Chapter 64

Isabella Sinclair spent the entire night tossing in bed, her mind refusing to quiet down. Each time she shut her eyes, Alexander Kingsley's striking features invaded her thoughts, making her pulse quicken and her skin burn. The memory of his strong hands gripping her waist sent an electric current through her body, leaving her restless and agitated.

She bolted upright, sheets clinging to her damp skin, her breathing uneven. They were divorced, yet Alexander was the only man who could still make her feel this way.

After barely two hours of sleep, she dragged herself out of bed and paddled a kayak across the lake at dawn, hoping the rhythmic motion would steady her nerves.

Breakfast was prepared by Olivia Bennett.

Isabella stabbed her toast with unnecessary force, chewing mechanically as she downed her coffee in one gulp.

"Troubled about Victoria Sterling, Ms. Sinclair?" Olivia dabbed at Isabella's fingers with a napkin, ever the picture of grace.

"I hate losing," Isabella muttered, eyes shut tight. What she really despised was being under Alexander's control—even now.

"And the situation with Gabrielle Moreau?"

"Give me time. We need to act before the media frenzy dies down." Her phone buzzed on the table. William Sinclair.

"Father?" Her grip tightened around the device.

"Relax, I'm not calling with bad news." His chuckle was warm. "Your aunts want to throw you a celebration."

"A celebration?" She frowned.

"You're trending everywhere as 'New York's Guardian Angel.' They're bursting with pride."

Isabella cringed at the nickname.

"They miss you. Come home for dinner."

She exhaled sharply. "I'm trying to lay low. This attention is dangerous."

"Ungrateful child." His tone softened. "Just one meal. It's been too long."

"Fine. Once I've handled my affairs." She relented.

His voice turned serious. "Is that troublemaker Nathaniel Hawthorne back in town?"

"Yes."

"Tch. If he weren't your brother's friend..." William's anger crackled through the line. "Bring him with you. If he refuses, consider himself disowned."

The call ended, leaving Isabella massaging her temples. She snatched a chocolate bar from Olivia's pocket and took an aggressive bite.

"Problem, Miss Sinclair?"

"Father insists I bring Nathaniel to dinner."

Olivia winced. Nathaniel's explosive temper was legendary.

"Those two in a room together is a disaster waiting to happen."

Isabella savored the chocolate, the sugar calming her nerves. "Nathaniel listens to me about everything except this. I'll need to be creative."

At the hotel, her Bugatti was met by a swarm of paparazzi. Isabella's jaw tightened as Olivia called security.

"They're here for the 'Guardian Angel.' Somehow they traced her to our staff."

Isabella's eyes darkened. "Don't they have real news to cover?"

She sighed. "This hype will fade. My brother's already suppressing the stories. Use the service entrance."

Scrolling through the hotel's Twitter feed in the elevator, she noted the flood of positive engagement from the viral incident.

"K Group's staff training is impeccable! Definitely booking here next time!"

"That woman was stunning—any clearer photos?"

"K Group stands by their people, unlike Vanderbilt Industries. When will they address their bullying scandal?"

A smirk tugged at her lips. The free publicity was undeniable, but the unresolved Victoria situation still gnawed at her.

Suddenly, the hairs on her neck stood up. Someone was too close. A hand landed on her shoulder.

Reacting instantly, she flung her coffee in the intruder's face.

"Jesus Christ—!"

In one fluid motion, she grabbed his arm and flipped him onto the marble floor with a sickening thud.

"Bloody hell—!"

The muscular man groaned beneath her.

"Dominic?!" She gasped, recognizing Alexander's best friend.

"Christ, Sinclair..." He coughed, wiping coffee from his eyes. "A beautiful woman's touch is like honey on a blade—sweet but deadly."

"Why sneak up on me? That was reflex!" Embarrassed, she knelt to check his injuries, her trained hands moving with clinical precision.

Dominic watched her through half-lidded eyes, thinking, 'Kingsley, you fool. Letting this goddess slip through your fingers.'

"No fractures. You'll live." She patted his leg. "Don't expect an apology."

"I would stand if I could." He winced dramatically. "Everything's numb. Help me up?"

Rolling her eyes, she hauled him upright. When he swayed into her, his heartbeat stuttered. Women usually threw themselves at him—this was new.

"So, Sinclair," he murmured, leaning closer. "How'd our little collision feel?"

"Like I should've checked you for brain damage." She scoffed. "Unless you've got a third eye, you're just another man. And I've known better."

The moment the words left her mouth, she flushed. The image of Alexander's sweat-slicked torso and the way he'd moved against her that single, unforgettable night flashed behind her eyelids.

Dominic's smile turned predatory. He pinned her against the wall, his gaze dropping to her lips. "Better than Kingsley?" His voice deepened. "You've only sampled one flavor, darling. How do you know I'm not an upgrade?"

The tension between them crackled like live wires.