Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 90

"What is it?"

Damian set down his fork and retrieved two delicate, velvet-lined boxes from his suit jacket.

"See if you like the color."

Isabelle took them, immediately recognizing the discreet logo. These were custom manicure sets from an exclusive, appointment-only designer whose work was notoriously difficult to procure.

"Where did you find these?"

"My sister sourced them for me."

In truth, he had called in a significant favor.

"How did you know they weren't my real nails?" Isabelle asked, a playful smile on her lips.

"One of your nail tips ended up on my bedsheet," he replied matter-of-factly.

She had lost two that last time and couldn't find them. She'd assumed they'd fallen off during the trip to the police station—she never imagined one had landed in his bed.

That particular day hadn't even been particularly intense... How had it come loose?

She lowered her head slightly, focusing on her meal.

So embarrassing.

Noticing her flustered expression, Damian's lips curved into a faint smile, and he smoothly changed the subject. "The company finalized the contract with Muddlehead today."

"Oh, that's wonderful news."

"Muddlehead's work has always been channeled through Diana. Were you aware of that as well?"

"Diana mentioned it in passing."

A subtle, pleased look crossed Isabelle's face.

"Have you ever met Muddlehead?"

"Once. She's quite striking. Almost as beautiful as I am."

Damian wanted to inquire further, but he reasoned that if they'd only met briefly, she might not have much to share.

Isabelle sensed his curiosity and quickly added, "Muddlehead values her privacy intensely and avoids social scenes, so direct contact is rare."

"Then Diana is truly remarkable. Please convey my thanks to her."

"I will."

Isabelle breathed an inward sigh of relief. Any more probing, and she might have slipped up.

She had been operating the Muddlehead persona abroad for over two years, but she was still young.

Premature exposure could invite skepticism and backlash within the industry.

For now, she needed to solidify her reputation through more high-profile collaborations and private commissions before considering a public reveal.

Her domestic profile was still growing; she needed more time.

Damian, ever perceptive, caught a flicker of something unspoken in her expression.

He wasn't certain, but he sensed a potential connection between the elusive Muddlehead and the woman before him—his wife.

But since she hadn't chosen to disclose it, he wouldn't press.

The contract was signed; there would be time to uncover the truth later.

*****

Later, he leaned on one elbow beside her.

A bead of sweat traced from his jawline down to her neck, which already glistened with a fine sheen.

He was drenched, his skin damp and radiating heat.

Earlier in the shower, she had gotten a clearer look at his leg.

There was a scar about the size of a large coin—it didn't appear to be from a gunshot, and she saw no other major wounds.

After three years, it must have healed completely.

"I might be out very late tomorrow. Don't wait up for me," he said.

"Alright."

Isabelle quietly sighed in relief. Finally, a chance to rest.

If this continued, even restorative tonics wouldn't be enough to keep up.

Damian glanced up, catching the faint hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. He couldn't help but smirk. "You seem pleased by that?"

"What? No, it's not that..."

All her little thoughts were transparent to him.

"Just catching up with some old comrades from my service days. Would you like to join?"

"No, you all go ahead. I'd just be in the way."

A group of men reuniting—aside from eating and drinking, the atmosphere might turn rowdy. Her presence would likely dampen the mood.

As a CEO, he probably navigated these kinds of social settings often. If she tagged along, it might seem like she was keeping him on too tight a leash.

Better not to be overly restrictive.

"Alright." He nodded, not insisting.

In truth, he wished Isabelle would accompany him to meet his friends more often.

With the holidays approaching, Regina had mentioned that Cross Manor had been receiving a steady stream of well-wishers.