Bound by His Love

The December chill bit through the night air, but inside the grand ballroom, warmth and luxury prevailed. Designer gowns and tailored tuxedos mingled beneath crystal chandeliers while champagne flowed freely among Manhattan's elite.

Tonight's charity gala had drawn the city's most powerful families—old money mixing with new, all pretending their attendance was about philanthropy rather than connections.

Bella Obelon stood alone at the marble bathroom counter, letting warm water flow over her slender fingers. She took her time, head tilted forward so her dark hair cascaded down, revealing the elegant expanse of bare skin where her midnight-blue gown dipped low across her back.

A distinctly masculine hand stroked her exposed spine—warm, slightly calloused, and far too familiar. Bella's gasp was cut short as another hand clamped over her mouth. Forced to arch backward, she caught a glimpse of her own widened eyes in the mirror, a hint of angry tears threatening their edges.

Hot breath tickled her neck before teeth grazed her earlobe, sending an unwanted shiver down her spine.

"Standing me up to date another man?" The accusation ended in a mocking laugh that vibrated against her skin.

Bella immediately recognized the voice. Edward Mellon.

Her damp hand grabbed his impeccable suit jacket, leaving a satisfying dark handprint on the expensive fabric.

She shoved him back, yanked a paper towel to dry her hands, and caught his gaze in the mirror. Her cat-like eyes flicked over him with practiced indifference.

"I'm twenty-six, Edward. My family's been on my case about marriage for years." She blotted her hands with careful precision. "If I don't bring home a serious prospect soon, my mother will personally start vetting candidates."

Edward leaned against the counter with casual entitlement. "What's so appealing about being paraded around like premium merchandise? Letting your family auction you off to the highest bidder?"

Bella lowered her lashes, using the excuse of touching up her lipstick to hide the flash of hurt in her eyes. Her voice carried just enough vulnerability to be dangerous. "If blind dates are so beneath me, why don't you marry me instead?"

Edward moved closer, his thumb and forefinger capturing her chin. Her skin felt like silk beneath his touch, making his eyes darken with familiar hunger.

He'd always been obsessed with Bella's beauty—that perfect face that commanded attention in any room.

"You know my stance," Edward said, his tone maddeningly casual. "Marriage isn't happening. Not now, not ever."

Bella let out a short, bitter laugh. "If you won't marry me, why should you care who I date?"

Edward's jaw tightened. "Should I move my things out of your place then? Make room for the next guy?"

Pain lanced through her chest, but Bella refused to let it show. She busied herself applying powder, using makeup as armor. "Move them yourself. I'm not your maid."

With her composure restored, she transformed back into the dazzling socialite everyone expected. She turned toward Edward, her high heels clicking sharply against marble.

She grabbed his silk tie, challenge written in every line of her face.

"Once you leave, don't expect an invitation back."

The chandelier's light caught the dangerous sparkle in her eyes and the perfect curve of her lips.

Edward couldn't resist. He captured her mouth with his own.

This section of the ladies' room was tucked away from the main event, rarely visited. In their private bubble, only the sound of quickened breaths and hungry kisses existed.

Edward's hands roamed possessively, sliding from Bella's slim waist up her bare back, exploring sensitive spots with practiced ease before boldly cupping her breasts through the thin fabric.

Irritation fueled his desire. Three years together had made him addicted to her body. The mere thought of another man touching her made his blood boil.

Why couldn't she just be his without the marriage contract?

Why wasn't what they had enough?

Edward lifted her into a stall, pinning her against the door with demanding kisses. His talented fingers slipped beneath her dress, tracing the silk of her thigh garters.

They knew each other's bodies by heart, and neither wanted to stop, despite the recklessness of their location.

Bella bit her lip to stifle a moan, her senses swimming. The champagne she'd consumed earlier had loosened her inhibitions—otherwise, she'd never allow such liberties in a public place.

"Ms. Obelon? Are you in here?" A voice suddenly called from outside—Dallas Evans was searching for her.

Reality crashed into Bella's champagne haze. "It's Dallas," she whispered urgently. "Stop—he's looking for me."

