Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 77

The room was soundproofed, but Isabelle was still anxious that the outside world might somehow sense what had just transpired. She sent him a quick message.

"Is it safe to come out now?"

"Yes." Damian's reply was immediate.

She breathed out in relief and opened the door to the private suite.

Isabelle, Brian, and Oliver all let out identical gasps of shock.

Their gazes collided in a tangle of surprise, guilt, and sudden understanding.

Brian broke into an internal cold sweat for himself.

That phone call of mine really couldn't have been timed worse...

An hour ago, Damian had texted him to arrange leave for Isabelle. He'd thought she might be unwell, but it turned out...

Standing frozen in the doorway, Isabelle felt a wave of mortification so intense she wished the floor would swallow her.

"Over here." Damian glanced at her flushed face and nudged a small dessert box sitting on the corner of his desk toward her.

Her legs felt heavy. She walked over slowly, picked up the box without meeting anyone's eyes, and headed straight for the exit without a backward glance.

A soft, low chuckle followed her out.

Oliver, who had been standing nearby awaiting his turn, looked pale with apprehension.

"Brian, wait for Isabelle on the first floor. Make sure the handover is clear," Damian instructed, his tone shifting back to business.

"Understood." Brian placed a file he was holding onto the desk and followed Isabelle toward the elevator bank.

"You and Mr. Cross..." Brian whispered as they walked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"What exactly did you tell him this time?" Isabelle snapped back, her voice a mix of annoyance and lingering embarrassment.

"Didn't you imply he was being too passive? I merely suggested he could afford to be more... direct." Brian's grin showed he understood the situation perfectly.

"I never said that!"

"Are you sure?"

"I..." Isabelle gritted her teeth in frustration.

Direct?

Oh, he'd been direct, alright...

No wonder he'd texted her first thing that morning.

"Ding—"

The elevator arrived.

Isabelle couldn't resist a glance back toward the open door of the CEO's office.

She saw Damian had removed his white shirt and hung it over the back of his chair.

She quickly averted her gaze and stepped into the elevator.

Back in the suite, she'd barely dared to open her eyes. Being so intimate in the middle of the workday felt thrillingly transgressive.

Now, a part of her wanted to steal another look.

Wait— Why is he taking his shirt off?

"Next time you give him advice, could you maybe consider my side? He can be... intense."

"Heh heh..." Brian stifled a laugh. "Can't do that. Mr. Cross' paycheck weighs heavier than our friendship."

"You're wasted in corporate. You should be a professional matchmaker."

"To be honest, I haven't even met all his family yet."

"You haven't met the parents?"

"Not formally, no."

"He's from that kind of wealth. Doesn't that feel like a lot of pressure?"

"It's manageable. I'm not with him for the money." Isabelle tossed the empty dessert container into the recycling bin.

"So what did win you over? Hmm?" Eleanor gave her a knowing, mischievous look.

Isabelle's face flushed crimson instantly.

She knew exactly what Eleanor was hinting at.

The truth was, she hadn't gotten a proper, sober look at... that particular aspect. That night she'd been drunk, her memory was a blurry collage of sensations, and she hadn't been paying attention to details.

And today... well, the opportunity for a visual inspection hadn't exactly presented itself...

It hadn't come into play yet, either.

She offered a faint, non-committal smile and didn't answer.

"Look at you, blushing! Heh heh..." Eleanor picked up her notebook and nudged Isabelle's arm. "Come on, time for the department meeting."

"Right."

This was Ashley's first official meeting with the full design team, scheduled in a conference room on the 29th floor.

Several people had already gone up. The remaining seven or eight were lingering by the elevator banks.

Isabelle pressed the call button and stood at the front of the small group.

Her mind, however, was completely occupied with the vivid, overwhelming memory of what had just happened in the suite.