Chapter 141: Frustration

The leather seat of the car vibrated gently beneath Isabella as the vehicle cruised smoothly down the highway.

Outside her window, the muffled hum of passing traffic rolled by in steady, rhythmic waves.

They were on their way to the airport. In less than two hours, she would be back in the sky, heading toward Russia, not to Aaron’s estate in Moscow, but south, to a coastal city called Anapa where the private clinic and specialists were waiting for her.

Forty-eight hours had passed since Aaron delivered the news, and her mind hadn’t known a single second of peace.

She sat with her back pressed straight against the dark leather, her slender fingers tightly laced together in her lap.

Her dark hair was pulled back loosely in a short ponytail, a few soft strands framing her pale face. Behind her dark, unseeing green eyes, a violent storm of thoughts raged without stopping.

It was all happening too fast, yet every second felt dragged out.

Since waking up in this second life, her existence had been a strange, chaotic blur. She had managed to escape the nightmare that killed her before.

She was divorced from Kian Carter. She had survived the dark, poisonous trap he had set for her, breaking the tight chains he used to keep her helpless and dependent. She had gained her freedom.

Yet, as she sat in the quiet luxury of Aaron’s car after hearing she might get her sight back, she didn’t feel the sudden burst of golden joy she always imagined freedom would bring.

What she felt was a heavy, quiet relief, deeply tangled with sadness. Freedom hadn’t come cheap.

It had cost her the child she never got to hold, a loss that still left a cold, hollow ache deep in her chest whenever the room got too quiet.

And even though she was no longer Kian’s wife, her father’s vast company and properties were still locked in Kian’s greedy hands. The fight was far from over.

And now... her sight.

The doctors were ready. The surgery was finally happening. For months, she had lived in total, pitch-black darkness, forced to navigate the world through sounds, scents, and touch.

The idea that in a few days she might open her eyes and actually see the light again felt completely surreal. It felt fragile, like a beautiful glass promise that might shatter the second she allowed herself to believe in it.

She owed so much of this to the man sitting right beside her.

Without Aaron Kazarov, she would have been buried in the cold mud months ago. He had pulled her out of the fire, given her a home, provided protection, and brought the best doctors in the world to her door.

She felt a deep, genuine gratitude toward him... a warmth she couldn’t deny even if she tried.

And yet, that gratitude was precisely what made everything so terrifyingly complicated.

Because every time Aaron stepped near her, her heart didn’t just beat with gratitude. It hammered against her ribs like a frightened animal.

Her mind slipped back to the dream from two nights ago. The memory of it hit her like a splash of boiling water.

She could still feel the phantom heat of dream-Aaron’s eyes on her skin, the rough rumble of his voice commanding her, the dark, shameful ache that had coiled tight in her belly until she woke up on the edge of a climax.

She squeezed her knees together under her soft trousers, her face growing hot.

She hated it. She hated how her body reacted to him.

She hated that ever since that dream, her heightened senses picked up every single detail about him, the clean scent and cold rain that clung to his suit, the low, deep resonance of his breathing, the sheer heat radiating from his massive frame just inches away from her shoulder.

And worse than the dream was the quiet, bitter thorn buried deep in her pride: Klara’s casual words from the party.

Isabella bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron. Why did she even care? She had no right to care. She had been the one to strictly enforce the rules of their arrangement.

Their upcoming marriage was purely business, a strategic alliance to crush Kian and protect her future.

She had explicitly told him there would be no romance, no intimacy, no real husband-and-wife expectations between them.

It made complete sense for a powerful, dangerously attractive man like Aaron to seek physical satisfaction elsewhere. He was a grown man. He was free to do whatever he pleased with his body.

So why did the thought of another woman running her fingers through his blonde hair make Isabella’s stomach turn into a tight, jealous knot?

She hated herself for caring. She hated the dream. And most of all, she hated Aaron for sitting there so completely unbothered while her entire world spun out of control.

To protect her fragile pride, she had spent the last two days treating him like a contagious disease.

She kept her answers short, turned her face away whenever he spoke, and actively avoided being alone in a room with him. She was cranky, short-tempered, and utterly insufferable and she knew it.

