*Isabella's POV*
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that was a stark contrast to the sharp, angry tone he'd used with Rhea. He stepped closer, his body a solid, warm wall in front of me, shielding me from the rest of the party.
"I am," I said, my voice a little too tight, a little too brittle. I was okay, I guess. More than okay, now that she was gone. But my heart was still doing a frantic little tap dance against my ribs.
He let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, a gesture I was starting to realise meant he was either thinking really hard or feeling really fucking stressed. "You threatening her, and being all worked up and possessive of me," he started, his eyes locking onto mine, a dark, intense fire burning in them. "I'm not going to lie. You got me all worked up, too. In a whole different way."
A hot, stupid blush crept up my neck. Before I could come up with some sarcastic retort, his arms were wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against him. The scent of him, all clean skin and cologne and the faint, lingering smell of the ocean, wrapped around me, a dizzying, comforting blanket.
"Relax, Jacob," I said, my voice softer now. I patted his chest, a gesture that felt weirdly and incredibly intimate. "We still have a cake to cut. We can't just disappear from your own birthday party."
"Why not?" he asked, a slow, arrogant smirk spreading across his face. The vulnerable, honest Jacob from a second ago was gone, replaced by the cocky, self-assured playboy I knew so well. "I'm Jacob fucking Lancaster. I do as I please."
And I couldn't help it, a giggle escaped my lips. A sound that was completely out of place in the middle of all the drama, but felt so fucking right. He was an idiot. An arrogant, possessive, beautiful idiot. And he was all mine.
The air was still thick with the lingering electricity of Jacob's arrogant declaration. I was just starting to relax into his arms, to let the warmth of his body seep into my bones and chase away the last of the anger, when a voice, sharp and laced with a different kind of entitlement, cut through the noise.
"What's going on? I just saw Rhea get pushed outside by two seconds," Elly said from behind me,. I turned, and my eyes widened slightly. When the fuck did she get here? I hadn't seen her arrive behind me.
"Is she your stalker?" I asked, my voice flat, a flicker of my own territorial instincts flaring up. I was so fucking tired of new women appearing out of nowhere.
Jacob sighed, a long, weary sound that spoke of a thousand battles I didn't know about. "It's a long story," he said, his voice low and dismissive. "Not for tonight." He squeezed my waist tighter his hands drifting lower with a silent, possessive gesture that said 'you're mine and this is my mess to deal with'.
But Elly wasn't having it. "Get your fucking hands off her ass," she said, her voice losing its sweet facade, turning sharp and brittle.
"Let me borrow her for a drink. You'll have time for that later." Before I could even form a response, a slow, sly smile spread across my face. I looked from Elly's face to Jacob's tight, annoyed one, and I couldn't help it. I laughed. It was a short, sharp, utterly humorless sound.
I leaned up, planting a soft, deliberate kiss on Jacob's cheek, a gesture that was both a promise and a dismissal. "I'll be right back," I whispered, my eyes still on Elly.
Then I turned, linking my arm through Elly's, and let her lead me towards the bar. The night was just getting more and more fucking interesting.
"How are you, Isabella?" Elly's voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and sassy, a glass of champagne held loosely in her hand. I quickly pasted on a smile, taking a sip of my own drink.
"I've been better," I sighed, the words coming out flatter than I intended. I tried to make it sound like a joke, but we both knew it wasn't.
Her gaze narrowed "Did the bitch say something to you?" she asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, but there was a dangerous edge to it.
"It doesn't matter," I said, trying for nonchalance, but it came out flat and tired.
"Oh, it does," she countered, her tone shifting to something sassy. "I can tell when my queen isn't in the building, and I demand her back." The way she said it, with such possessive loyalty, it was so fucking ridiculous it almost made me smile.
I let out a dry, humourless laugh. "Well, it's hard to have confidence when you know you don't belong in a place," I admitted, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
"Girl, what are you talking about?" she said, her voice full of a genuine disbelief. "You're his girlfriend. How in the world could you think you don't belong here, when in all retrospect, you belong more than anyone."
"It's not like that," I mumbled, looking away from her intense gaze, towards the crowd of beautiful, important people. "We're just... you know, having fun." The words sounded weak, even to my own ears. A pathetic defence I'd used a thousand times before.
A slow, knowing, utterly terrifying smirk spread across Elly's face. "If you think you're just having fun," she said, her voice dropping to a low, triumphant purr, "you're gonna have a problem soon."
My head snapped back to look at her.
"He just told the press you're dating," she said.
And just like that, the world stopped. The glass slipped from my numb fingers. I didn't even hear it shatter, all I could hear was the roaring in my own ears. He told the fucking press.
My blood was fucking boiling. I scanned the crowd, my eyes searching for that one stupid, handsome face that was currently the source of all my problems. I finally spotted him, laughing with some prick in a ridiculously expensive suit, and I saw red. I marched right over, my heels sinking into the soft sand, and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from his little group.
"What dud you do?" I snapped, my voice low.
He looked down at me, his smile vanishing "Sweetheart, sorry," he started, his brow furrowed. "I didn't ask you first. But they caught our moment on camera. And I thought it's better they know the truth than to start making suspicions and speculate about us."
"They caught what moment?" I asked, my eyes narrowing in suspicion, my heart starting to pound against my ribs for a whole new reason.
He had the good grace to blush, a faint pink creeping up his neck. "Oh, when I kissed you and I couldn't keep my hands off your ass," he sighed, rolling his eyes like it was the most normal thing in the world to say.
I wanted to be mad. I really fucking did. The audacity, the thought of some photographer getting that shot, of it being out there for the world to see... it should have made me sick. But the image he painted, so public and so shamelessly us, sent a weird, thrilling jolt straight through me. I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair.
"I would've asked you, but it just came out," he said, his voice softening as he took a step closer, his body a warm, solid presence in front of me. "But don't worry, we're gonna be fine." He cupped my cheek, his thumb gently stroking my skin, and all the fight just... drained out of me.
He leaned in and claimed my lips in a kiss. For a second, all the anger and the frustration and the weird, fucked-up jealousy melted away, and I just... melted into him. I kissed him back, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart under my palm.
I pulled away after a moment, needing to regain some control before I did something truly stupid, like drag him back to his private jet. "Let's go cut your cake," I said, a sly, triumphant smile playing on my lips. "Then you can take me on a long walk on the beach." I gave him a wink, my anger completely gone, replaced by the familiar, addictive game we always played.