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

11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

PROXIMITY

ISABELLA

Normal lasted exactly three hours. Three. By midday, I had already broken at least two of my own silent rules. I looked too long. I thought too much. And worst of all, I stayed. Because leaving would mean admitting something I wasn’t ready to say out loud.

———

Lunch was Camille’s idea. She dragged us into a seaside restaurant tucked just below the cliffs, all white linen and quiet luxury, the kind of place where everything looked effortless and cost more than it should.

“Sit,” she said, sliding into a chair like she owned the place. I sat across from her, deliberately choosing the seat that put the ocean directly in my line of sight. Not him. Never him.

“You’re being weird again,” Camille said, reaching for the wine list.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m just hungry.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m eating.”

“You haven’t ordered yet.”

I exhaled slowly. “Camille.”

“What?” she said innocently. “I’m just observing.” God. Was this genetic? Did she inherit this from him?

“Good afternoon.” And there it was. The voice. I didn’t look up immediately. I took a slow sip of water, like that would somehow prepare me. It didn’t. When I finally did, Alexander was already sitting down beside Camille, like he’d always been part of the plan.Like this was normal.

“Dad,” she said, smiling easily. “Didn’t think you’d join us.”

“Neither did I.” His gaze flicked to me. Brief. Controlled. Still too much. “Isabella.”

“Mr. Moreau.”

Camille groaned immediately. “Oh my God, are we still doing this? The formal thing is so awkward.”

“It’s respectful,” I said quickly.

“It’s unnecessary,” she shot back. “Just call him Alexander like a normal person.” My grip tightened slightly on the edge of the table. Normal. Right. Alexander didn’t correct her. Of course he didn’t. He just watched. Waiting.

“Alexander,” I said finally, the word sitting strangely on my tongue. His expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes did. Subtle. Dangerous.

“Better,” Camille said, satisfied, going back to the menu like she hadn’t just made everything worse.

The conversation flowed easily after that. Well… for them. Camille talked about everything and nothing, jumping between topics like her brain moved faster than the rest of the world. I responded when needed. Smiled when expected. Acted normal. Except I could feel him. Not touching. Not speaking to me directly. Just… there. Like awareness had weight. Like it pressed against my skin every time he shifted slightly in his seat.

“You’re quiet,” he said at some point. I looked up before I could stop myself.

“I’m listening.”

“To what?”

“Camille.”

Camille snorted. “No one listens to me that intently. Try again.” I ignored her.

“I don’t have anything to add,” I said.

“That’s unlike you,” she replied. My chest tightened.

“It’s not unlike me Camille.” I’m just too tired to think.

“You’ve been saying that for a while now. I mean, I dragged you out of the boring life your boyfriend was tying you to but I think the damage has already been done. You are so boring to not know what fun is anymore.” I smacked her. “Ow… that hurts.” She exclaimed, rubbing the spot I hit. “And you know I’m saying the truth.” She turned to her dad. “Izzy has this so boring boyfriend who only cares about his work more than he cares about her. Sometimes I feel like he’s not interested in her and just keeping her tied to him because she’s pretty.”

“Is that’s so?” Alexander asked, his eyes found mind and didn’t let go. This is going to be annoying.

—

By the time the food arrived, I was already exhausted. Not physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Like every second required effort I didn’t want to admit. Camille, completely oblivious, was halfway through a story about someone from her childhood when she suddenly stood.

“I need to take this,” she said, glancing at her phone. “ I’ll be back.” And just like that, Gone. Splendid.

I didn’t look at him. I focused on my plate like it held the answers to everything.

“You’re doing it again,” he said quietly.

I exhaled. “Doing what?”

“Avoiding.”

“I’m eating.”

“Then look at me.” I shouldn’t have. But I did and it was a mistake. His gaze was steady. Unreadable. Too close to something I didn’t want to define.

“You think this is a game,” I said.

“I don’t play games.”

“That’s funny,” I muttered. “Because it feels like one.”

“It feels like control,” he corrected.

My pulse spiked. “And you think you have it?”

“I know I do.”

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “That’s arrogant.”

“It’s accurate.” Something in my chest tightened painfully.

“Then prove it.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. There it was again. That silence. Heavy. Measured. Dangerous.

“You’re asking the wrong question,” he said finally.

“Then what’s the right one?” He leaned back slightly, studying me like I was something he hadn’t decided how to handle yet.

“The right question,” he said quietly, “is why you keep putting yourself in situations you can’t walk away from.” That hit too close.

“I can walk away.”

“Then do it.” My body didn’t move. His gaze didn’t waver. And the worst part? He knew. A slow exhale left his lips. “Exactly.” I hated that word now.

Camille came back a minute later, completely unaware of the shift in the air.

“Did I miss anything?”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Yes,” he said at the same time.

She blinked between us. “That was… contradictory.”

“Nothing important,” I added. Alexander didn’t argue. He just picked up his glass, taking a slow sip like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t slowly dismantling mine.

—

By the time we left the restaurant, I felt worse than I had that morning. Because now it wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was something else. Something quieter. More dangerous. Something that didn’t feel like a mistake anymore. It felt inevitable. And that? That was the problem. Because I was starting to understand something I really didn’t want to. This wasn’t about proximity anymore. It didn’t matter where we were. Beach. Kitchen. Restaurant. It followed. Him. Me. Whatever this was. And no matter how much I told myself I had control every second around him proved the exact opposite. And the worst part? I was still choosing to stay.