Beside her, Aaron shifted on the leather seat.

He hadn’t said a word in twenty minutes, but his sharp blue eyes hadn’t left her profile once.

He sat with his long legs spread slightly, one arm resting casually on the door frame, watching the way her small jaw clenched and unclenched.

Aaron wasn’t stupid. He could feel the heavy, electric tension radiating off her in waves. He had noticed her sudden, sharp shift in behavior the moment she woke up two mornings ago.

She was jumping at every small sound, glaring toward his voice whenever he entered a room, and snapping at his simplest questions.

He didn’t know why she was acting like a threatened stray cat, but he knew one thing for certain: his own patience was shredded to microscopic pieces.

Ever since the night of the party, Aaron’s brain had been stuck in a dark, relentless loop.

He couldn’t erase the image of her lying on her back in his guest bedroom, her nightgown pulled up, her pale thighs glistening under the dim light as her fingers worked between her legs.

He could still hear her breathless, ragged moans echoing in his ears. He could still hear her crying out his name right as she climaxed over her own hand.

He had made sure she was cleaned up that night out of a desperate, agonizing thread of respect for her state.

But he had paid for that gentlemanly restraint with his own sanity. Every time he looked at her now, he didn’t see the cold, sharp woman trying to play chess with the world. He saw the helpless, trembling beauty calling his name in the dark.

He had planned to play the slow, patient game with her. He had planned to let her come to him naturally. But watching her sit beside him now, squeezing her legs together and intentionally ignoring his presence, made the predator in his blood grow restless.

The silence in the car was stretched so tight it was about to snap.

Aaron leaned over slightly, invading her personal space until his warm breath brushed against the soft curve of her ear.

"If you squeeze your thighs together any harder, little bird," he murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low, velvet purr, "you’re going to snap your own bones."

Isabella gasped, flinching back against her seat as if she had been burned. A dark, furious red instantly flooded her pale cheeks all the way down to her neck.

"What is wrong with you?!" she snapped, her voice trembling with embarrassment as she turned her face toward him, her unseeing green eyes wide and angry. "Keep your crude thoughts to yourself!"

Aaron chuckled softly, a lazy, dark sound that vibrated deep in his chest. He didn’t pull back. Instead, he rested his chin on his palm, studying the fiery blush on her face with dark satisfaction.

"I’m merely making an observation," he said smoothly, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re preparing for a fistfight. Or perhaps... trying to hold something in?"

"I am not holding anything in!" Isabella hissed, her hands gripping her seatbelt tightly. "I am trying to enjoy the ride in peace, which is entirely impossible when you open your mouth!"

"Is that so?" Aaron tilted his head, his tone dripping with mock innocence. "Because for the last two days, you’ve been acting like I personally set your breakfast on fire. You barely look in my direction. You snap at the servants. You avoid me in the hallways. If I didn’t know any better, Isabella, I’d think you were afraid of me."

"Afraid of you?" Isabella let out a harsh, bitter laugh, turning her head toward the window to hide the heat on her face. "Don’t flatter yourself, Kazarov. You are an annoyance, not a threat."

"Then stop hiding from me," he countered instantly, his voice dropping its playful tone, replaced by something heavier, more demanding.

"Every time I step into a room, you look like you’re looking for the nearest exit. What did I do to earn such icy treatment, hmm? Did I breathe too loudly in your presence?"

Isabella’s throat felt dry. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t possibly say, ’’I’m avoiding you because I had a filthy dream about you watching me touch myself, and now I can’t stop thinking about your hands.’’ She would rather jump out of the moving car.

"I am not hiding from anyone," she said coldly, keeping her chin raised high. "I am simply busy preparing my mind for a major medical procedure. Unlike you, I do not have the luxury of wasting my thoughts on foolish games."

Aaron leaned back slowly, his eyes narrowing as he watched her rigid posture. He didn’t believe a single word coming out of her mouth, but he let the topic drop for now. The car gradually slowed down, turning off the main highway and gliding toward the private airfield where his jet was waiting.