*Isabella's POV*
I stood there for a second, my blood fucking boiling, watching this little scene play out. The envious monster inside me was having a full-blown tantrum. I had to do something. I cleared my throat, the sound sharp and loud in the quiet room, making my presence known.
"Hello, Damien," I said, my voice tight. I was trying so fucking hard to contain the frustration and jealousy that was clawing its way up my throat.
"Isabella," he said, his voice flat as he finally looked at me, acknowledging my presence like I was a fucking interruption.
"I've arrived," I said, glaring at him. I wanted him to see it, to feel the heat of my anger.
"Welcome," he said, the word devoid of any fucking warmth. It was like a slap in the face, and I felt my heart crack just a little bit. "I was in the middle of something with Alex here," he added, gesturing vaguely towards the brunette.
"I can see that," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Wait. Did he say Alex? Alex?
"I'll be on my way, Damien," she said, her voice smooth as fucking silk. She's on a first-name basis with him. Oh my God. Alex. That's why that name is so fucking familiar. Alex, as in... his personal assistant? The one I've spoken to on the phone a dozen times?
She walked past me, offering a cheerful, "Good afternoon, Ms Williams," like she hadn't just been caught flirting with my boyfriend.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Damien rounded on me. "What the hell, Isabella?" he said, his voice low and dangerous.
"Do you want me to spank the attitude out of you?" he asked. I just rolled my eyes. The fucking nerve.
He got up from behind the desk, walking towards me, his movements fluid and predatory. "Tell me it's just an act to get what you want," he said, his eyes boring into mine. "Because sure as hell, you didn't strike me as the jealous girlfriend type."
"What if I am, hmm?" I shot back, my anger finally bubbling over. "I come home, excited to see you, and I find you with Miss Short Skirts here all over you."
"Isabella!" he said, his voice a warning. But I was done. I was so fucking done.
"Look," I sighed, the fight draining out of me, replaced by a weariness. "I'm pretty tired after my flight. I'll go unpack." I turned and walked away, not waiting for a response.
"Isabella!" he shouted after me, his voice echoing down the hallway, but I didn't look back. I just kept walking.
I stomped upstairs to my room, the anger still pumping through my veins like battery acid. I tossed my bag onto the floor, not giving a shit where it landed, and collapsed face down onto the bed, burying my head in the pillows. Well, that went fucking great. So incredibly ladylike. Oh God, just kill me now.
Several minutes later, a soft knock echoed on the door. "Isabella, can I come in?" I heard Damien say through the door.
"Yeah," I shouted back, my voice muffled by the duvet. I heard the door click open and sat up just as he entered the room. He stood there for a moment, just looking at me, his expression unreadable.
"Have you cooled down?" he asked, his voice cautious.
"A little," I said, my own voice coming out nervously. I felt like a fucking child who'd just been caught throwing a tantrum.
"Before you say anything else," he started, holding up a hand. "That was Alex, my PA."
I thought I'd cooled down, I really did. But the second I heard the mention of Alex's name, I sensed a vein in my fucking forehead start to throb. All this time, I'd been picturing some nerdy dude, not a fucking goddess.
"What do you need a PA for?" I spat, the jealousy boiling over again, hot and ugly. "I'm your assistant."
"My work assistant," he replied.
"What more could you need?" I shot back, my voice rising. "Tell me and I'll fucking do it."
"Isabella, you're being irrational," he said, his tone calm, which only pissed me off more.
"And how would you fucking know?" I said, getting to my feet. "How can I be calm and collected when I was looking forward to coming home to my boyfriend and he was occupied with another woman? And have you seen her skirt? Way too fucking short to be professional."
Damien chewed on his lower lip, and I could see he was trying his best to fight back a smile. The bastard. And that's when it hit me. I had similar short skirts. I wore them to work all the time. Fucking awkward. I felt like a complete idiot.
The fight just drained out of me, leaving me feeling stupid. He was still looking at me, that infuriatingly knowing look on his face, like he could see right through all my bullshit. He took a step closer, closing the distance between us until he was right in my personal space. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"Come and kiss me," he breathed.
"What?" I asked, caught completely off guard. My brain short-circuited. One minute we were fighting, and the next... this?
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. "I said, kiss me," he repeated, his voice a low, confident rumble. He raised an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his eyes. "You dare disobey me?" he asked, his smirk deepening.
Fuck. My heart hammered against my ribs. I hesitated for a second, my mind a war of conflicting emotions. But the sight of him, the sheer magnetic pull he had over me, was too much. I found myself walking towards him, my movements slow, almost reluctant, until I was standing flush against him. I claimed his lips with mine, the kiss starting soft, almost hesitant, before deepening into something more desperate, more needy.
"No, never," I murmured against his mouth as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight. God, how I'd missed this. The feeling of his strong arms around me, the solid warmth of his body against mine. Damien just had this fucking power to unravel me with just a word, a single look.
He pulled back slightly, his lips still hovering near mine. "You're still good at following orders, I see," he mumbled, a smug satisfaction in his tone.
"Are you my good girl?" he asked, his voice dropping to that low, dominant register that made my stomach clench.
A hot blush crept up my neck and flooded my cheeks. "Always, sir," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
A dark, predatory glint flashed in his eyes. "Then you know what to do," he said.