Chapter 34 The Cage of Silence
Isabella’s POV
Weeks passed after that night.
Weeks since the wedding.
Weeks since the moment he pinned me to the wall and warned me not to dig deeper.
And in all that time, Alexander had not touched me again.
Not once.
The strange gentleness from that night—the patience, the warmth, the way he had held me like I mattered—vanished as if it had never existed.
Now everything between us was cold again.
Controlled.
Distant.
I was still living in the penthouse, of course. That part hadn’t changed. The top floor of the building remained just as beautiful as the first day I saw it—huge windows overlooking the city, polished floors, rooms larger than most apartments.
But beauty meant nothing when you couldn’t leave.
I was still trapped here.
The only time I ever stepped outside those doors was when Alexander needed me to.
For appearances.
For cameras.
For those carefully staged dinners where we played the part of the perfect married couple. Media flashes, reporters shouting questions, his hand resting on my back like he adored me.
Then the second we returned home, the act ended.
And I was alone again.
No phone.
No way to call Sarah.
No way to talk to anyone.
Just endless quiet and too much time to think.
I hated it.
I hated the silence.
I hated the waiting.
I hated how every day blurred into the next until I could barely tell them apart.
The only difference today was that Alexander hadn’t left for work.
He was home.
Working from his office since early morning.
Which meant this might be my only chance.
If I was careful.
If I played it right.
Maybe I could convince him to give my phone back.
I found the chef in the kitchen preparing fruit.
She didn’t even look up as she worked, her knife moving steadily through strawberries and melon.
“Did Alexander eat breakfast?” I asked.
“No,” she replied simply. “He’s in his home office. Been there since before I arrived. Hasn’t touched a bite.”
Perfect.
I took a slow breath, picking up a tray. Coffee. A bagel. Cream cheese.
If he was working, maybe he was in a decent mood.
Or at least not murderous.
Maybe I could try.
The hallway felt longer than usual as I walked toward his office.
My nerves twisted tighter with every step.
At the end of the hall, the dark wooden door stood slightly open. A thin line of light spilled into the hallway.
I stopped just outside it, balancing the tray carefully.
This was probably a mistake.
He’d snap.
He always snapped lately.
My heart pounded harder.
Then his voice came from inside.
Low. Rough. Impatient.
“You planning to stand there all day?”
I froze.
“I don’t drink cold coffee, Isabella,” he continued. “Move.”
I pushed the door open with my elbow and stepped inside.
The office looked like a war zone.
Papers everywhere.
Documents spread across the massive desk.
His laptop glowed in the middle of it all.
Alexander sat behind the desk, leaning back in his chair.
His shirt hung open at the collar, sleeves rolled up, hair messy like he had been running his hands through it all morning.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
He looked exhausted.
But dangerous as ever.
His gaze lifted to me slowly.
Gray eyes sharp.
I swallowed and stepped forward, setting the coffee and bagel down in front of him.
“I thought you might want this,” I said quietly.
Then I turned to leave.
“Stop.”
The word cut through the room like a blade.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned back.
He was still watching me.
“Come here,” he said, nodding toward the side of his desk.
Suspicion tightened in my stomach.
“Why?”
He didn’t answer.
He just kept staring.
That silent, commanding look that made arguing feel pointless.
Reluctantly, I walked around the desk and stopped beside his chair.
Before I could say anything—
His hand shot out.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled.
I yelped as the world suddenly shifted and I landed directly in his lap.
“What the—”
My hands slammed against his chest as I tried to push away.
But his arm wrapped around my waist instantly, holding me in place.
“Stop moving,” he muttered, voice rough.
My heart raced.
“What are you doing?” I snapped.
“Spread the cream cheese.”
I blinked.
“What?”
He picked up the bagel and knife and pressed them into my hands.
“Do it.”
I stared at him like he had lost his mind.
“You dragged me over here for that?”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“I didn’t ask a question.”
I clenched my jaw but grabbed the knife anyway, spreading the cream cheese across the bagel in quick, irritated strokes.
His hand stayed firmly on my waist the entire time.
Warm.
Heavy.
Annoyingly distracting.
“There,” I muttered, shoving the bagel toward him. “Done.”
I tried to stand.
His arm tightened.
“No.”
I glared down at him.
“What now?”
His expression didn’t change.
“Feed me.”
I stared at him.
“You have two perfectly working hands.”
“I’m busy.”
“You’re sitting.”
