Rivals of the heart

6.The High-Stakes Dance: Between Desire and Duty

Williams POV:

She's driving me mad. Bella walks through the office like a ghost of our past, haunting me with her calm, unbothered demeanor. I can't stop thinking about last night—how close we were, how she trembled when I confronted her. But today? Today, she's acting like it meant nothing. Like I mean nothing.

But that's the thing—she does mean something. Everything. And it's tearing me apart that she doesn't see it, or worse, that she does and she's just pretending she doesn't care. The way she carries herself, so graceful and poised, with that maddening air of detachment—it's like she's untouchable, and it only makes me want her more.

As she moves around the office, focused on her tasks, I can't tear my eyes away from her. The way her hair falls around her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the way her lips part slightly when she's deep in thought... it's driving me insane. I want to reach out, to pull her close, to feel her warmth against me. I want to kiss her, to claim those lips that taunt me with every word she speaks, but I can't admit that to myself. It's too dangerous, too raw. Yet the desire is there, gnawing at me, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

I can't take it anymore. I have to confront her, to make her see what she's doing to me. I push away from my desk, my heart pounding as I cross the room, my eyes never leaving her. She's standing by her desk, so calm, so infuriatingly unbothered, and I can't stand it.

"Bella," I say, my voice low and strained. She looks up at me, those big, innocent eyes locking onto mine, and it takes everything in me not to close the distance between us and kiss her right then and there. But I don't. I can't.

Instead, I grab her wrist, my grip firm, and pull her away from the others. She follows me, her body brushing against mine as we move, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity through me. I take her to the corner of the office, where no one can see us, and press her against the wall. We're so close now, our bodies nearly touching, and the tension is unbearable. Her scent fills my senses, making me dizzy, making me want her in ways I'm barely holding back.

"Why are you acting like this?" I demand, my voice rough and ragged. I'm so close to her that I can feel the heat of her body, see the pulse at her throat, and all I can think about is how much I want to taste her skin, to kiss her until she forgets every reason she has to stay away from me.

"Like what?" she asks, her voice soft, almost detached, and it infuriates me. How can she be so calm when I'm on the verge of losing control?

"Like nothing happened yesterday," I hiss, leaning in closer, my breath mingling with hers. I want to kiss her, to press my lips against hers until she understands what she does to me. But I don't. I can't. Instead, I grip the wall beside her head, trapping her between it and my body. "Like you didn't just admit that I've been nothing but rude to you for five years. How can you act so normal?"

Her gaze is steady, unwavering, and it's driving me crazy. "Arjun," she whispers, her voice barely audible, "I don't know what you want from me. For five years, you've treated me like I'm nothing. I've just learned to cope."

Her words cut deep, but it's her calmness, her unflinching composure, that makes me want to break through it. I want to shake her out of that calm, to make her feel the chaos she's stirring in me. I want to grab her, pull her close, and kiss her until she can't think straight, until she's as consumed by this as I am.

But instead, I lean in, so close that my lips almost brush against hers. "Is that what you think? That you're nothing to me?" My voice is rough, desperate, as I reach out to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing her soft skin. I want to do more, to pull her against me, to feel her body melt into mine, but I hold back, barely.

She doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away. Her eyes are locked on mine, and for a moment, I think she might lean into my touch. I can feel her breath against my lips, warm and inviting, and all I want to do is close the gap between us, to kiss her until she's breathless.

But she doesn't. Instead, she pulls away, slipping out of my grasp with a sudden, fluid motion that leaves me reeling.

"I can't, Bella," she says softly, and before I can stop her, before I can even process what she's doing, she turns and walks away.

I watch her go, my chest tight, my body aching with the need to chase after her, to pull her back, to do everything I didn't let myself do. I want to kiss her, to touch her, to make her mine in every way possible. But she's gone, leaving me alone with the suffocating emptiness that her absence brings.

I'm left standing there, my mind racing, my heart pounding, wondering how the hell I let this slip through my fingers again. How did I let her walk away? How do I let her keep doing this to me?

And why can't I stop wanting her?

As soon as Bella fled the office, a wave of urgency crashed over me. My phone buzzed incessantly, the screen flashing with the name of one of our major clients. The call was more than just important; it was critical. I could feel the weight of the conversation pressing down on me, pulling me away from the chaotic mess that was Bella and my frustrations with her.

I reluctantly left the office, my mind still swirling with the encounter. The way she had acted—so indifferent, so calm—was driving me up the wall. Her composure was maddeningly attractive, and I could barely keep my focus on the business call as I replayed our conversation in my head. I needed to sort out this mess with her, but duty called. I had to be professional, even if my thoughts were tangled in frustration and an unspoken desire.

After hours of dealing with the business crisis, I was finally able to get some rest. But sleep didn't come easy. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Bella's face—her calm, composed demeanor, the way her eyes had looked at me with that mixture of confusion and defiance. I was still seething with anger and something else—something far more complicated.

The next day brought a new set of challenges. I was invited to a high-profile party, and as it turned out, all the office members were included. I didn't really have the inclination to attend, but it was an opportunity to network, to push aside the irritation and focus on business. Besides, who knew what unexpected interactions might arise there?

As I prepared for the evening, I couldn't shake the feeling that Bella would be there. Her presence at the party was almost inevitable. The idea of seeing her again, of having another chance to unravel the mystery that was her—well, it was both unsettling and intriguing.

I knew I had to keep my emotions in check. I couldn't afford to let personal issues interfere with my professional demeanor. But deep down, I was hoping that this party would provide some answers—or at least some clarity on what to do next with Bella. I had a feeling the evening would be far from ordinary.