His Forbidden Obsession: Tempting The Devil I Can't Have

7

CHAPTER SEVEN

CLOSE PROXIMITY

ISABELLA

I avoided him. Not in a subtle, mature, “I’m in control of myself” way.

No.

I avoided him like a coward who had just realised she was standing too close to the edge of something she couldn’t survive falling into. The problem? The house was too big to feel small… and too small to actually hide in. And I didn’t like the way it felt.

———

Breakfast was my first mistake.

I woke up earlier than usual, determined to reclaim some sense of normalcy. Coffee. Fresh air. Maybe even a conversation with Camille that didn’t involve me internally screaming. Simple. Manageable. Safe. I should have known better.

The terrace was quiet when I stepped out, the morning sun spilling gold across the table. For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe, to settle into the illusion that last night hadn’t shifted something fundamental. I poured myself coffee, wrapped my fingers around the warm mug, and sat down. Peace. Silence. Then, chaos.

“You’re up early.” I froze. Of course. Of course he would be here. Because apparently, the universe had decided I didn’t deserve even five minutes of stability. Slowly, I looked up.

Alexander stood at the far end of the terrace, sleeves rolled up, a glass of water in his hand like he hadn’t just single-handedly disrupted my entire nervous system. Composed. Untouched. Like last night hadn’t happened. Like I hadn’t stood in his room, questioning my life choices.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said, because apparently that was my default personality now. His mouth curved slightly.

“Again?”

I hated that he noticed things. “Yes. Again.”

Silence stretched between us, thinner than before, but sharper. Less uncertainty. More awareness. That was worse. He walked toward the table. Not fast. Not slow. Just… inevitable. Every step felt deliberate, like he was giving me time to react. To leave. I didn’t.

He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. Just like that. Like this was normal. Like we weren’t standing on something fragile and dangerous. I stared at my coffee, pretending it required my full attention.

“You’re avoiding me.” Straight to the point. No hesitation. No politeness.

My grip tightened around the mug. “I’m not.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you.”

My head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

His gaze held mine, calm and certain. “You’ve barely looked at me since I got back,” he said. “You left the room like it was on fire last night.”

“It kind of was,” I muttered. One eyebrow lifted. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to meet his eyes properly. “Maybe I just realised it was inappropriate,” I said. “Ever think of that?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And I don’t think that’s why you’re avoiding me.” My pulse picked up.

“Then enlighten me,” I said, leaning back slightly. “Why am I avoiding you?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched me. Studied me. Like he was peeling something back layer by layer.

“You tell me.” God. This man was exhausting.

“I walked into your room,” I said, my voice tighter than I wanted. “You were…” I stopped. Cleared my throat. “It was awkward. End of story.”

“It wasn’t just awkward.”

“It was for me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I looked away first. Because I knew exactly what he meant. And I didn’t want to say it out loud. Didn’t want to give it shape.

“Then what did you mean?” I asked quietly.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers tapping once against the table before going still. “It changed something,” he said. There it was. Simple. Accurate. Uncomfortable. My throat went dry.

“Only if we let it,” I said. His gaze sharpened.

“That’s an interesting choice of words.” I swallowed.

“I’m just saying it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Is that what you want?” The question landed heavier than it should have. Did I? Did I want this to mean nothing? Did I want last night to just be a mistake I could neatly file away and forget? My silence answered for me. Of course it did. He noticed. And of course he did. He always does.

“Thought so,” he murmured. Something in my chest tightened, irritation sparking to life.

“You’re very confident,” I said. “For someone who keeps telling me this shouldn’t happen.”

“I am confident,” he replied calmly. “In my ability to recognise patterns.”

“And I’m a pattern now?”

“You’re a variable I didn’t account for.” I blinked. That…was not what I expected.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to pull me in despite myself, “I don’t make careless decisions.” My heart skipped.

“Then don’t,” I shot back. Silence. A charged one. He held my gaze for a long moment.

“That would be the logical choice.”

“But?” He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Because the tension sitting between us? That was the “but.”

“Good morning!” Camille’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. I jerked slightly, breaking eye contact immediately.

Alexander leaned back in his chair as if nothing had happened. I wonder how he can look so calm in a moment like this.

Camille walked onto the terrace, bright and effortless, completely unaware that she had just interrupted something that should not exist.

“You’re both up early,” she said, grabbing a croissant and dropping into the chair beside me. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

“At all,” Alexander added smoothly. Camille eyed us both, suspicious for exactly two seconds before shrugging it off.

“Boring,” she said. “I expected at least some drama.” If only she knew.

I forced a small smile, focusing on my coffee again, willing my pulse to calm down. This was fine. Everything was fine. We were just three people having breakfast. Nothing complicated. Nothing dangerous. Nothing that could ruin everything.

Except, I could still feel his gaze on me. Even when I refused to look back. And that was the problem. Because avoiding him suddenly felt a lot harder than it should have been. And something told me this was only the beginning. I’m in trouble.