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TRAITORS

BELLA

August

My traitorous heart has just blown my cover and led me astray. It pounded so loudly, there was no way Xander couldn’t hear it in that confined space.

It’s clear now that not only can I not trust Xander with my heart, I can’t trust myself around him.

It’s official. I’m still insanely attracted to him.

What’s worse, that kiss only proved I’m still in love with him.

And now I’m worried he knows it.

Fifteen minutes after I rejoined the party, I still can’t stop thinking about him and our kiss.

His lips on mine felt like coming home, giving me a sense of connection and familiarity I’ve desperately missed.

His scent, his warmth, his muscular body pressed against mine made my skin hum, consuming my senses and corrupting my thoughts.

I worry my bottom lip, twirling the stem of my wineglass between my thumb and index finger. I should’ve left the moment I came out of the bathroom, but I didn’t want to upset Meg, and I didn’t want to create unnecessary tension between her and Marco.

“More wine?”

Startling, I snap my focus to Josh’s face. “No, uh, no, thank you.”

“Is everything okay?” He studies me, his brow pinched in concern.

“I have a headache,” I lie. “I think I’ll go.”

“I’m so sorry.” He pushes his chair back a couple of inches. “Can I give you a ride?”

I smile politely. “Thank you so much, Josh, but that’s okay. I’ll call an Uber.”

“Are you sure? It’s no big deal.”

An intense shiver runs down my spine as I set my glass on the table. I don’t have to look to know Xander is watching me. His gaze is like a physical touch, and it’s everywhere: my skin, my heart, my soul .

I force myself to focus on Josh. “I’m sure. Thank you so much for keeping me company tonight. I had an amazing time.”

He’s kind, handsome, smart. Funny too. We even flirted a little. But that ends now. Actually, it ended when my ex sat down at the table. I don’t want to lead Josh on.

Because of Xander.

Goodness, I couldn’t have imagined thinking that when I showed up tonight. I need space and time to think, so I stand and say goodbye to Meg and Marco.

And as I leave, I studiously ignore the deep blue-green eyes that follow my every step.

It’s three a.m. I’m wide awake, staring at the ceiling, trying so hard to chase away the memories bombarding me. Happy memories, filled with love and affection. Memories involving the guy who spent most of the evening crowding me with his presence, even as he sat several feet away.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, relaxing my muscles.

I need sleep, but my dreams are the worst place to be.

That’s where Xander rules. On more nights than I care to admit, I have woken up feeling as if he were with me—his smell wafting around me, the phantom warmth of his body, of his hands on my skin, his heavy weight pinning me down.

And after tonight’s run-in, I can guarantee he’ll show up in my subconscious.

“I don’t want to be with him,” I whisper.

It won’t do either of us any good.

I still regret not pressing charges against Jake when Xander urged me to.

At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing, for me and for him.

In hindsight, it only hurt us more. And Xander’s lack of belief in me?

His obsession with taking care of me rather than letting me handle things on my own? It scarred me immensely.

If I could go back, I don’t know if I’d make the same choices. But I can’t go back. The only solution is to leave the past behind, and that includes him, no matter how bitter the thought tastes. If I don’t keep my distance, I’ll only end up heartbroken all over again.

So, I cover myself with a blanket, shut my eyes, and pray for a dreamless sleep.

At the buzzing of my cell, I sit up, startled. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. But when my phone buzzes again, my mind clears. I’m in my bedroom at Aunt Millie’s house, and according to my phone, it’s seven a.m.

Once I’ve donned a black sports bra and leggings, I collect my hair into a high ponytail and give myself a quick once-over in the mirror. Thankfully, there’s no trace of my sleepless night on my face.

I blow myself a kiss and head downstairs, putting my AirPods in my ears as I go.

The moment I step onto the porch, I freeze, my heart lurching.

Xander stands in the driveway, leaning against an unfamiliar sports car. He’s dressed in black jeans and a white tee, looking casually handsome as always. I peek at his car again, looking more closely. Where is his Porsche?

