The tension in the Blackwood estate was suffocating, an invisible force pressing against Isla’s chest as she paced the length of her bedroom. Sleep had been impossible, her mind a tangled mess of emotions and memories. Killian’s words from earlier echoed in her head, leaving her restless and on edge. *You think I don’t want you? You think I don’t fight every damn day to keep my hands off you?* Her stomach twisted at the memory, at the raw hunger in his voice, the way his fingers had ghosted against her cheek before he had shut himself off again. It was maddening—the way he ignited something inside her only to douse it in cold indifference moments later. A sudden knock on her door made her freeze. For a brief second, she debated ignoring it. But deep down, she already knew who it was. Taking a deep breath, she strode toward the door and pulled it open. Killian stood there, dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, though his tie was loosened, his top button undone. His eyes,
The heavy silence that stretched between them was deafening. Isla’s breath came in shallow bursts as she locked eyes with Killian, trying to read the emotions swirling beneath the surface of his cold exterior. But Killian Blackwood was an enigma, a man who had mastered the art of hiding his true feelings behind a carefully curated mask. Yet tonight, standing in the dim glow of the Blackwood estate, there was a shift. A crack in his armor. And Isla wasn’t sure if she was ready for what lay beneath. Killian took a slow step forward, his towering presence making the air between them thick with tension. Isla clenched her hands into fists at her sides, willing herself to remain unaffected, but her traitorous body reacted to him in ways she wished it wouldn’t. “You should go inside,” he murmured, his voice carrying an edge of restraint. She lifted her chin defiantly. “Why? So you can keep running from whatever this is?” His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was on the
The city skyline stretched endlessly before Isla as she stood on the balcony of the Blackwood estate, her fingers gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white. The night breeze carried the faint scent of rain, cool against her skin, but nothing could cool the fire raging inside her. Killian had left her raw, exposed, and for the first time in her life, powerless. She had never allowed anyone to have such an effect on her, but here she was—twisting and unraveling beneath his touch, his words, his cold, distant gaze that somehow burned her more than any flame ever could. "You should be careful standing out here alone," a deep voice drawled from behind her. Isla stiffened, her heartbeat quickening as she turned to find Killian leaning against the doorway. He was dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit, the black-on-black combination doing nothing to soften the sharpness of his features. His piercing blue eyes studied her, unreadable yet intense, as if he was analyz
The tension in the Blackwood estate had become suffocating, an invisible war waged behind cold gazes and unspoken words. Isla had always thought that pain came in screams, in shattered glass and torn apologies. But this—this slow, agonizing silence—was worse. Killian had returned to his usual ways, burying himself in work, ignoring her presence except when absolutely necessary. Celeste, ever the viper, had taken full advantage of his emotional distance, draping herself over him like a prized possession.Isla refused to let them see her break. But every time she walked into a room and saw them together, it took everything in her to keep her emotions in check. One evening, she found herself in the grand dining hall, where Killian sat at the head of the table, reviewing documents with his usual impassive expression. Celeste sat beside him, sipping from a glass of wine, her eyes dancing with mischief as she watched Isla take a seat across from them. The tension in the air was so thick it
The night was thick with tension, the air charged with something neither of them dared to name. Isla sat on the edge of the leather couch in the grand Blackwood estate, her hands curled into fists against her thighs. Killian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out into the city skyline, his posture rigid, his jaw clenched. She had come here for answers, but all she had received were half-truths and empty reassurances. And she was tired—so damn tired—of pretending that things between them were anything but a toxic cycle of push and pull.“Are you going to keep ignoring me, Killian?” Her voice was sharp, laced with frustration. “Or are you finally going to tell me the truth?”Killian exhaled slowly, turning just enough to look at her. His stormy gray eyes flickered with something unreadable before he masked it behind his usual indifference. “What truth do you think you’re owed, Isla?”Her blood boiled. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m some naive idiot who doesn’t see what’
The night felt colder than usual, despite the city lights flickering in the distance, casting their golden glow through the towering glass windows of Isla’s apartment. She sat curled up on the edge of her bed, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring at the untouched phone on her nightstand. She had told herself she wouldn’t call him. That she wouldn’t be that girl anymore—the one who waited, the one who hoped.But Killian had a way of unraveling all her carefully built walls with nothing more than silence.A deep sigh escaped her lips as she stood, moving toward the window. The city stretched out before her, bustling and alive, yet she felt completely alone. Her fingers hovered over her phone before she shook her head and grabbed a glass of water instead, trying to drown the thoughts swirling in her mind.Meanwhile, across the city, Killian sat in his dimly lit office, his tie loosened, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. The amber liquid swirled lazily as he stared down at his
