Isabella was beginning to understand that Alexander Cole lived in layers.
The world only saw the outer one sharp suits, controlled smiles, and a presence that commanded respect without effort. But over the past two weeks, she had started noticing the subtle cracks beneath that flawless surface.
It happened on a rainy Thursday evening.
They were scheduled to attend a private corporate dinner hosted by one of Alexander's oldest business partners. Isabella stood beside him under the grand entrance canopy of the hotel, watching rain fall in silver sheets against the glowing city lights. The driver hurried to open an umbrella, but Alexander raised a hand, stopping him.
"We'll wait," he said quietly.
Isabella glanced at him, confused. "Wait for what?"
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the rain as though he was somewhere else entirely.
"For the storm to settle," he finally replied.
Something in his tone felt… distant. Not cold, not detached just tired.
Inside the ballroom, crystal chandeliers illuminated the room in warm gold light. Laughter, clinking glasses, and polished conversations filled the air. Isabella slipped easily into her role, greeting guests with effortless charm. She could feel Alexander's hand resting lightly on her waist, grounding her in the performance they shared.
But tonight, his touch felt different.
Tighter.
More possessive.
Halfway through the evening, an older woman approached them. Her elegant silver dress shimmered beneath the lights, and her sharp gaze immediately fixed on Alexander.
"Well," she said smoothly, "this is unexpected."
Alexander's posture stiffened. Isabella felt it instantly.
"Good evening, Victoria," he said, his voice controlled.
Victoria's eyes shifted toward Isabella, scanning her slowly. "So, this is the woman everyone is talking about."
Isabella offered a polite smile. "Isabella Hart."
Victoria's expression softened slightly, but something calculating remained in her eyes. "You should be careful," she said lightly, swirling her wine glass. "Alexander has never been fond of attachments."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "That's enough."
Victoria raised an eyebrow, amused. "I was simply offering advice."
The tension lingered long after she walked away.
Isabella turned toward him. "Who was she?"
"Someone from my past," he replied shortly.
The conversation ended there, but the unease stayed with her.
Later, as they drove through the rain-soaked streets, Isabella couldn't ignore the silence between them. The city lights reflected across Alexander's face, highlighting the tension in his expression.
"You don't have to tell me," she said softly. "But you've been different since she spoke to you."
Alexander exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed ahead. "Victoria was engaged to me once."
The words landed heavily between them.
"Oh," Isabella whispered, unsure what else to say.
"It was years ago," he continued. "The engagement was arranged. Strategic. Beneficial for both families."
"And… what happened?"
Alexander hesitated. For the first time since she met him, he looked uncertain.
"She left," he said quietly. "Not for love. For power."
Isabella felt something twist in her chest. She recognized that kind of betrayal. Ambition choosing opportunity over emotion. It was a language she understood too well.
"That must have hurt," she said gently.
Alexander gave a hollow laugh. "It taught me something valuable."
"What?"
"That feelings complicate negotiations."
Isabella turned toward the window, hiding the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She told herself she shouldn't care. His past was none of her business. Their arrangement was strictly professional.
So why did his words feel like a warning directed at her?
When the car stopped outside her apartment, neither of them moved immediately. Rain tapped softly against the roof, creating a steady rhythm in the silence.
"Isabella," Alexander said suddenly.
She looked at him.
"You should understand something," he continued. "This contract protects both of us. It keeps things clear. Predictable."
"And safe?" she asked.
"Yes."
She nodded slowly, though she wasn't convinced safety was what she wanted anymore.
As she stepped out of the car, cold rain brushed against her skin. She paused before closing the door, leaning down slightly.
"You know," she said softly, "sometimes unpredictability is where real things begin."
Before he could respond, she shut the door and walked toward her building.
Alexander watched her disappear inside, his reflection staring back at him through the rain-streaked glass. Her words echoed in his mind, unsettling the carefully constructed walls he had spent years building.
For the first time, the contract felt fragile.
And for Isabella, as she leaned against the elevator wall inside her building, her heart felt dangerously exposed.
She had agreed to pretend.
But somewhere between rehearsed smiles and shared silences, pretending was becoming harder with every passing day.