“Feed me, Isabella.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You’re unbelievable.”
But I picked up the bagel anyway.
Slowly.
Suspiciously.
I held it out.
He leaned forward and took a bite.
And the entire time, his gaze never left my face.
Which made the whole thing infinitely worse.
After a moment I set the bagel down.
“Are you done?” I asked flatly.
He leaned back in his chair again.
Still holding my waist.
Still not letting me go.
“No.”
I sighed, exhausted.
“What else do you want?”
His gray eyes studied me quietly for a long moment.
Then he spoke.
“What were you really doing here?”
I hesitated, then decided honesty might actually get me somewhere.
“I want my phone back.”
Silence.
One dark eyebrow lifted a fraction.
“You brought me breakfast… to negotiate?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your strategy?”
“It’s all I have.”
He tilted his head, gaze roaming my face like he was trying to peel back layers.
“You’re bored.”
“Yes.”
“You hate being here.”
“Yes.”
“You want freedom.”
“Obviously.”
His thumb moved—just a slow, thoughtful sweep along my side.
Then, calmly: “Not happening.”
I stared at him. “You didn’t even think about it.”
“I did.”
“For two seconds.”
“That’s all it took.”
Frustration ignited in my chest, hot and sharp.
“I’m bored, Alexander. The only time I leave this penthouse is when you drag me out on one of our fake dates. I miss Sarah. I want to see her. I want to at least talk to her on the phone.”
“I don’t trust you yet,” he said evenly. “You might try to run again. If you’re bored, find a way to keep yourself busy.”
I laughed once, bitter. “With what? The people who do everything for you? There’s literally nothing to do here.”
He looked at me then—really looked—and the corner of his mouth curved into that infuriating smirk. His hands tightened on my waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind me my legs were still wrapped around him.
Without warning, he slid his palms up, thumbs brushing the edge of my top. His eyes held mine as he slowly worked the first button free, then the next. The fabric parted. Cool air hit my skin, followed by the heat of his mouth as he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the bare curve of my shoulder.
“Alexander—”
I didn’t even know what I was trying to say.
He lifted his head just enough to meet my gaze again, then dragged his lips along the side of my neck—soft, unhurried, devastating. My top slipped off one shoulder completely. His hands slid beneath the open fabric, warm palms gliding over my ribs, my back, igniting every nerve.
Heat flooded me, sharp and unwanted and undeniable.
“Alexander,” I breathed again, half protest, half plea.
He lifted his head just long enough to lock eyes with me again—pupils blown wide with hunger—then dove back to my neck. Open-mouthed kisses. Slow, filthy drags of tongue. A sharp bite at the pulse point that made my whole body jerk against him.
My top slid completely off one shoulder, then the other. His hands shoved the fabric aside and roamed—rough palms skating over ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, fingers splaying wide across my back
Heat roared through me, liquid and merciless. My nipples tightened painfully against the thin barrier of my bra. Every nerve screamed.
He kissed me then—brutal, consuming. No preamble.
Just tongue and teeth and the taste of coffee and possession.
I hated how instantly I melted into it. Hated how my hands fisted in his shirt and yanked him closer.
Hated the broken moan that tore out of me when our tongues slid together, hot and slick and desperate.
My hips rolled on instinct—grinding down hard against the steel length trapped beneath me. He groaned into my mouth, low and feral. The sound vibrated straight to my clit.
His hands clamped onto my waist again—bruising—and he rocked me forward and back in a slow, punishing rhythm. Every drag of my soaked center over his cock sent white-hot sparks shooting up my spine. Fabric rasped. Friction built. Pressure coiled tighter and tighter.
I was panting against his lips, shaking, dripping, furious at my own body for betraying me so completely.
“Alexander—” His name came out wrecked, needy.
He bit my lower lip—hard—then soothed it with a slow lick.
“Say it again,” he growled against my mouth.
“Alexander.”
The sound of his name seemed to snap something inside him.
His hands tightened on my waist, holding me firmly against him, his breathing heavy as his forehead dropped briefly against mine.
For a moment neither of us moved.
The air between us felt charged, thick with heat and tension, like the entire room had shrunk down to the space between our bodies.
Then—
The office door swung open.
“Alex, you won’t believe what—”
James stopped mid-sentence.
Complete silence filled the room.
I froze.
Slowly—very slowly—I turned my head toward the doorway.
James stood there, one hand still on the door, staring at us.
