Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 67

"I'll take that as a compliment. Though, a man worth having doesn't need to be guarded. If he walks away, he was just a problem waiting to happen. Honestly, I should be thanking you for taking out my trash."

Isabelle crossed her arms, every inch the cool, composed professional. She wore a crisp white blouse tucked into a high-waisted leather pencil skirt, with a black wool coat draped over her shoulders. Her gaze swept over the other woman, icy and dismissive.

"And for the record, I'm not expecting a child, and I have no need to 'climb into' anyone's bed..."

"She's right. She didn't have to climb into mine. I was the one who coaxed her, charmed her, and quite shamelessly carried her there myself."

Damian's voice cut through the parking garage air. He stood by the driver's door, his gaze sharp as a honed edge.

Isabelle stiffened for a second, glancing back at him. How could he say something like that so matter-of-factly?

He shut the car door gently and walked toward her, his arm coming to rest naturally around her waist.

"Ms. Gale, you seem unusually invested in the woman I care for."

The woman he cares for? That was stretching it... It was, at most, a complicated arrangement.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that..." Nicole stammered in reply.

It was clear Nicole had started sweating the moment he spoke up. She hadn't forgotten the sting of his slap at the hospital.

It was the first time she'd ever seen a man strike a woman.

While rumors painted Damian as cool, methodical, and shrewd, she never expected he'd resort to a public physical confrontation over Isabelle.

In the end, even the story she'd leaked had been swiftly buried by his influence, proving his power was not to be trifled with.

Just the memory made her nervous. She waved hastily to a companion nearby and hurried off.

Meanwhile, Gary, who had been watching from behind a concrete pillar not far away, witnessed the entire exchange.

He saw how Damian held Isabelle close—and how she didn't pull away.

Moreover, she was wearing the kind of high heels she used to complain about, and she looked more stunning than ever. Her radiant glow was unmistakable; she truly had changed.

A sharp, bitter pang shot through his chest. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists tightly, as if solidifying some inner resolve. Then, he turned silently and headed for the nearby elevator.

With Nicole gone, Isabelle relaxed slightly. She glanced up at Damian. "Did you think I couldn't handle it myself?"

"No. You handled it perfectly," Damian said.

"Well, next time, let me finish handling it."

Isabelle slipped her hand out of his and walked straight toward the supermarket entrance.

Damian caught up with her in a few strides. "What did I do wrong?"

Isabelle didn't feel like explaining. "Nothing's wrong. Just don't do it again."

For a man of his stature to say something like that so boldly—and without a hint of embarrassment—was beyond her.

She didn't want him involved, especially since the whole messy history wasn't something to be proud of. If it ever blew up into a bigger scandal, it wouldn't reflect well on him either.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Isabelle backtracked quickly. "I was just wondering if I should leave the door unlocked. I don't sleep well when I'm alone."

Damian simply smiled, offering no explanation.

*****

Inside the supermarket, Damian pushed the cart while Isabelle walked alongside him.

After gathering basic pantry staples and fresh produce, Isabelle paused in front of the fresh herbs.

"Brussels sprouts?" Damian glanced at her. "Want some?"

"I'm not sure. Thought I might try it."

Isabelle remembered catching the faint, fresh scent of Brussels sprouts on him that morning. It hadn't been as off-putting as she'd always imagined it would be.

Damian gave an almost imperceptible nod, briefly rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Then, he carefully selected a bright, fragrant bunch and placed it in the cart.

Once the essentials were gathered, he steered the cart decisively toward the snack aisles, loading it with chips, yogurt cups, cookies, and various other treats.

"You like snacks too?" Isabelle asked, surprised.

"Stocking up for you," he replied. "But don't overdo it. They're not great if that's all you eat."

He didn't have much of a sweet tooth himself, but he'd noticed the well-stacked snack organizer in their living room.