Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 148

Isabelle froze. Damian was surprisingly skilled with the brush. Did Ashley teach him how to do this?

The thought made her heart sink. She reached up to stop his hand.

"I'll do it myself," she said. "You're pulling my hair."

Damian's happy expression instantly turned serious. He looked down at her, confused.

Did I do it wrong?

He didn't say a word, but he didn't let her take the brush either. He just kept styling her hair.

Isabelle didn't resist anymore.

He tied it into a braid, wrapped the end with a hair tie decorated with an orange tulip.

It matched her makeup perfectly.

Paired with her white dress and orange wool coat, she looked ethereal—fragile and delicate.

They walked out of the bedroom in silence, one after the other—Isabelle went first, with Damian following close behind.

At the front door, Damian insisted on putting her shoes on for her.

Isabelle didn't stop him.

She bent down to open the door, but Damian slammed it shut immediately.

He pulled her back and pinned her against the wall in the entryway.

Isabelle gasped in surprise.

"You're mad at me," Damian stated, his eyes demanding the truth.

"No, I'm not," Isabelle lied.

Damian wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her firmly in place. He wasn't going to let her leave until she confessed.

"You wouldn't let me kiss you, you wouldn't let me brush your hair, and you wouldn't let me put your shoes on," he accused. "You are definitely mad."

Isabelle looked into his cold eyes.

How did he know?

"Tell me what I did wrong," Damian pressed, frustration building inside him. "Or did you hear something last night?"

My wife just moved in, and I can't let other people ruin our relationship.

"I really am not mad," she insisted.

"No? Maybe you need to get back in bed to soften that mouth of yours," he growled. "Maybe you'll be honest once I'm on top of you. Hmm?"

He was getting annoyed. He hated that she was shutting him out.

Isabelle's cheeks flushed. She clenched her fists against his chest.

Why does he always have to say such dirty things?

Was I supposed to tell him that I think I'm just Ashley's replacement? That he might like me only because I look like her?

She murmured, "It's really nothing..."

Before she could finish, Damian threw her over his shoulder.

He was pissed. He marched back to the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed.

Isabelle bounced slightly from the impact.

Damian cursed himself silently. I'm so pathetic.

One look from her, and all my anger disappears.

Damian froze. He propped himself up on one elbow and flicked her forehead gently.

It didn't hurt; it was full of affection.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, amused. "You two are nothing alike."

Isabelle looked at him nervously. He looked angry again.

"Ashley was just a silly crush I had when I was a teenager," Damian explained patiently. "That wasn't love. You are my wife now. Even if you looked identical, no one could ever replace you. I don't like her. I only like you."

His words were firm. Then he added, voice turning suggestive, "I love sleeping with you. I love making you blush with dirty talk. I love everything about you. I could never do that with anyone else. That is love."

Damian kissed her lips hard, then pulled back abruptly. "Do you understand now?"

"I understand..." Isabelle said, her face burning.

"Were you thinking about her while I was brushing your hair and tying your shoes?" Damian asked accusingly.

Isabelle didn't answer, feeling guilty.

Damian snorted. He pinched her waist hard, annoyed and exasperated.

She let out a soft moan. Damian knew exactly how sexy that sounded.

He couldn't stay mad at her. "I only ever held hands with her. That's it. If I had more experience, I wouldn't have had to ask Brian for advice on how to treat you."

Isabelle instantly perked up at his words. "I'm sorry."

Damian's heart softened. She must have been really hurt by Ashley's words last night.

It's actually kind of cute that she gets jealous over these little things. It means she really loves me. Otherwise, she wouldn't care so much.