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

10

CHAPTER TEN

CONTROL IS AN ILLUSION

ISABELLA

The next morning, I decided something very important. I was going to act normal. Not pretend normal. Actually normal. No avoiding. No staring. No overthinking every word he said like it carried hidden meaning. Just… normal. It sounded reasonable. Achievable. Almost laughable.

———

I got dressed early. Simple outfit. Nothing that clung too much or revealed too much. No unnecessary effort. Because I wasn’t dressing for anyone. Especially not him. That thought alone annoyed me.

I stepped out into the hallway, forcing my shoulders to relax, my breathing to steady. You’re fine, Isabella. This is fine. You are an adult. Act like one. I chanted to myself

Camille was already in the kitchen, barefoot, leaning against the counter while scrolling through her phone. “Look who finally decided to join the living,” she said without looking up. “I was starting to think you’d locked yourself in your room for dramatic effect.”

“I was sleeping,” I said, grabbing a glass.

“Lies. You don’t sleep. You stare at the ceiling and spiral.”

I rolled my eyes. “I do not spiral.”

“Mmm.” She glanced up, eyes narrowing slightly. “You look better though.”

“Better than what?”

“Better than yesterday. Less… haunted.”

I paused mid-motion. “I wasn’t haunted.”

“You were,” she said simply. “But I won’t push. Yet.”

“Any plans today?” I asked, changing the subject quickly.

“Beach. Lunch. Maybe drag you into the ocean whether you like it or not.”

“I like the ocean.”

“You like staring at it. Different thing.” I rolled my eyes, but a small smile slipped through. This was good. This was normal. This was exactly what I needed.

“Good morning, Camille.” Great.

“Morning, Dad,” she replied easily. “You’re back earlier than I expected.”

“Plans changed.” I hated how familiar that sounded. I turned then. Mistake.

Alexander stood a few feet away, dressed casually but still somehow more put-together than anyone had a right to be this early in the morning. His gaze met mine briefly.

“Did you sleep?” Camille asked him.

“Enough.”

“You look like you didn’t.”

“I rarely do.” That sounded like him. Controlled. Distant. Untouched. Except I knew better now. Or at least…I thought I did.

———

We ended up on the beach by late morning. The sun was warm, the water impossibly blue, the kind of setting that should make everything feel lighter. It didn’t. Because awareness had a way of ruining simplicity.

Camille stretched out on a towel, sunglasses on, completely relaxed. I sat beside her, knees pulled slightly to my chest, pretending the ocean required my full attention.

Alexander was further down, speaking on his phone, his voice low and unreadable as the wind carried fragments of conversation away. I told myself not to look. So naturally, I looked. Just once. That’s what I told myself. Just once.

His posture was relaxed, but there was tension in the way he held himself. Controlled, like always, but not effortless. Like something underneath was working harder than it should. My chest tightened.

Stop. This is exactly what you said you wouldn’t do. I dragged my gaze away, focusing back on the water.

“You’re spacing off again.” I flinched slightly. Camille didn’t even open her eyes.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Mmm.”

I turned to her. “You’re not even looking.”

“Don’t need to,” she said lazily. “I can feel it.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does when you’ve known someone long enough.” She finally turned her head slightly, peeking at me over her sunglasses. “You only get that quiet when you’re thinking too much.”

“I’m not thinking too much.”

“You’re lying again.” God. This girl was exhausting. Just like her father.

“I’m just… tired.” She stared at me for a long moment.

“If you say so.” But she didn’t believe me. Not even a little.

———

“Camille.”

Alexander’s voice cut through the moment. She sat up slightly. “Yeah?”

“I need you to send me the files from last week. The ones from the foundation meeting.”

“Now?”

“When you can.”

She groaned. “Fine. I’ll grab my laptop.” She stood, brushing sand off her legs, then looked down at me.

“Don’t move. I’m coming back.”

“Okay.”

She walked off toward the house, leaving me alone. Alone. Again. I didn’t look at him. Not immediately. I stared straight ahead, like if I ignored the situation hard enough, it would disappear. It didn’t. Footsteps approached. Stopped. Close. Too close.

“You’re very committed to this,” he said. I exhaled. “To what?”

“Pretending I’m not here.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Of course not.” His tone said otherwise.

“I’m just… giving you space,” I added.

“That’s considerate of you.” There was something almost amused in his voice. I didn’t like it. “You’re trying very hard to regain control.”

My chest tightened. “I have control.”

“No,” he said quietly. “You had it.” That hit harder than it should have.

“And now…” His gaze held mine. Steady. Certain. “Now you’re reacting.” I shook my head.

“No. I’m choosing.”

“Is that what this feels like to you?” he asked.

“Yes.” A lie. He saw it.

He stepped closer, just enough to shift the air between us. “Then choose,” he said.

My pulse spiked. “Choose what?”

“To walk away.” Silence. Heavy. Pressing. I could. I should. This was the moment. The easy exit. The clean line. All I had to do was stand up and leave. My body didn’t move. His gaze didn’t waver.

“Exactly,” he murmured. Something in me snapped, frustration rising.

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“It proves enough.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “It does.” I hated how calm he was. How sure.

“How?” I demanded.

“Because if you really wanted distance,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to pull me in again, “you would have taken it by now.”

My breath caught. Damn him. Damn him for being right. I looked away first. Because I had to. Because if I didn’t, might actually admit it. And once I did that? There would be no going back.

In the distance, Camille’s voice called out something about her laptop. Reality rushed back in. I stood quickly.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” I said, more to myself than to him.

“It will.” I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Because part of me already knew…He wasn’t wrong.