Sweet Flash Marriage with the Restrained Tycoon (Isabelle and Damien) novel Chapter 81

"Aside from your parents and your grandfather, is there anyone else in your immediate family?

"A sister, married. Both she and her husband are also in public service."

She pressed her lips together and drew a slow breath.

"It's not too late to learn now."

Damian patted the slender hand resting on his arm and led her further into the venue.

"You and this particular... admirer seem quite well-matched on paper, so why..."

"Isabelle, my family hasn't fallen to the point where we need to rely on a marriage for connections or capital."

"Oh."

Suddenly, she felt the weight of his world pressing in.

"Aren't you afraid I might be after your looks or your money?"

"Are you?"

He looked at her with a seriousness that held unexpected tenderness.

Isabelle pressed her lips together, unable to form a reply.

He leaned closer, his voice a low murmur near her ear. "If you were after my looks, I wouldn't have exercised such restraint all this time—to the point where certain... matters remain unconsummated. If you were after my money..." He paused, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Let's just say the price would be steep. Money isn't the issue; I'd be more concerned about your stamina."

Isabelle lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing warm.

What kind of restraint was he talking about?

"Damian!"

"Speaking of the persistent admirer," Damian noted calmly.

"Damian?" Isabelle echoed, confused.

"Call me 'Honey'. It has a better ring to it," he teased softly.

Isabelle bit her lip, her emotions in a whirl.

A striking woman in a crimson dress and matching heels came hurrying toward them, her waves bouncing with each step. Her pretty face was alight with eager excitement.

Damian gave her a polite, minimal nod, subtly shifting his stance to create distance.

It was the perfect display of public decorum, a stark contrast to his private boldness.

"Good evening, Daisy," Isabelle offered, her tone polite.

Daisy Clark stopped short. It was rare to see Damian with a woman on his arm.

When she'd last seen him two months prior, he'd been alone, and the female company he kept was famously sparse.

She had never seen this woman before.

"And you are...?"

Her smile didn't reach her eyes, but she maintained her composure.

She felt an instinctive, intangible wariness toward Isabelle, an aura of quiet confidence that seemed to emanate from within.

"Isabelle Foster."

Isabelle glanced at Damian and then deliberately laced her fingers through his.

Daisy understood the gesture, but she wasn't ready to concede.

"You and Damian are..."

He had never imagined the man's background was even more formidable than he'd guessed.

Nicole, too, was taken aback to learn that Damian's influence extended beyond corporate boardrooms into political dynasties.

"Ah, yes. We've met. I remember," Gary managed, his voice noticeably less steady than Damian's.

"Oh? You all know each other?" Daisy asked, her surprise genuine.

More guests began to stream in, and Daisy was pulled away to attend to them.

"Mr. Peterson," Damian said, his head tilting slightly as he regarded Gary.

Mr. Peterson?! That tone, that specific cadence...

"It's you..." Gary released Nicole's hand, his fists clenching at his sides, knuckles cracking audibly.

He remembered that call to Isabelle at the hospital, answered by a man's voice.

It was him. He'd recognize that voice anywhere, even in his grave.

Had Isabelle already been involved with him back then?

"It seems your memory serves you, Mr. Peterson," Damian said, a thread of scorn in his otherwise even tone. He then took Isabelle's hand and led her away toward the main hall.

Gary felt a fury so intense he could have ground his teeth to dust.

"Gary..." Nicole reached for his hand again, cautiously.

Gary shook her off roughly. "Don't touch me."

"What is wrong with you?!" Nicole hissed, keeping her voice low. "Just because you can't measure up to him, you take it out on me? How pathetic! You saw her for two seconds and you're falling apart—did she even look at you?!"

Gary stopped walking. He paused, then turned back to face her, his eyes blazing. "Nicole, our agreement was clear—we could be together, but we don't interfere in each other's private affairs. Have you forgotten? If you're unhappy with the arrangement, by all means, make a scene. Let everyone hear how you were the one who inserted yourself where you didn't belong!"