Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 89

The office was abuzz with chatter.

Rumors swirled about Isabelle and Brian, and now whispers were flying about Damian and Diana.

Just as she was preparing to leave work, the reception desk called to inform her a delivery had arrived.

Isabelle grabbed her bag and headed down to the main lobby.

"Ms. Foster, these are for you, ordered by Mr. Cross."

The two receptionists, wearing knowing smiles, handed Isabelle a stunning bouquet of tulips.

Her eyes lit up as she carefully accepted them.

"Thank you!"

Ever since the incident with the wet wipes, the two receptionists had been discreetly bound to secrecy by Damian—with a generous cash bonus as added incentive.

"So jealous!"

She smiled, cradled the flowers, and stepped into the elevator, heading down to the parking garage.

Inside the elevator, she ran into Justin.

He noticed Isabelle's radiant expression, then his gaze fell on the fresh bouquet in her arms.

It suited her perfectly.

"Ms. Foster, you seem to have quite a few admirers."

Isabelle simply nodded with a smile.

"Would you like to join us for a game this weekend?"

"I can't. I already have plans."

She needed to prepare for Ashley's birthday party over the weekend.

"Next time, then."

"Mm."

The elevator doors opened, letting in a wave of chilly air. She instinctively hunched her shoulders.

After a brief farewell, she stepped out, holding the flowers close.

*****

Back at the villa, James had already activated the heating.

She removed her coat and carefully arranged the tulips in a crystal vase Damian had purchased not long ago.

She remembered when she first moved in—his home had been a stark palette of black, white, and gray, utterly devoid of color.

It had felt cold and impersonal.

Since she'd been living there, subtle splashes of color had gradually appeared, slowly breathing life into the space.

After clearing a few stray leaves from the table, she tied on an apron. She planned to make him a proper dinner tonight.

She was a competent cook and prepared his favorites: spicy simmered pork tenderloin slices, oven-braised lemon garlic tilapia, and sautéed shredded cabbage with bacon.

All with a mild, warming heat.

Just as she was about to call him, he stepped out of the private elevator.

The moment the doors opened, the rich, savory aroma greeted him.

He looked toward the kitchen. Silhouetted against the light, even the loose strands of her hair seemed to glow.

"You cooked?" he asked.

"Mhm, come and taste."

She set out the plates and cutlery, removed her apron, and walked over to him.

Damian stood for a moment, his gaze taking in the dishes on the table before returning to her.

He remembered when he was recuperating overseas—Caroline had been called away on business for a month, leaving Isabelle in charge of his care.

Back then, she could barely boil an egg properly.

Either the yolk was runny, or the white leaked out.

Her culinary skills at the time had been... memorable.

If Caroline hadn't been so swamped that month, he wouldn't have had to survive solely on her cooking.

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