The warehouse was quiet, except for the faint scratch of Alek's pen against a ledger. Isabella sat stiffly across from him at the metal table, arms crossed, jaw tight.
"You need to tell me everything about your father's operations," Alek said, his tone calm but commanding. "Every ally, every enemy, every hidden move. If you don't, you're putting yourself—and me—at risk."
Isabella's eyes flared with defiance. "Why should I tell you anything? You're the man who kidnapped me, remember? I don't owe you a thing."
Alek leaned back slightly, studying her. His dark eyes were sharp, assessing, and somehow… amused. "You think this is a game. It's not. Every detail you withhold could cost you your life."
"I'd rather die than talk to you," she shot back, her voice steady, even though her pulse raced.
For a moment, Alek said nothing. The silence stretched, thick with tension. Then he leaned forward, just enough that she could see the faint scar above his eyebrow. "You're stubborn," he said softly, almost a growl. "And reckless. Dangerous qualities for someone in your position. But… I like that about you."
Isabella blinked, caught off guard. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to tell him off, to remind him that she didn't care what he thought. But something in his gaze, the steady intensity, made her falter.
"You… like me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't like anyone," Alek said quickly, his eyes darkening. "Not in this world. Not until now."
Her stomach lurched, but she masked it with a scoff. "You're impossible."
"I'm your enemy," he reminded her, leaning closer, his presence overwhelming. "And yet here we are. You survive because I let you. You breathe because I allow it. And every time you defy me, every time you push me… it annoys me more than it should."
Isabella's heart pounded. She wanted to pull away, to retreat to the corner of the warehouse and pretend none of this mattered. But she couldn't. The tension between them was electric, impossible to ignore.
"Why me?" she asked finally, her voice trembling. "Why not someone else? Why all this… care?"
Alek's jaw tightened. "Because you're not like the others. You're stubborn, clever… alive in a way I haven't seen in a long time. And if I lose you—not to death, but to betrayal—I would never forgive myself."
Isabella stared at him, the words sinking in. She wanted to argue, to reject him, to cling to her hatred. But deep down, she realized something terrifying: Alek Moretti had already started to claim her heart.
And maybe… just maybe, she didn't want him to stop.