Isabella should have known better than to think Ethan Lancaster would let her go so easily.
For the past week, she had done everything in her power to avoid him. She changed her usual coffee shop, ignored any calls from unknown numbers, and even took a different route to work. But no matter what she did, there was always a lingering feeling—that unsettling awareness that she was being watched.
And tonight, that feeling was suffocating.
The restaurant was warm, filled with soft laughter and clinking glasses, but Isabella felt none of its comfort. Across from her, Daniel smiled as he reached for the bottle of wine, pouring them both a generous amount.
"So, tell me," he said, leaning in slightly, "why did it take me three months to finally convince you to have dinner with me?"
Isabella forced a smile, trying to ignore the unease prickling at her skin. "I've been busy."
"Busy avoiding me?" Daniel teased, and she laughed softly, shaking her head.
"No, just… work has been a lot."
Daniel was nice. He was smart, kind, and unlike Ethan, he didn't radiate danger. She should feel safe with him, but she didn't. Not because of anything he had done, but because of the man watching her.
She didn't need to turn around to know Ethan was here.
She could feel him.
It was as if the air in the restaurant had changed, thick with something dark and possessive. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on Daniel.
"So, tell me more about your work," she said, trying to distract herself.
But before Daniel could respond, a deep voice cut through the air.
"I didn't realize you had such terrible taste in company, Isabella."
Her body tensed instantly.
Slowly, she turned her head, and there he was.
Ethan Lancaster stood beside their table, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his presence commanding the attention of everyone around him. His cold blue eyes weren't on Daniel. They were on her.
Her breath hitched.
"Ethan," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "What are you doing here?"
Ethan's gaze flickered to Daniel briefly before settling back on her. "Dinner, apparently."
Daniel, to his credit, didn't shrink under Ethan's intense presence. Instead, he arched a brow. "Do you two know each other?"
Isabella opened her mouth to respond, but Ethan spoke first.
"Oh, Isabella and I know each other quite well." His voice was smooth, confident, and laced with something dark. "She must have forgotten to mention that."
Daniel's expression darkened slightly, but before he could say anything, Ethan leaned down, placing one hand on the back of Isabella's chair. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered,
"Leave. Now."
Isabella's hands clenched into fists in her lap. "Excuse me?"
Ethan didn't move. "You don't belong here with him."
"I am on a date," she hissed, her pulse racing. "You don't get to dictate who I—"
Ethan's fingers lightly brushed the back of her neck, making her shiver. "I do."
Daniel stood, his jaw tight. "I think you should leave."
Ethan finally straightened, a slow smirk forming on his lips. "That's cute. You think you have a say in this?"
Isabella pushed back her chair abruptly. "That's enough."
She grabbed her purse, giving Daniel an apologetic look before glaring at Ethan. "You don't own me."
For a brief moment, something flickered in Ethan's expression. Something dangerous.
"We'll see about that," he murmured.
Then, before she could react, his fingers wrapped around her wrist—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind her that resistance was pointless.
He led her out of the restaurant, ignoring Daniel's protests and the curious stares of the other diners.
The moment they stepped outside, she wrenched her hand free.
"You are insane," she seethed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Ethan tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her anger. "You don't belong with him, Isabella."
"Oh, and I suppose I belong with you?" she shot back.
His eyes darkened.
"Yes."
She let out a humorless laugh. "You're delusional."
Ethan took a slow step closer, his body mere inches from hers. "Am I?" His voice dropped, dangerously soft. "Tell me, Isabella… did you feel even an ounce of what you feel when you're around me when you were with him?"
Her breath caught.
She hated him for asking that question. Hated him more for knowing the answer.
Because the truth was—no.
She hadn't felt anything. Not like this.
And that was the problem.
"You don't get to control me," she whispered, her voice shaky.
Ethan's fingers brushed against her cheek, deceptively gentle. "You're mine, Isabella."
Her heart pounded. "I am not yours."
Ethan leaned in, his lips a mere breath away from hers. "Not yet."
She shivered, a mixture of fear and something else entirely twisting inside her.
Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he stepped back, his expression unreadable.
"This was your first warning," he said simply.
"Warning?" she repeated, disbelief flooding her.
He smirked. "Don't test me, sweetheart."
And with that, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Isabella standing there, breathless and shaken.
Because deep down, she knew—
Ethan Lancaster never gave warnings.
And if this was just the beginning, she didn't want to know what would come next