Isabella! I mentally shake myself. Why does it matter where his Porsche is?

With a steadying breath, I jog down the stairs, then stride away from the house and him. My plan was to go for a run. Alone .

Though he’s dressed in jeans, he jogs at my side, his breath even, his smile wide, like he’s out for a Sunday stroll.

“Are you running away from me, or are you warming up before your run?”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“Fair enough.” We continue silently for a moment, but as we turn the first corner, he says, “How did you sleep?”

Really ?

“Very well,” I lie.

“Me too. It was my most peaceful sleep in months, all because you kissed me back.”

I swear, his smugness is palpable.

My stupid heart pangs. Quiet, you little traitor. I blow away the rogue hairs brushing my face.

“It was a mistake.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Agree to disagree.”

Stopping abruptly, I put my hands on my hips. He stops two feet ahead of me and turns, still wearing that smile I want to slap off his face.

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He takes one step forward. “Wanted to talk to you. I want to hear all about your life in New York, about your classes.”

Despite my best efforts, the fluttering in my stomach grows stronger. The butterflies are no longer tethered. My heart has officially taken the reins from my brain.

I huff, forcing a scowl. “I told you yesterday, we have nothing to talk about. Besides, you’re messing with my run.”

“I would’ve called, but you blocked my number.” His deep blue eyes sparkle with warmth. “How about grabbing a coffee with me?”

“My answer is still no. You don’t need to know about my life.” I veer to my right and take off running again.

“I actually follow you on Instagram. I know at least a little bit about your life.”

Heart sputtering, I turn and gape at him.

“About school, about your friends, your work. Your favorite places—Central Park, Bethesda Terrace, the Met, and that little bookstore you found in Brooklyn. The coffee shop where you liked to study. Books you read. Movies you watched. Your anime marathons. I’ve seen every post. I’ve spent hours scrolling your feed, wondering how you are and admiring who you’ve become. ”

“I-I never saw you interact,” I stutter. I bite the inside of my cheek and assess him. Could it be him? The person who likes my photos and views my Stories but never comments?

“Is your profile picture a setting sun?”

He shakes his head.

“Did you use Audrey’s account?” I thought I blocked her, but maybe I’m wrong.

“No. My profile picture is a little corgi.” He slips his hands into his pockets.

“And I don’t talk to my sister anymore. I set boundaries while we were still together, but after you left, I finally did what I should’ve done a long time ago.

Not everything is her fault; I take full responsibility for destroying our relationship.

But without her toxicity and manipulation, I don’t think we would’ve ended up here.

So, I cut all ties. I figured she’d take a step back and realize what she’d done, but I was wrong. So, I keep my distance.”

“Oh.” I shuffle my feet, at a loss for words. I didn’t expect to hear any of this. Jess has to know, yet she didn’t tell me.

But why would she? She knew I didn’t want to talk about him, and she honored that.

“Excuse me! Are you Alexander Walker?” The shout startles me back to my senses.

Shit . The last thing I need is to be seen with Xander. So, I turn on my heel and run.

The two men approach, asking for a photo, unwittingly allowing me to escape.

As I jog, question after question cycles through my mind. What is his goal? To apologize to me? To be friends again? Or does he want more? Does he want to try again?

No. I push away thoughts of his motives and focus on my breath.

Once I’ve cued up my Spotify playlist, I pick up my pace and focus on the music, reminding myself it’s pointless to worry about things I can’t control.

Tomorrow will be a new day, filled with a huge pile of work and lots of phone calls. Maybe another person would dread it. Maybe I should. From the look of it, I returned to a total mess, but I’m thankful for the distraction.

And if someone doesn’t jump in and help Ben get the business in order, he’ll lose it all. For the next several months, I’ll focus on helping him get things back on track. I want him to succeed. Everything else can wait until I’m in Santa Clara.

As I’m cooling down, Jess calls.