****The morning sun filtered through Isla’s curtains, casting a golden hue over her bedroom. But despite the warmth outside, she felt nothing but cold emptiness inside. She had barely slept, tossing and turning through the night, her mind filled with unanswered questions and lingering heartache.With a resigned sigh, she pushed the covers off and sat at the edge of the bed. Her fingers instinctively reached for her phone, but she froze before she could unlock it. Calling Killian again was pointless. She had tried, and he had ignored her.She wouldn’t let him reduce her to a desperate woman clinging to the remnants of a relationship that had never truly existed.A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. “Isla?”It was Elena. The moment Isla opened the door, her best friend stepped inside, scanning her face with concern. “You look awful.”Isla forced a small laugh. “Good morning to you too.”Elena frowned and shut the door behind her. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend everythi
The silence in the penthouse was deafening. Isla stood in the middle of the spacious living room, her hands clenched into fists as she struggled to regulate her breathing. The night had felt long, unbearably so, and exhaustion clung to her bones like an unshakable shadow. Her eyes flickered toward the door, half-expecting Killian to walk through it, but deep down, she knew better.She had spent the entire day drowning in the weight of her emotions. Every time she thought she had built enough walls to protect herself, he managed to shatter them with a single glance, a careless word. Tonight had been no different. Watching him with Celeste at the event had been a brutal reminder of her place in his life—an inconvenience, a mere obligation.A sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She inhaled sharply, unsure whether she even wanted to face whoever was on the other side. But when the knocking persisted, she had no choice but to open it.Killian stood there, his suit slightly di
City lights twinkled in the weight of twilight, as though the horizon itself held bated breath. Killian Blackwood stood against the roof garden of the Carter Foundation, the wind tugging at his open coat, his expression impassive. The city raged beneath him, unaware of the storm brewing in one man's soul.Tonight was not one of pomp and circumstance. There were no fireworks, no red carpet, no over-the-top displays of riches. Tonight was raw, bare, and totally human. It was about truth. About redemption.Killian had sent the invitation to Isla Carter days before, a scribbled note in the bouquet of lilies she still refused to accept. But he knew she'd be there. He had caught it in the quiet between them, in how her eyes clung a beat longer on their last encounter, as if she heard words that he hadn't spoken yet.As she stepped onto the roof, her heels ticking quietly on the wooden deck, Killian turned lazily. The sight of her, in the gentle light of string lights swaying above them, too
The city hummed with its own rhythm, but for Isla Carter, it was all just a bit. softer. Quieter. It had been three days since she'd stood beside Killian Blackwood in the brightly lit community center and said the words she'd never been brave enough to say until that moment. "Maybe I'm still in love with you."Those words had changed everything. And nothing had been rushed. There were no grand statements or fireworks. No immediate talk of labels or planning. Just a slow rebuilding. And for once, Isla didn't feel like she needed to rush to get ahead of her emotions.She was in her bookstore again today. The scent of old paper and cinnamon coffee greeted her, and sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden squares on the wooden floor. Customers browsed idly through the shelves, and her helper, Margo, waved as Isla entered."Morning, boss. You look. glowy," Margo teased.Isla smiled, her cheeks going pink. "It's the weather.""Okay, let's pretend it's not the sexy billionaire
Rain drenched the sidewalk as **Killian Blackwood** stood at the entrance of the charity gala, his stylish suit soaked, but he didn't move. Umbrellas hovered, cameras snapped, but none of it mattered. Not the murmurs of shock on passersby, not the reporters shouting questions. Not even the blistering disappointment in his father's eyes when the older man stepped from a black limousine, lips pursed into a tempestuous line."Mr. Blackwood—" a journalist shouted, shoving a mic in his face. "Is it true you've ended your engagement with Celeste Van Alder?""Yes," Killian said firmly, his voice crisp. "Because I was engaged to the wrong woman."A collective gasp of shock filled the crowd. The cameras clicked more wildly now, catching the unadorned truth in his eyes."What about Isla Carter?" another journalist shouted. "Are you doing this for her?Killian didn't hesitate. "I'm doing this because I finally realized what real love feels like. And I lost it once. I'm not losing it again."Insi
