*Isabella's POV*
I threw on the first things I could find, a black hoodie, jeans, and sneakers, barely aware of what I was doing. My hands were shaking, my pulse erratic. I needed answers. I needed him. I slammed the door behind me, flagged down a cab, and gave the driver Damien's address before I could talk myself out of it. The whole ride there, my mind spun in circles. The recording, the things Oliver said, the way Jacob's voice had thundered through my phone. His rage. His silence. His absence. It all clawed at me like a storm building under my skin.
By the time the cab pulled up to the mansion, I wasn't even sure what I was feeling anymore, panic, frustration, desperation, something. I climbed the steps and rang the doorbell.
Once...
Twice...
The third time, the door finally creaked open—and there he was. Jacob. He stood in the doorway, shirtless. His inked arm rested against the frame, muscles flexed slightly from the angle. His chest rose and fell with slow, tired breaths. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw rough with stubble. He looked like hell. Gorgeous, tortured hell.
My gaze dropped to his chest before I could stop it—fuck—but I yanked it back up to meet his eyes. I stood there like an idiot. All the words I'd rehearsed in the cab vanished. What do you even say in a moment like this?
Hey, I heard you break a man's face in my honor, thought I'd swing by and make it weird? "Isabella…" he whispered, like my name had punched the breath out of him.
I stepped closer before my mind could catch up. I didn't say a word. Didn't think. I just wrapped my arms around his neck, pulled him down to me, and kissed him. Hard and Desperate.
The moment our lips touched, it was like everything I'd been holding back—all the tension, the fear, the confusion—just snapped. It wasn't careful. It wasn't clean. It was messy, hungry, and real. And Jacob… Jacob didn't hesitate. Jacob didn't pull away—in fact, he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding to my waist before, with effortless strength, he lifted me clean off the ground. My legs instinctively wrapped around him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he carried me inside without breaking contact.
The heavy door swung shut behind us with a dull thud, the sound swallowed by the rush of our breathing. He pressed me against it, his body warm and solid, caging me in while his mouth claimed mine like he'd been starving for this. I'd started the kiss, but the way he kissed me back—God—you'd swear it was his idea all along. His lips moved with a fierce, deliberate passion, as though he needed me to understand something words could never say.
I'd missed him—more than I'd wanted to admit. And in this moment, I needed him to know how much I appreciated what he did in that meeting, how much it meant that he'd stood up for me. My hands slid along his bare shoulders, nails grazing warm skin, and he slowed. The urgency faded, replaced by something more measured, more intimate. His mouth softened against mine, his lips lingering, coaxing, exploring every angle of my mouth like he had all the time in the world.
I didn't know how much I liked the gentle Jacob until now—the way his touch was steady, the way his kiss felt like he was memorizing me. And God help me… I didn't want him to stop. Eventually, Jacob pulled back, his forehead still resting against mine, his breath warm against my lips.
"Sweetheart… what are you doing here?" he asked softly, almost like he was afraid of the answer.
"I—" I swallowed, my voice catching. "I know what Mr. Pheonix said yesterday. When I left, I wanted to come here and say thank you, but… when I saw you, I realized I missed you and…" I didn't get to finish. He exhaled a long, heavy sigh, the kind that carried both exhaustion and regret. His hands stayed on my waist, holding me like letting go might make me disappear.
"About what you saw in the office… with that woman," he said carefully, his voice dropping. "Isabella, I wanted to tell you—she threw herself at me. I didn't even know her name. It was over in a second, and that must've been when you walked in. I never meant to hurt you. Not for a second." His eyes searched mine, raw and unguarded, the kind of look that begged to be believed. "Please," he said quietly, almost broken, "believe me."
"Deep down, I knew," I admitted quietly. "I knew that bitch threw herself at you, but… you have a reputation as a player, so I chose to believe what I saw. And I'm sorry I didn't trust you."
His gaze softened, the edges of his usual cocky confidence replaced with something more vulnerable. "Do you trust me now, Isabella?"
"I do."
Without another word, he pulled me into his arms. His hold was warm and grounding, the kind of hug that made it hard to remember why we'd been at odds in the first place. When he finally let go, he led me into the kitchen. "Something to drink?" he offered.
"Wine," I said instantly—of course. He poured, sliding the glass across the counter toward me. I took a sip before asking, "So… why didn't you come to work today?" His eyes flicked away from mine. "I didn't want you to see me just yet. I didn't know how to tell you…" His voice was quiet, almost shy. God, he was so cute when he got flustered.
"Thank God I recorded it then," I said, setting my glass down. "You still have the recording?" His tone sharpened. "Of course. Why would I delete it?" I countered, watching the anger begin to simmer in his expression. "With what that bastard was implying…" His jaw clenched, eyes dark. "I felt sick. I wanted to kill him. It took everything in me to stop."
"I'm glad you did stop," I said carefully, sensing the storm brewing in him. "You know… men are like this all the time." That didn't soothe him—it only made the fire in his eyes burn hotter. I had never seen Jacob this livid before, and part of me wasn't sure whether I should step back… or step closer.