CHAPTER 2

Unfinished Business

The morning after finding the cryptic note, Isla tried to push the unsettling feeling to the back of her mind. She had work to do, and wasting time obsessing over an anonymous message wasn't going to help her career.

Yet, as she stepped into the firm's glass-paneled conference room, her stomach tightened.

Sitting at the head of the table, effortlessly commanding the room, was Ethan Hayes.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, and Isla felt that same unnerving pull. The one that made her chest tighten, her breath catch—like a force she couldn't escape.

His sharp blue eyes studied her, assessing as if he knew something she didn't. And for a moment, she wondered—had he seen the note? Could he have been the one who left it?

No. It didn't make sense. Ethan wasn't the type to play mind games.

Still, the way his gaze lingered made her shift uncomfortably.

"Ms. Carter." His voice cut through the room, smooth and authoritative. "Join us."

The command in his voice was undeniable. Isla forced herself to breathe as she took a seat, ignoring the racing of her pulse.

This was business. She could handle him.

Couldn't she?

The meeting was intense—mergers, acquisitions, negotiations that involved millions of dollars and reputations at stake. Isla tried to stay focused, taking notes, analyzing every point.

But Ethan's presence was impossible to ignore.

At one point, he leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur. "You seem distracted."

Isla tensed. His tone was calm, unreadable, but there was something beneath it. Something almost curious.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Just focused."

Ethan studied her for a beat too long, as if trying to read past her carefully constructed mask.

Then, his lips curved into something almost amused. "Good."

The way he said it—low, knowing—sent a shiver down her spine.

By the time the meeting ended, Isla was drowning in thoughts of Ethan. The way he spoke to her, the unshakable weight of his gaze—it unsettled her in ways she didn't want to admit. But she pushed it aside as she returned to her office, determined to refocus.

Her inbox was flooded with emails, but one stood out.

A subject line in bold, unfamiliar letters.

Subject: Urgent - We Need to Talk.

Her stomach twisted.

She hesitated before clicking it open.

There was no name, no sender address—just a single message.

If you value your life, you'll come. Tonight. 9 PM.Location: 48 Whitmore Alley.

The unease from this morning resurfaced in full force. Isla's heart pounded as she reread the message.

Who was this? And how did they know where to find her?

A part of her screamed to delete it. To pretend she never saw it.

But another part—one driven by curiosity, by the nagging feeling that something bigger was happening—wouldn't let it go.

With shaking hands, she typed a reply.

Who are you?

No response.

She waited. Five minutes. Ten.

Still nothing.

The silence only made it worse.

Her mind whirled with possibilities. Could this be connected to Ethan? To whatever unspoken warning he seemed to be holding back?

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling.

She should ignore it. Walk away.

But deep down, she knew—she wouldn't.

The streets were quiet as Isla walked towards Whitmore Alley, her nerves a tangled mess of tension and anticipation. The streetlights flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced along the brick walls.

A chill ran down her spine.

What was she doing here?

Every rational part of her screamed that this was reckless, that meeting an unknown sender in a secluded place was practically asking for trouble.

But something about this didn't feel random.

She clutched the strap of her bag tighter as she neared the alley's entrance. It was dark, narrow claustrophobic. The kind of place were danger lurked unseen.

Her pulse quickened.

A single streetlight flickered overhead, barely illuminating the space.

Then—movement. A shift in the darkness.

Isla's breath hitched as she froze.

A silhouette emerged from the shadows, tall, imposing.

Her first instinct was to run, but then—

The figure stepped into the dim light, and her stomach dropped.

Ethan.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—held something unreadable.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice was low, edged with something she couldn't quite place.

She swallowed hard. "And you should?"

Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Isla, do you have any idea what you've just walked into?"

Her fingers clenched into fists. "I was invited."

His jaw tightened. "No. You were baited."

A shiver ran down her spine. "By whom?"

Ethan hesitated for a split second—just enough for doubt to creep in.

She took a step closer. "You know, don't you?"

His silence was answer enough.

Before she could push further, something shifted behind them—a rustling sound in the darkness.

Ethan moved fast. Too fast.

One moment, he was in front of her, and the next, he had her pressed against the brick wall, shielding her with his body.

Isla gasped, feeling the heat of him, the solid wall of muscle keeping her locked in place.

His voice was a whisper against her ear. "Don't move."

The weight of his words sent a tremor through her.

And then—footsteps. Slow, deliberate.

Someone else was here.

A chill spread through her bones.

Ethan's hand tightened around her wrist, a silent warning.

Whoever had lured her here—was watching.

And Ethan knew exactly who they were.

Her pulse thundered. "What are you doing here?"

Ethan didn't answer immediately. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "That's what I should be asking you."

Isla clenched her fists. "I got an email. Someone said—"

"You're playing a dangerous game, Ms. Carter." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it. "You don't belong in places like this."

Her throat dried. "And you do?"

His lips curled into something almost dark. "I know how to survive them."

Something in his eyes—an unspoken warning—made her shiver.

Ethan studied her, as if weighing whether to say something. Then, in a lower voice, "Who sent the email?"

Isla hesitated.

Ethan exhaled, his jaw tightening. "You don't even know, do you?"

His frustration was clear, but there was something else in his gaze. A flicker of something almost... protective.

He ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. "Damn it, Isla."

The sound of her name—his voice saying it—sent an unexpected jolt through her.

She didn't realize how close he had gotten until she felt his warmth.

"This is your final warning," he murmured. "Walk away."

But the way he was looking at her told her something else entirely.

Isla's breath was shallow. "Why do you care?"

Ethan didn't answer immediately. He exhaled sharply, then—

His fingers brushed against her wrist; the touch almost electric. "Because you don't know what you're stepping into."

A war raged in his eyes—one she didn't understand.

For a moment, she thought he might say something else. Something more.

But then, just as quickly, the mask fell back into place.

"This conversation never happened."

And just like that, he was gone.

Back in her apartment, Isla paced restlessly, her thoughts tangled in a mess of confusion and something far more dangerous desire.

She shouldn't be thinking about Ethan like this.

Not after what happened tonight.

Not after the way he had shielded her, his body pressed against hers, his breath warm against her skin.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair.

This was dangerous.

Ethan was dangerous.

And yet, she couldn't shake the way his touch lingered, the way he had looked at her in that alley—as if she was something fragile, something he didn't want to break.

Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts.

A message.

From him.

Ethan: We need to talk. Now.

Isla hesitated for only a second before typing back.

Isla: Why?

Ethan: Because you keep crossing lines you shouldn't.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Seconds later, another message came through.

Ethan: And because I don't know how much longer I can let you.

Her breath caught.

She reread the message, her pulse hammering in her ears.

This was a warning.

And yet, for the first time, she wasn't sure she wanted to obey.