The following days were filled with subdued skepticism for Isla. She was returned to her life—her job, her schedule—but everything was different. It was as though a small shift had occurred, something she couldn't define, but it gave her an irrevocable feeling that something was coming. She wasn't sure what it was, or how to prepare herself for it, but she knew it would change everything.She sat at her desk in the office, staring into her computer screen, the documents before her blurring to a haze. Her mind kept drifting back to Killian's words. His voice lingered in her head, with the sincerity that both comforted her and disturbed her. She wasn't going to decide yet—she knew that. But whenever she thought she had shaken him off, a part of her wanted the connection they had shared.The phone suddenly rang, snapping her out of her reverie. She glanced down at the screen, her racing heart as it read Killian's name.Her fingers lingered over the phone for a moment, a flash of emotions
It was then, that as evening had descended into a peaceful warmth of air across Westbridge Garden's borders, with rustling of leaves only making their staid quiet sound and all their deep and hidden discussion having so accumulated as now it weighed immeasurably between Isla and Killian. Heart-ravished as much for rage as dread and hope; this war on inner conflicting waves: though in heart-sway she wouldn't, or wasn't quite prepared yet, name and look towards one she found.Killian's gaze was on her, his face unreadable, but Isla could feel the storm behind it. He was waiting. Waiting for her to decide, for her to reach some conclusion that would either set them free or bind them together in a way neither of them had ever imagined. But how could she make such a choice when everything she had once believed about love and trust had been shattered so thoroughly?The quiet between them stretched out, the unspoken words hurled through the air, just beyond his grasp."I'm not asking you to
Isla spent the following days wrapped in a haze of contemplation, the silence of her apartment an ever-present reminder of the choice she had to make. She could still hear Killian’s words echoing in her mind: *“I’ll wait for you, for however long it takes.”* The sincerity in his voice, the rawness of his vulnerability, was something she hadn’t anticipated. It made her question everything—everything about the life she had believed she had built without him, everything about the way she had started to see herself.She had always prided herself on her independence, on her ability to stand on her own two feet without needing anyone. But now, alone in the quiet of her vacant apartment, she couldn't help but wonder if she was deceiving herself. Was she strong enough to let go, to eliminate Killian from her heart, or was she still that woman who had given all of herself to him, only to be broken again?The answer, though, was one that was not to be discovered over the course of a few days. H
The following days were a blur to Killian. He could not shake Isla from his mind standing in the doorway, the city's dim light casting shadows on her face. He had left with nothing but the unspoken promise of time, and for the first time in his life, he truly knew the weight of what he had to prove.He had spent years in the game of power moves, manipulation, and planned actions. But this — this was different. This was real. This was unbridled. And this was the first time in his life when he did not have control.The hours passed into days, each longer than the last, as he gave Isla the space she had demanded. But with every passing hour, he grew more agitated, his head consumed by her. He longed to hear her voice, to watch the flicker of flame in her eyes, to experience the way she made him feel he could be something greater than the man he was.It was no longer love. It was redemption. It was about showing her, and proving to himself, that he could be the man that she could see hers
The city streets were quieter than usual as Killian made his way to Isla's apartment. The choice he had made a few hours earlier sat heavy with him, a reminder of what he had chosen to do. His heart pounded in his chest, a rhythm of excitement and fear, as he stood before her door.His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, seeing another text from Isla. His fingers stalled on the screen before he opened it, holding his breath as he read the message.*I'm home. If you want to talk, I'm here. But only if you mean it. Only if you're ready to be real with me.*Killian felt a pang of guilt. He had been hiding for so long behind walls, behind expectations, behind anything other than his own truth. But tonight was different. He had made the decision to leave Celeste, to walk away from a life that had been carefully created for him in favor of the one that he had always wanted. And finally, the hardest thing was left: to demonstrate that he was ready to be the man Isla needed. He
The night dragged on, a suffocating silence closing in around Killian as he watched Isla disappear into the sea of people. Each step she took was a fist to his chest, each movement a testament to how far he had pushed her away. Her words echoed in his mind, a stinging reality: *It's too late*.Killian was not one to lose control. But here, in the middle of the grand ballroom, he knew how much he had lost. Control had been ripped from his hands like sand, and all that was left were the consequences of his actions.The lights around him blurred, the glittering chandelier above elongating into long shadows across the room. He barely noticed the guests returning to their celebrations, their conversations and laughter a muffled hum in his ears. All he could hear was the silence of Isla's absence, her rejection, the weight of all he had left unsaid.He needed to fix this. Needed to make her see that he was changed now, that he wasn't the same man who'd walked away from her. But with every p