Chapter 2: A Reckless Mistake

The night was supposed to end the moment Isla stepped off the dance floor, but fate had other plans. Her pulse was still erratic from Killian Blackwood’s touch, his cryptic words echoing in her mind. She should have walked away, left the gala without a second glance—but the fire in her veins wouldn’t let her.

Instead, she found herself storming into the dimly lit study at the far end of the Blackwood Estate, away from the prying eyes of high society. The heavy mahogany doors shut behind her with a quiet click, enclosing her in the lion’s den.

Killian stood by the bar, pouring himself a drink, his broad shoulders at ease as if he had anticipated this confrontation. He didn’t turn immediately, but Isla knew he sensed her presence.

“You just walk away after that?” Isla’s voice was sharper than intended, laced with an emotion she refused to name.

Killian finally glanced at her over his shoulder, his dark eyes amused. “Would you have preferred I stayed and entertained your questions in front of an audience?”

She clenched her fists. “You’re playing a game, and I don’t appreciate it.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, sipping his whiskey before setting the glass down. “And what game would that be?”

She took a step closer, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. “You knew exactly who I was before you ever spoke to me. My father—his company—you destroyed everything.”

Killian turned fully now, his expression unreadable. “Your father made poor business choices. I only did what was necessary.”

Rage flared inside her, a bitter taste on her tongue. “Necessary?” she spat. “You ruined lives without a second thought, and now you expect me to stand here and dance with you like none of it mattered?”

He studied her, a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze. “You came to my party, Isla.”

“I didn’t know it was yours,” she shot back. “And if I had, I wouldn’t have stepped foot through the door.”

A slow smirk curved his lips. “Yet here you are. In my study. Seeking me out.”

She hated that he was right. Hated that despite everything, there was an undeniable pull between them, something neither of them could seem to ignore. It infuriated her.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, turning as if to leave.

But Killian moved before she could, stepping into her space with a speed that made her breath hitch. His scent—dark, masculine, intoxicating—wrapped around her, making her dizzy.

“Tell me to let you go,” he murmured, his voice a low challenge.

Isla opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Her body betrayed her, every nerve alight as he reached up, his fingers grazing her jaw, tilting her chin so their eyes locked. The air between them was suffocating, thick with something reckless, something inevitable.

She could walk away. She should.

But instead, she surged forward, crashing her lips against his in a desperate, furious kiss.

Killian responded instantly, his grip tightening as he pulled her flush against him, deepening the kiss with a hunger that stole the breath from her lungs. It was fire and destruction, a war neither of them wanted to lose. Hands roamed, nails dug into fabric, soft gasps filled the space as control unraveled thread by thread.

Somewhere between tangled limbs and whispered curses, Killian lifted her onto the desk, knocking over a glass in the process. The sound barely registered, drowned out by the pounding of her heart.

“This is a mistake,” she managed to whisper as his lips trailed down her neck, setting fire to her skin.

“Then stop me,” he murmured against her pulse.

She didn’t.

And neither did he.

That night, logic burned to ashes, leaving only raw need in its wake. A reckless mistake, tangled in silk sheets and quiet moans, branding Isla and Killian with something neither could take back.

A mistake they’d soon regret.

---

The golden morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, illuminating the chaos of the previous night. Clothes were discarded haphazardly across the floor, a testament to the urgency that had driven them. The lingering scent of whiskey and desire still clung to the air, a stark reminder of what they had done.

Isla stirred first, her body sore from the intensity of their passion. As the haze of sleep lifted, so did the realization of where she was. Her heart pounded as her gaze landed on the man beside her.

Killian Blackwood, the man she loathed, lay next to her, his sculpted chest rising and falling in steady breaths. Even in sleep, he looked powerful, untouchable. The sheets barely covered his lower half, and the sight of his bare skin sent a rush of heat through her that she quickly stamped down.

Panic set in. What had she done?

Her pulse raced as she sat up carefully, trying not to disturb him. Every memory from the night before came rushing back—the heated argument, the way he had looked at her, the way she had surrendered to him completely.

She needed to leave. Now.

Isla swung her legs over the edge of the bed, scanning the room for her dress. It lay in a crumpled heap near the desk, a stark contrast to the elegance it once held. She moved quickly, slipping back into it, her fingers fumbling with the zipper as anxiety clawed at her chest.

Just as she turned toward the door, a deep voice shattered the silence.

“Running away?”

Isla froze. Slowly, she turned to see Killian watching her, his expression unreadable. He propped himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes heavy with something she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

He smirked. “You weren’t saying that last night.”

Her cheeks flamed. “Last night was a mistake.”

Killian studied her, his gaze sharp, assessing. “Is that what you really think?”

She swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter what I think. This—” she gestured between them “—should never have happened.”

Killian sat up fully, the sheets slipping down his torso, revealing more of his chiseled form. “And yet, it did.”

Isla clenched her fists. “I won’t let this happen again.”

Something flickered in his gaze—something dangerous, something challenging. “We’ll see about that.”

Isla didn’t wait for another word. She turned sharply and strode toward the door, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. She had to get out before she did something reckless again.

As she stepped out of the room, one thought consumed her.

She had just made a deal with the devil.

And she wasn’t sure if she’d survive it.