Alex had returned from his week-long business trip earlier than expected. After days of negotiations and meetings, all he wanted was to return home to Isabella. His mind had been occupied with thoughts of her—of their baby, of their life together. But when he arrived at his family's mansion, eager to surprise her, he found the house quiet and empty. Confused, he asked one of the maids where Isabella was.
"She's at the office, sir," the maid answered, clearly hesitant, knowing Alex had expected Isabella to stay home.
Alex felt a flash of irritation. She was supposed to be resting, taking care of herself and their unborn child. What was she doing at the office? Without another word, he grabbed his keys and drove straight to the office. His mind was racing, and the frustration grew as he thought of her working when she should be resting. She'd promised to take care of herself, but here she was, pushing herself.
When he arrived at the office, his usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be found. As he walked through the familiar hallways, his anger simmered beneath the surface. He entered his office without greeting anyone and sat down behind his desk, running a hand through his hair.
A few minutes later, he saw Isabella through the glass doors of his office. She was working diligently at her desk, focused on whatever task was in front of her. Her brow furrowed slightly as she concentrated, and for a moment, Alex's anger wavered as he watched her. She looked beautiful, but the sight of her sitting there when she should be resting reignited his frustration.
He stood abruptly and strode to her desk, his expression stern. "Isabella," he said, his voice low but commanding.
She looked up, surprised to see him, her eyes lighting up for a brief moment before she registered his tone. "Alex? You're back."
"Come to my office. Now."
Isabella frowned slightly but nodded, standing and following him into his office. As soon as the door closed behind her, Alex turned, his frustration evident. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice harsher than he intended. "You're supposed to be resting at home, not working."
Isabella crossed her arms defensively, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I didn't want to sit around at home doing nothing, Alex. I'm not an invalid. I can still work, and I want to feel useful."
Alex's jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair again, pacing the room. "You're pregnant, Isabella. You need to take care of yourself and our baby. You promised me you would rest."
"I am taking care of myself," she replied, her voice steady. "But I don't want to sit at home all day doing nothing. It makes me feel restless. I'm pregnant, not incapable. I can still do my job."
Alex stopped pacing and turned to face her, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I know you're strong, Isabella. But I worry. I want to make sure you're safe, that the baby is safe. Can't you understand that?"
She sighed, stepping closer to him. "I do understand, Alex. But sitting at home all day makes me feel… useless. I want to keep working, even if it's just for a few hours a day. I need something to keep my mind active."
Alex stared at her for a moment, torn between his desire to protect her and his understanding of her need for independence. Finally, he let out a long breath. "Fine. But if you're going to work, I want you in my office where I can keep an eye on you."
Isabella raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "You want me to sit in your office all day while you work?"
"Yes," Alex said firmly, though his lips twitched into a smile as well. "That way, I'll know you're not overworking yourself."
Isabella chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"I'm serious," Alex replied, his tone softening as he reached out to pull her closer. "I just want to make sure you're okay."
She looked up at him, her heart swelling with affection. "I'm fine, Alex. But I'll stay in your office if it makes you feel better."
"It does," he said, cupping her face in his hands. "You mean everything to me, Isabella. I missed you so much while I was gone."
Before she could respond, Alex leaned down and kissed her, his lips soft but insistent against hers. Isabella melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck as she returned the affection. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, filled with the longing of the days they had been apart.
For a long moment, the world outside disappeared, and it was just the two of them, lost in each other. Alex's kiss was full of passion and need, and Isabella could feel the intensity of his emotions. He had missed her—desperately. And as much as she had missed him, too, she didn't realize how much until now.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Alex rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he held her close. "I can't stand being away from you," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "I hate it."
"I missed you too," Isabella murmured, her fingers tracing the back of his neck. "More than I realized."
He kissed her again, this time more gently, savoring the moment. "Promise me you'll take it easy, even if you're working," he said softly against her lips. "I can't handle the thought of something happening to you or the baby."
"I promise," she whispered, her heart swelling with love for him. "I'll be careful."
Alex smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Good. Now, come sit in my office while I finish some work. You can keep me company."
Isabella laughed softly, shaking her head in amusement. "You're really not going to let me out of your sight, are you?"
"Nope," Alex said, his tone playful but firm. "Not after missing you this much. I want you right here with me."
With a smile, Isabella followed him into his office, taking a seat on the couch as Alex returned to his desk. She watched him work, her heart full as she realized just how much he cared for her. Despite his protective nature, she knew it came from a place of love.
And as she sat there, content in his presence, she knew she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.