Edward didn't comply. Instead, his attentions grew more aggressive, his voice rough with unsatisfied desire. "Your blind date? Mr. Stable-Job-and-Sensible-Sedan? You couldn't aim higher?"

Bella turned her head to escape his kiss, pushing against his chest. Her breathing came in short gasps. "He has a promising career, his own condo, and actual relationship goals. Why does that make him beneath me in your eyes?"

Edward's expression cooled as he slowly lowered her back to the floor. Looking at her flushed face—still breathtaking despite her dishevelment—he asked in a dangerously soft voice, "Is marriage really your non-negotiable?"

He genuinely couldn't comprehend what made marriage so essential.

Wasn't what they shared already perfect?

Bella's expression hardened. "Yes. Since you won't marry me, I'll find someone who will."

Edward's lips twisted into a cold smile. "Fine. You really are something."

Dallas was hovering awkwardly outside when Edward emerged. They nearly collided. Dallas was about to call Bella's name again when Edward's arctic glare froze him mid-syllable, filling him with instant apprehension.

Had he offended this stranger somehow?

Everyone attending tonight was either wealthy or influential. The man before him radiated exceptional power despite his slightly rumpled designer suit. His commanding presence made Dallas want to shrink back.

Dallas knew better than to cause a scene. He'd only scored an invitation through tenuous connections and couldn't risk confrontation with the upper crust.

Edward didn't let him off easily. With a withering glance, he warned, "This is a charity event, not a college party. Control your volume."

After his cutting rebuke, Edward departed, leaving a chill in his wake.

...

When Bella emerged, Dallas approached with two crystal flutes. "The host doesn't cut corners. Even the welcome champagne is vintage Dom Pérignon. Try it—it's incredible."

From her vantage point, Bella had a clear view into the ballroom.

She spotted Edward with a stunning young woman by his side, their arms brushing, their body language unmistakably intimate.

As a woman herself, Bella recognized the unmistakable adoration in the other woman's eyes.

She loved Edward, without question.

Bella's fingers tightened around her champagne stem. So that explained his quick agreement to end things—he already had his replacement lined up.

He truly meant what he'd always said.

A clean break. No messy feelings. Nothing preventing either from moving on.

Her heart constricted, but she didn't make a scene. What right did she have? In brutal honesty, she and Edward were glorified friends-with-benefits—a relationship without legitimacy or future.

They'd agreed from the beginning: sex without commitment.

Now she was tasting the bitter consequences, and Bella could blame no one but herself.

Three years together, and she'd been the only one foolish enough to fall in love.

Edward's gaze cut through the crowd, locking onto Bella with detached intensity.

Bella tilted her head back, draining her glass in one defiant swallow.

She had no claim on him. Their breakup required nothing more than a sentence.

Edward's attitude had never wavered. Bella was the one who couldn't accept reality, who kept testing boundaries, hoping for different results. Now she understood clearly.

He simply didn't care.

Bella's alcohol tolerance was limited, and she'd drunk too quickly. Soon, her cheeks bloomed with color, and her emerald eyes took on a dreamy quality.

Dallas couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Bella, are you feeling alright?" He grabbed her arm, attempting to steady her—or perhaps pull her closer—but Bella firmly disengaged herself.

She was tipsy but not incapacitated.

"Sorry about this. I can't handle champagne like I used to." Her smile was polite but distant. "Don't let me ruin your evening—I should go."

Though her words were gentle, her actions were decisive as she pushed past Dallas toward the exit.

The gala had barely begun. Dallas glanced between the ballroom filled with networking opportunities and Bella's retreating figure. After a moment's hesitation, he bit his lip and followed her.

From across the room, Edward watched Bella and Dallas with narrowed eyes. His expression darkened, but he remained rooted in place.

Beside him, Emily Watson asked softly, "Edward? Something wrong?"

Edward's lips twisted as he asked a seemingly random question. "What do you do when a cat throws a tantrum?"

Emily blinked in confusion. "Since when do you have a cat?"

She clearly didn't understand the metaphor, and Edward didn't bother explaining.

He removed Emily's hand from his arm with cool detachment. "I've lost interest in this event. I'm leaving."

With that, he walked away, his retreating figure radiating tightly controlled fury.