His eyes moved from my half-slipped shirt… to the way I was sitting in Alexander’s lap… to Alexander’s hands still gripping my waist.
Then back to my face.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Well,” he said after a long pause. “This is… educational.”
Heat exploded across my face.
I scrambled off Alexander so fast the chair nearly rolled backward. My hands flew to my shirt, pulling the fabric back into place as my heart hammered in my chest.
Alexander didn’t move.
Not right away.
He stayed sitting there, jaw tight, staring at James with a look that could have killed a man where he stood.
“Do you ever knock?” Alexander asked.
His voice was calm.
Dangerously calm.
James leaned casually against the doorway like he had just walked into the best show of the day.
“I did knock,” he said. “You two just seemed… distracted.”
His eyes flicked between us again.
A slow grin spread across his face.
“Very distracted.”
Alexander exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Get. Out.”
James raised his hands slightly in mock surrender.
“Relax, relax. I’ll come back later when things are less… passionate.”
“James.”
The warning in Alexander’s voice sharpened.
James chuckled.
“Fine, fine. I’m leaving.”
He turned to go, then paused.
“Just saying,” he added over his shoulder, “nice to see the marriage is finally becoming productive.”
“James.”
James laughed and disappeared down the hallway.
The door closed behind him.
And the office fell into heavy silence.
For a moment neither of us moved.
My heart was still racing, my skin burning everywhere his hands had touched. I kept my eyes on the floor, trying to steady my breathing, trying not to think about the way his mouth had felt on my neck just seconds ago.
Alexander leaned back slowly in his chair.
One hand dragged across his face, his fingers pressing briefly against his eyes like he was gathering his patience again.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
I glanced up.
“What?”
His gray eyes flicked toward the door James had just walked through, irritation still darkening his expression.
“That man has the worst timing of anyone I know.”
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me.
Alexander looked back at me.
“You think that’s funny?”
“A little.”
His gaze lingered on my face for a second longer than necessary.
Then he reached for the desk drawer and pulled it open.
He took something out and tossed it across the desk toward me.
My phone.
It landed softly on the papers in front of me.
I froze.
For a moment I just stared at it, almost afraid to touch it.
Slowly, I picked it up.
“You’re giving it back?” I asked cautiously.
Alexander leaned back again, watching my reaction like he was studying an experiment.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he said calmly, “I’ve decided you’ve earned a little freedom.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“You can leave the penthouse,” he continued. “My driver will take you wherever you want to go.”
The words hit me like a burst of sunlight.
“Really?”
“Within reason,” he added.
I barely heard that part.
Excitement rushed through me so suddenly I didn’t even think.
I stepped forward and threw my arms around him.
“Thank you!”
The second the hug happened, I realized what I’d done.
Alexander went completely still beneath my arms.
Rigid.
Like I had startled him.
Realizing what I’d done, I quickly pulled back, embarrassment flooding my face.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”
I took a few steps backward. The way he was looking at me made my stomach tighten. He didn’t answer right away.
He just stood there, hands slipping into the pockets of his suit pants, staring at me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. His gaze was fixed on me, thoughtful, almost like he was trying to decide something.
I couldn’t read what was going through his mind, but it was enough to make me step back again.
His gray eyes moved slowly over my face, studying me like he was trying to understand something he hadn’t noticed before.
“Come here, Isabella.”
His voice was low, controlled.
I hesitated, then took a cautious step forward.
He didn’t look pleased.
“Closer, Isabella.”
I stepped forward again until I was standing only a few inches away from him.
Before I could say anything, his hand lifted and wrapped around the back of my neck.
The movement was sudden but not rough—firm, guiding.
Before I could react, he pulled me down and kissed me hard.
The kiss stole the air from my lungs instantly.
My hands grabbed the edge of the desk to steady myself as his mouth pressed firmly against mine—possessive, certain, leaving no room for doubt.
When he finally pulled back, my breathing was uneven.
His eyes searched mine for a moment.
“Don’t get carried away,” he said quietly.
My heart was still pounding.
“You behave,” he continued, his voice calm but firm. “My driver will take you wherever you want to go.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“But if you try to run,” he added, his gaze sharpening, “this privilege disappears.”
I nodded quickly.
“I won’t.”
He released my neck and leaned back again, already reaching for his coffee like the moment had never happened.
“I have work to do,” he said.
“Before you go,” he added without looking up.
“Yes?”
“Send James back in.”