Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 13

"Thanks." A sigh escaped before Isabelle could stop it.

Him again. He's everywhere. This is getting ridiculous.

"Does it still hurt?" Damian asked.

"Not anymore."

"How was the cold sandwich?"

Isabelle fell silent.

He must have seen that container of sandwiches sitting untouched in her kitchen.

"Where's your boyfriend?" His eyes searched hers, looking for the truth.

"Died yesterday."

The last thing Isabelle wanted was a lecture from him. Her day was already terrible enough without adding more misery to it.

A quiet laugh escaped him, and he nodded. "That's good news, then."

A doctor walked in right then.

"Damian, here's medication for her stomach. Make sure she takes it on schedule, and if everything looks good, she can go home tomorrow. And you need to take better care of her!"

The doctor had to be in her fifties, and the way she spoke to him showed they knew each other well.

"Got it, Aunt Lillian." Damian took the medication from her.

Isabelle's stomach dropped. His aunt? Oh no. This looks really bad.

The two of them talked by the door for several minutes before his aunt finally left.

"Can I leave tonight?" She needed to get out of here.

Damian set the medication on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of her bed. "No."

Her eyes caught on the faint redness still marking his left cheek. Awkwardly, she rubbed her hands together, unable to stop thinking about how she'd slapped him.

He didn't seem embarrassed at all, and even though phone calls kept coming through, he refused to leave the room.

A young woman walked in with takeout bags. "Mr. Cross, your food order is here."

Damian finally moved his ass off the edge of the bed.

The woman set up the table over the bed and arranged the dishes on top.

Isabelle stared at the spread in front of her. Three dishes and a soup—all from the Grand Palace.

"Go ahead, eat." Damian gave her the utensils. "Got it for you. That'll be 250 dollars. Don't forget to pay me back."

Isabelle looked at the utensils, then at his hands. God, even his hands were unfairly perfect. She took them and dug into her first real meal since last night.

Was he seriously demanding money?

Whatever. She could admit it. Starving herself over Gary was pretty damn stupid.

"You got someone who can stay tonight?" Damian asked.

"I'll be fine. Don't need a babysitter."

"Alright. I've got a meeting. There's a secretary outside, Ms. White. Need anything, find her. Or text me."

He checked his watch and headed for the door, then stopped. Turned back around. "So your boyfriend's dead now, right? Does that mean you've thought about my question?"

"You can buy me dinner next time."

Isabelle kept typing, but no reply ever came through.

Damian frowned, and his deep eyes held an unreadable expression.

"Felix is right. If you didn't like her, why'd you go save her? Calling 911 would've been way easier," Lucas Moore said, tapping the wine glass dangling from his fingers.

Damian didn't respond, but his mind drifted to her eyes—clear and beautiful, like a lake that reflected everything with perfect clarity.

*****

The next day, Damian handled her discharge paperwork and drove her home.

"Are you moving?" He stared at the cramped space packed with boxes.

"Yeah."

Her eyes landed on the door that was now completely off its hinges.

"This place seems fine. Why are you moving?"

He wandered around the apartment and spotted his familiar jacket draped over the couch.

"My ex died, and I'm worried he'll come back to haunt me."

Isabelle had no idea how to get him to leave.

He found a spot to sit down and showed no signs of going anywhere.

"Did you break the door?" she asked.