The sun was already sinking by the time he drove into my old street, bathing the city in a beautiful amber light. He parked along the curb as if this were an ordinary visit, not a return to something that my mind had buried for years. A few of his men were already in place, dressed as tourists or passersby, blending seamlessly into the evening crowd.
I recognized the building immediately.
My one-bedroom apartment sat only minutes from the historic quarter. It was small, narrow. Almost forgettable to anyone else. But I knew inside, it held tall wooden ceilings, pale furniture and worn wooden floors that creaked softly with familiarity.
Quaint, in the way an ordinary life could be.
The sight of it tightened something in my chest.
When he unlocked the door and guided me inside, the ache only sharpened, but I kept my face carefully neutral. I masked it with confusion instead, letting my brows lift slightly, as if I were trying to place the space. As if it meant nothing to me.
He had kept everything the same.
"What is this place?" I breathed, unable to keep the stunned in my voice.
He closed the door behind us, pressing the past quietly back into the room.
"This was your old place," he said quietly. "I bought the building. Made sure nothing changed."
The words landed like a blow.
A tear slipped free before I could stop it, hot and traitorous. My chest tightened painfully, breath catching as if something inside me had been torn open. God, it hurt. This hurt too much.
"Are you alright?" Alex asked, concern flickering across his face as he stepped closer. His hand lifted toward me, and for a moment, I saw him. The man I married. "Are your memories—"
The slap came before thought could intervene.
The sound cracked through the room, sharp and final. My palm burned as his head snapped to the side. I gasped, both hands flying to my mouth when he turned back slowly, one cheek already red with the mark my hand had left behind.
"I didn't mean—" I started, then stopped myself, shaking my head violently. The words curdled on my tongue. "No. You know what? You deserved that." My voice broke anyway. "You deserve worse! For killing Dario, for ruining my fucking life, for dragging me into this like you get to decide what's best for me." I laughed bitterly, hollow. "What game are you playing, Alex?"
Something in his expression fractured.
"Tell me," he said hoarsely, those green eyes wild as his hand shot out, fingers curling around my throat. He pulled me flush against him, breath hot and uneven between us. "What part of your life did I ruin?"
My pulse thundered beneath his grip.
"I saved you," he continued, his voice trembling with conviction. "From a loveless marriage. From a kingdom that's already collapsing in on itself." His forehead pressed briefly to mine, desperately intimate. "I even offered you mine instead."
His thumb brushed my jaw, almost tender.
"Think of what we could be together, Isla," he whispered it like a promise. Like it was salvation.
"Nothing will change," I murmured, my fingers clawing weakly at his wrists. My gaze dropped to his mouth because I couldn't bare to look into his eyes. He would see it. He would know. "Even if I remember everything," I whispered. "I'll still hate you."
He exhaled slowly, almost patiently. "No matter how much you tell yourself that," he said, tipping my head gently to the side, his touch reverent, intimate. His lips brushed my temple, barely there, as he breathed me in like something he had been deprived of for too long. "Your body will always answer to me."
My breath hitched.
"Your soul is mine," he continued softly, with the quiet certainty of a man stating fact rather than desire. "You love me."
"Release me, Alex," I said, squeezing my eyes shut as tears spilled despite my efforts to hold them back. They fell freely now, unchecked, like rain against glass, silent and relentless. "Please."
I didn't know how much longer I could fight this. One moment, he felt like the man I had once loved, the man who had held me gently and gave me a future. The next, he was something else entirely. He turned into a man the world feared, one I didn't recognize.
"No," he said calmly, almost absentmindedly, as he guided me backward, pressing me into the narrow doorway between the living room and the kitchen.
His body caged me in. I could feel the wooden beam pressing against my back. So I let the pain ground me.
"Never."
His voice steady, unwavering.
I clawed at him harder, nails biting into his skin, but he didn't release me. He only leaned closer, crowding my space until there was nowhere left to retreat. My body already betrayed me. I could feel heat curling low and unwelcome, a response I despised even as it took hold.
I hated that he had made me this way. Hated that he knew.
"I love you too much to let you go," he murmured, his voice rough, unsteady. His thumb brushing my cheek, catching a tear before it could fall. "You'll be my wife again. For real this time. Even if I had to drag you down the aisle with me."
The words stunned me. My eyes flew open and my breath hitched. My lips parted in protest, but he was already there.
His mouth covered mine, urgent and claiming, swallowing whatever I had meant to say. I tried to fight him, turn away, bite back, but his hand only slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer until all kinds of resistance felt useless. Until all I could feel was him, and the hard edge of the doorway pressing into my spine.
I gave in, hating myself for it even as I kissed him back.
The collision was violent, desperate. All teeth, breath and grief. His body pressing hard against mine, relentless, as if he was trying to fuse us together, erase the space where I still existed without him. When he shoved me back harder, pain bloomed sharp and bright. A broken sound tearing out of my throat before I could stop it.
He stilled for a half a second.
Not in remorse, but in reverence. As if even my pain belonged to him.
Then he kissed me again, his hands gripping my thighs with rough urgency, lifting the backs of my knees and spreading them wide. He ground into my with fierce insistence. A clash of hunger and torment driving every motion.
I tried to fight back. Tried pushing him away, but he didn't relent.
Instead, he released my neck just to seize both my wrists, pinning them above my head with merciless strength. So I bit into his lip, sharp and reckless, drawing blood but he only chuckled. A dark, knowing, sexy sound as I traced my tongue over the wound, sliding lower and lower until I sunk my teeth into his neck, sucking hard.
He groaned. A sound so raw and broken. His hard length pressing deeper against me, relentlessly hammering me against the doorway.
His grip on my wrists loosened just enough. So I took the chance, freed one hand and shoved him back hard, sending him tumbling onto the floor. I straddled him, my heart pounding but his hand shot up, grabbing my hair and pulling hard enough to stop me mid-motion.
Still, my hips moved against his, relentless. Trying to ride out our hunger even over our clothes.
"Don't you want this, Alex?" I breathed, lips curling with a mix of insanity and aching need.
"Prove it to me first," he rasped back, his voice ragged and raw, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy between us.