
It felt like punishment.
Like he resented the fact that I had seen him vulnerable. That I had heard him beg in his sleep. That I knew there was something inside him he couldn’t fully control.
Maybe Ava was right.
Maybe he had never faced something he couldn’t dominate before.
Maybe I was the first thing that didn’t bend.
But instead of meeting me halfway—
He shut down.
“Can you please stop snapping at me?” I said, my frustration breaking through. “I’m trying to understand you. Even after everything I’ve seen. Even after watching you kill someone.”
“I have work,” he said, turning to face me now. “And I don’t have patience for this.”
“I thought after that night we’d at least try,” I said. “You were different. You were—”
“Stop overanalyzing everything,” he cut in.
“I’m not overanalyzing. I’m trying to understand who you are.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I want to.”
His expression hardened.
“That’s your first mistake.”
The words landed heavy.
“I spoke to Ava,” I said quietly.
His eyes sharpened. “About what?”
“She said you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be. That there’s more to you.”
“And you believed her?”
“I want to.”
A humorless smile touched his mouth. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because whatever you think you’re going to find,” he said, voice dropping, “you won’t like it.”
“I’ve already seen things I didn’t like,” I shot back. “That didn’t scare me away.”
“You saw a moment,” he said. “You think that makes you informed?”
“Then let me see more.”
His jaw flexed.
“No.”
Just that.
I took a step toward him, ignoring the warning in his eyes.
“Why won’t you let me in?”
The change in him was instant.
His hand shot up and closed around my throat, his grip rough and unyielding. Not quite enough to crush—but firm enough to make the power difference painfully clear.
His fingers tightened just slightly, a silent reminder of how easily he could overpower me if he chose to.
He leaned down until his face was inches from mine.
Not squeezing hard enough to choke me.
But firm enough to stop me in place.
My breath caught.
His face was inches from mine now, his gray eyes darker than I had ever seen them.
“Listen carefully,” he said quietly.
His voice was calm, but there was something dangerous underneath it.
“There are parts of me you do not want to see.”
His fingers tightened slightly against my neck.
“You think you’re curious now,” he continued, his gaze locked on mine. “But the man behind that door is not someone you will understand.”
My heart hammered in my chest.
“You are here for a reason,” he said. “Don’t confuse that reason with anything else.”
His voice dropped lower.
“Be careful, Isabella. You don’t want to see what I’m capable of when I stop holding back.”
The warning in his tone sent a chill down my spine.
“You don’t want to wake the monster in me.”
For a moment neither of us moved.
Then he released my throat
He walked past me without another word and disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom.