Husband With Benefits
Chapter 415: Miserable

Chapter 415: Miserable

Isabella sat still on the bed, her gaze fixed on the life-size cutout of the man she had been forced to relinquish. "Aren’t you too cruel, Ian? I was willing to serve the notice period, wasn’t I?" she murmured to the silent figure, her voice laced with a blend of accusation and longing. "That way I could have seen you a few more days. Committed more little things about you to my memories. But no. You had to have a clean-cut break. If I’d known you would do something like this, I would have looked at you for a bit longer yesterday before I marched out of the office."

Even now, she could almost see him, the way his glasses would slowly inch down the bridge of his nose as he poured over documents and spreadsheets. It was an unconscious gesture, that momentary lapse in his usual composure when he would push them back up with a single, fluid motion, never once looking away from his work. Or when he slowly stirred the coffee in his cup. It never needed stirring but he still would... and she would be captivated with the movement of his fingers.

Or the way those same fingers moved over her, gently sometimes and making her breath catch at others. The memories brought a ghost of a smile to her lips, despite the ache in her heart. "I never even realized how much I loved those small, unguarded moments, you know? Or that I was taking note of all those things about you. What are you doing now? It is the middle of the day and I am talking to your cardboard cutout, hmm? Are you still working on that horrible drainage project or training your assistant? You must be pleased that you found an assistant so quickly and could tell the HR to tell me not to come anymore, hmm?"

She felt a pang at her own words as she thought of what she had told him... implying that sleeping with him had only been a part of her job as his assistant. Gosh! She could still see the anger in his eyes when she’d said that. If he had lazer vision, she would have been riddled full of holes in that moment. " I wish you come back to me. Foolish of me isn’t it?"

Her talking was broken off when the doorbell chimed. She looked at her own bedroom door, wondering who it could be, before her focus returned to the silent cardboard companion that stood as a testament to her solitude. "Who do you think it could be, Ian?" she murmured, more to herself than the inanimate figure before her. "Perhaps a lost soul at the wrong address? I’m not about to leave this sanctuary, not even to chase away an unwelcome visitor. I desire no company but yours, however one-sided our conversation might be. Pathetic, isn’t it?" The doorbell’s insistence pierced the quiet again, drawing a frown from Isabella as she whispered to the empty room, "Just leave... There’s nothing for you here."

With a gesture born of frustration and a desire to shut out the world, she lay back on the bed and pulled a pillow over her face, seeking refuge in darkness and muffled silence.

Unfortunately( or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) for her, the pilow did its job all too well, enveloping her in a cocoon that the persistent ringing couldn’t penetrate. Thus, she remained blissfully unaware of the sound of her apartment door cautiously being opened, the soft but determined footsteps that followed, or even the gentle push against her own bedroom door.

Ian stood at the threshold, his silhouette framed by the doorway, as he took in the scene before him. His gaze found her first, lying on the bed, her form curled beneath a pillow as if seeking shelter from an invisible storm. Muffled sounds, the faintest hints of words, escaped from beneath her makeshift sanctuary, though he could not understand what she was saying.

His attention then shifted to the cardboard Ian that he had sent her. A mix of amusement and a pang of something deeper flickered across his features as he looked at the many holes in it. Frowing, he tried to read something that had been written on the cutout and walked closer, pushing up his glasses as he did, to lean in and read. A smile of happiness and something more graced his face as he read the words and turned to look at the figure on the bed. So she at least had some awareness.

Taking a deep breath, Ian considered his next move. The room was quiet, save for the soft, indistinct sounds of Isabella’s muffled sobs. Sigh. It was time to attack. The only way he could get Isabella to understand things, it seemed when he launched a surprise attack.

He observed the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders and made a few quick calculations.

In one fluid motion, born of a decisiveness that had served him well in both his personal and professional life, Ian reached down and gently but firmly grasped Isabella by her shoulders. With a practiced ease, he lifted her from the bed, pulling the pillow away with his other hand as he did so. Before she could fully register what was happening or unleash the scream that was building at the back of her throat, he had already seated himself on the bed and positioned her onto his lap, cradling her against his chest.

The suddenness of his movements left Isabella momentarily stunned, her body tensing as her mind raced to catch up with the reality of her situation. The initial impulse to scream, to fight against the unexpected embrace, faded as quickly as it had arisen when she realized who it was that held her. Her breath hitched in her throat, a mix of shock, relief, and a thousand unspoken emotions swirling within her.

Before she could speak more, one of his arms wrapped securely around her waist while his other hand moved to cradle the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair as he brought her lips to his slowly, deliberately.

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