“I’m bored,” she says. “And I haven’t been on a date in ages.”

“Welcome to the club.” I laugh, tucking stray hairs behind my ears. As I approach Aunt Millie’s house, I zero in on the driveway and instantly let out a relieved sigh.

He’s gone.

“I don’t want to be part of that club. You shouldn’t either,” Jess whines. “We should have men falling at our feet, armed with flowers and promises of everlasting love.”

“Not my type of man, but I get your point,” I chuckle.

“So,” she hedges, “what do you think about going out? We could dance and have a few drinks.”

I shake my head as I climb the porch steps. When I hit the last stair, a splash of pink on the doormat stops me short.

Speaking of flowers.

“Izzy, are you still there?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, my focus fixed on the bouquet of peonies.

“Yeah?”

I bend down and pick up the bouquet, instantly hit by its scent. As I straighten, I notice a little note tucked between the flowers—a hand-drawn heart and the letter X. That’s it.

“I just found peonies at my aunt’s front door.” I prop the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I step inside. “They’re from Xander.”

She whistles. “For real? I’d say he wants you back.”

In the kitchen, I go searching for the vase I brought from New York.

“He showed up at Meg’s party last night, and when I went for a run this morning, he was waiting out front.

A couple of fans stopped him before I made it to the park, and thank God for that.

It gave me time to unwind, but now these stupid flowers— aha .

There it is.” The vase is in the cabinet over the fridge. Aunt Millie probably put it there.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a vase.”

She chuckles. “If he annoys you, why do you need a vase? The bouquet will be a constant reminder of him. Am I wrong?”

“But they’re so beautiful.” I stand on my tiptoes and snatch the vase. “Peonies are my favorite.”

She bursts out laughing. “He knows you. All your favorite things, places, flowers.”

Peonies in hand again, I hide my nose in the petals, inhaling deeply. Such a sweet scent, almost intoxicating, just like the man who left them. My head spins, and I’m once again assaulted by memories of Xander, including the kiss we shared last night.

Just the thought makes my lips tingle.

I pull my head back and exhale. We can’t be together.

Shoulders set, I stomp straight out of the house and only stop when I’m standing in front of the garbage can.

But that’s where I freeze. It’s for the best. Really, it is. But then I inhale, and once again the scent stirs up a memory of a time when we were happy and in love. When our biggest problem was not knowing which movie to watch.

I can’t do this.

I shake my head and walk back into the house, the bouquet pressed tightly to my chest.

“Izzy?” Jess says, her tone full of concern.

“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “Um, I got distracted.” Mind reeling, I head to the kitchen. “How about we meet for dinner, and we can decide from there?”

“How about Wednesday?”

I fill the vase with water, stuff the bouquet into it, and head upstairs without a second glance.

“Could I invite Meg? We can have a girls’ night out.”

“The more the merrier.”

Once we’ve decided on a restaurant, I end the call. As silence surrounds me, my mind spins again. Hands trembling, I toss my phone onto the mattress, then run my fingers through my hair.

I know I should keep my distance, but it’d be a lie if I said that, deep down, I wasn’t happy to see him. And everything he said about following me on Instagram, about his sister… It went straight to my traitorous little heart.

It’s like being torn in two, the painful memories battling the good ones.

Desperate to ease the tension in my body, I take a shower. Filled with restless energy, I scrub my skin. As I brush one nipple, a shot of desire courses through me.

Eyes closed, I slip my hand down my torso, only stopping when I reach my clit. Bracing myself against the shower wall, I rub slow circles, then slip one finger inside. After a few pumps, I add another one.

God, it feels so good.

Waves of heat roll off me, building as I hurtle closer to release. I’m seconds away when I shift, my eyes opening, and catch sight of the little tattoo on my wrist. That’s all it takes for me to stop. As I slide to the floor, the desire coiling in me unfurls and washes down the drain.

I am my own biggest obstacle.

I need to call Dr. Khan… I need perspective.