Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 44

His lips thinned, a stark line in his face, and his deep-set eyes held hers. "Yes."

Isabelle could feel his breathing turn heavy and ragged. The clean scent of her soap was completely overwhelmed by the raw, masculine smell of him.

"Is your period over already?" His gaze dropped pointedly below her waist, his voice low and gritty, like he was barely holding back.

Isabelle's steady heartbeat instantly stuttered into chaos. She didn't answer. Instead, she slowly slid her whole body under the covers and clutched the pillow like a lifeline.

Just focus on your empire, you bastard. Don't let a woman mess with your head!

But later, whenever she found herself giving in to his muffled groans, she realized that might just be who he was. A man who chased power and conquered her with the same relentless hunger.

Once he got a taste, there was no off switch. The office during work hours, every room in the house after—it was relentless. Isabelle hadn't seen that coming.

Everyone called him the unapproachable, ice-cold tycoon. Ice-cold? Isabelle was practically overwhelmed by his intense passion.

The nights were the worst, especially lying next to someone who looked like that and not being allowed to want.

Damian hadn't slept properly in days.

The next morning, Isabelle put on the coat Diana had sent over the night before. It was custom-made, with a loose fit through the waist, unique detailing on the collar, and sleeves with bold, color-blocked cuffs.

"That's Muddlehead's work."

Damian stood tall and imposing by the door, his gaze sharpening as it landed on her.

Isabelle paused, then let out a shaky laugh. "You're mistaken."

His eyes traveled from the coat to her face, scrutinizing her expression.

She knew he was trying to read her, to see if she was telling the truth. Damian was a human lie detector, always catching the details everyone else missed.

"I'm not. It's the exact piece from her latest video." His look was razor-sharp, leaving no room for argument.

"Diana sent it. I didn't know," Isabelle said, pausing to fiddle with the collar. "I can ask her about it later, see if she's heard anything from Muddlehead."

"Don't push it. She's your friend. I don't want to put her in a tight spot. We'll find another way."

"Okay." A wave of relief washed over her.

Just as they stepped out, they saw Tiana waiting in the hall. "Mr. Cross, Ms. Foster."

"Mm." Damian acknowledged with a nod.

They all went up to the hotel's dining floor for breakfast. It was still early. Damian and Brian were going over some documents, and Tiana had gone to get milk.

Across the table, Harrison glanced at Isabelle, then forked the fried egg from his own plate onto hers.

He can't even eat breakfast without causing trouble. All polished and proper on the outside, but really, he's just a wolf in a suit.

Isabelle almost snorted. Practical? Push your luck a little more, and you'll find out just how "practical" he can be.

The show started at nine. They finished breakfast and arrived at the sign-in area by eight.

The entrance was already packed with celebrities, influencers, and minor stars. Photographers and media crews were swarming, cameras flashing.

They showed their invitations and entered the main venue.

"Mr. Cross, can we go look around on our own?" Isabelle asked, putting on her most earnest face.

Damian glanced at their hopeful expressions and gave a slight nod.

Once dismissed, everyone scattered except Tiana, who stayed by his side.

He looked at Tiana—there was a calmness on her face that was way beyond her age. "You can go too," he told her.

Once she left, he started browsing the nearby installations.

Isabelle wandered around the perimeter for a bit, then ducked into the restroom. On her way out, she slipped into an adjacent corridor instead, following it deeper into the backstage area of the venue.

Her hurried figure disappeared into the back corridors, unaware that it was being tracked by a pair of keen, intense eyes from a distance.

Damian had been following her.

"Excuse me, sir. Please show your work pass." Damian, who had been trailing not far behind Isabelle, was stopped by two security guards posted beside the corridor entrance.